My Ruin to You - Chapter 113

The question came out of nowhere. It took her a moment to understand what he was even asking. She blinked rapidly, studying Valen’s stiff expression for a few seconds.

“…Are you asking me if you’re a good person, Your Highness?”

Roseline’s voice was flat with disbelief. He didn’t answer, but his silence was confirmation. The absurdity of it made a disbelieving laugh slip out.

“I’m not sure ‘good’ is the right word, given everything that’s happened between us—not that I’m saying you’re bad. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“I do think the fact you’re even asking this shows a distinct lack of self-awareness.”

His brows shot up at the unexpected response before he let out a sharp laugh. Twirling a curl of her hair around his finger, he finally spoke, languid and amused.

“So you don’t hate me?”

The question was almost childish. The same man who’d deduced the missing necklace with terrifying perception now seemed to have plucked the cowardly, unspoken thoughts from her mind—the ones where she weighed his lack of conscience against his overflowing madness.

“I don’t hate you.”

“If that’s all, I might get my feelings hurt, Roseline.”

The implication was clear: he wanted to hear more. Something more meaningful than his assessment of Shuniel. Valen truly had no shame.

When Roseline pretended not to understand, playing dumb, Valen laughed low in his throat and nipped at the tip of her nose. Hard enough to sting, just to spite her.

He scooped her up and carried her toward the bed. Knowing full well he wouldn’t set her down if she asked, Roseline looped her arms around his neck. Valen gave her rear an approving pat before depositing her onto the mattress. The moment her back hit the plush surface, the last of her tension melted away. She was exhausted but hadn’t expected to fall asleep so quickly—yet her eyelids grew heavy as if mocking the thought.

Valen slid his arm beneath her head, then rolled her onto her side to face him instead of the ceiling. It was such a consistent habit that Roseline, mid-yawn, let out a quiet snicker.

“Sleep. No laughing.”

“What time do we leave tomorrow?”

“When Merrick arrives.”

Her drooping eyes flew open at that. She’d only just realized Merrick wasn’t with them. But keeping her heavy lids open was a losing battle. Roseline nodded faintly as she let them fall shut again.

“…Right. He didn’t come with us.”

“Mhm. He had something to fetch.”

“Would be nice if he brought back some of Your Highness’s conscience too.”

Muttered half into the pillow, drowsy and muffled, the words drew an exasperated chuckle from Valen. His hand slipped into the gap of her robe, palm curving possessively over the swell of her b****t.

“Mine’s right here.”

Her eyes flew open.

“I’ll sleep in the other room.”

“If your feet touch the floor, I’m putting it in.”

Roseline peeled his rude hand away with a scowl and tensed as if ready to bolt from the bed—only to immediately lie back down the second he flipped the covers open.

“Goodnight.”

“Is that your spot?”

“It’s a safe distance.”

“I’ll count to three, Roseline.”

She scrambled into his arms from where she’d been lying at the far edge of the bed. The shameless hardness pressing against her stomach was infuriating, but the hand stroking her back was oddly… neutral. Fussing would only backfire. Knowing sleep was her best escape, Roseline shut her eyes.

But wait—this was too peaceful.

It struck her as strange how easily she’d laughed, talked, and now lay beside Valen as if nothing were amiss. Nothing had been resolved, yet she’d let her guard down as though everything were settled.

The thought followed her into sleep—where she paid the price for that peace. In her dream, Roseline sat surrounded by noblewomen, forced to drink tea heavily laced with salt.

◇◇◇