Chapter 56
“Only… to my lord…”
“……”
“My… to…”
“……!”
The moment he opened his eyes, he was alone.
Shattered moonlight through the stained glass scattered like fragments across his face.
The light passing through his window was all red—whether it was the light of dawn, the sun, or the moon.
Ragnar rose to his feet.
The body of the holy knight was firm and beautiful, like a sculpture cast in bronze. Muscles moved beneath the crimson moonlight like a furious beast.
Again.
Ragnar looked down at his e******n, swollen to the point it seemed like it might burst.
In the dream, the part of him that Arzeletta’s hand had touched burned as if seared by fire.
As though the burn might spread from her fingertips, burrowing through his veins to corrupt his soul.
The memory of the woman’s lips lingered vividly. The pink lips that had called his name, whispered to him, were pressed beneath Yoseph’s hand.
Ragnar clenched the sheets.
He was beginning to realize that he was undergoing a trial—one more harrowing than any pain he had ever endured before.
The body of the holy knight was firm and beautiful, like a sculpture cast in bronze. Muscles moved beneath the crimson moonlight like a furious beast.
Again.
Ragnar looked down at his e******n, swollen to the point it seemed like it might burst.
In the dream, the part of him that Arzeletta’s hand had touched burned as if seared by fire.
As though the burn might spread from her fingertips, burrowing through his veins to corrupt his soul.
The memory of the woman’s lips lingered vividly. The pink lips that had called his name, whispered to him, were pressed beneath Yoseph’s hand.
Ragnar clenched the sheets.
He was beginning to realize that he was undergoing a trial—one more harrowing than any pain he had ever endured before.
Under the name of the butler of the lord’s manor, Ricardo, an order was issued to Yoseph.
“Twenty peacocks, twenty swans, twenty rabbits, and ten sheep.”
It was an immense order. Arzeletta, who had never seen so many animals slaughtered for meat on any day other than feast or seasonal festival days, turned to look at Yoseph.
Yoseph was a hunchback, but he could read and even play the lute. As he examined the order paper bearing the butler’s seal, he explained to Arzeletta.
“A noble guest is coming. The Grand Duchess from Lukwell.”
“Lukwell.”
Arzeletta repeated the name as if to familiarize herself with it. It was her first time pronouncing the name of that place, and somehow it felt refined, even floral.
When accepting and learning something new, Arzeletta would pronounce the name slowly and carefully. That was why names were so important to the fairies. Though fairies had no names of their own, they treated the names of things called in the world as precious as the things themselves.
As Arzeletta sweetly spoke the name, imagining a place she had never been, Yoseph added more explanation.
“It’s a very wealthy city. Lord Theogrim will rule it.”
“What?”
“The Grand Duchess is Del Rose’s fiancée.”
Clatter.
A bowl dropped onto the cold stone floor. A chipped porcelain bowl that had held the remains of slaughtered beasts shattered into pieces on the ground.
“Arzeletta, are you okay?”
One of the shards grazed her leg. A thin, long line was drawn across her pale skin, and then small, red beads of blood welled up like little jewels.
Even at that moment, Arzeletta stood dazed, unable to escape the shock. She replayed Yoseph’s words in her mind.
The Grand Duchess of Lukwell. Daughter of the beautiful and pure Impellias, educated in all the books, refined, able to embroider delicate patterns and craft lace…
She was the ideal young lady that girls in the plaza spoke of in admiration and dreamed to be like.
Arzeletta stared blankly at the bowl she had dropped.
The shattered bowl felt like herself.
The one who had calmly held the eyes, heads, claws, and intestines of slaughtered animals in that very bowl, yet just moments ago had been able to dream of a beautiful city name as if singing it.
Without hesitation, Yoseph laid himself flat against the stone floor. He lifted the black hem of Arzeletta’s skirt, still fresh and almost new.
It was something unthinkable for girls from ordinary homes—but this was Yoseph’s kingdom. A world ruled by death, abandoned by God and cursed.
Yoseph licked the wound on Arzeletta’s leg, where red blood had begun to seep out.
Crouched there, he looked like one of the pitiful animals Arzeletta had seen countless times in the slaughterhouse.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.