Chapter 39
Valen turned away.
With a soft click, the door closed, leaving Roseline alone in a room swallowed by silence.
Surely not. No matter how angry he is—
He wouldn’t harm his own flesh and blood, much less the Emperor of the Empire, just because he couldn’t bear a petty fit of jealousy.
But when had surely not ever stopped him?
Never.
“…Damn it.”
Roseline, who had been staring blankly at the floor, shot to her feet. Her legs prickled from kneeling, but she ignored it and yanked the door open.
At the far end of the deserted corridor, Valen was walking away.
“Your Highness!”
He glanced back as he rounded the corner—but that was all. Roseline stomped her foot in frustration, but he brushed past her indifference and kept walking. Dignity be damned; she hitched up her trailing skirts and sprinted after him. Only when she desperately grabbed his arm did his steps finally halt.
“I spoke out of turn! I don’t—I don’t want that! Please, don’t do this. Okay?”
“I never said you could stand.”
“Fine, punish me! But first, just—go back. Please, Your Highness.”
“Hmm. Hard to stomach, remembering how eagerly you clung to him in front of me.”
“Who would rebel over—!”
Roseline snapped her mouth shut and whipped her head around. She’d been so focused on Valen she hadn’t even noticed Merrick’s presence. That loyal aide would never gossip, but treason wasn’t a word to throw around in the palace.
“Ah, and he kissed you here.”
He rubbed slow circles over the back of her hand—the one the Emperor had brushed his lips against. No, not even that. It had been a formality, a gesture without intimacy, lips never truly touching skin.
“Go back.”
“Your Highness—”
“No need to kneel. I rather liked you running after me like this.”
He patted her hand like he was indulging her, then let go with the faintest curl of his lips. The steel-blue eyes looking down at her were glacial.
As Valen withdrew his gaze and ascended the stairs, Merrick—after a sharp glance at Roseline—followed. Watching Valen’s retreating figure climb higher, Roseline clenched her skirts.
A reckless urge surged: Run. Just flee, consequences be damned. But even if she did, he’d never listen.
No choice.
Gathering her hems, Roseline took the stairs two at a time.
Valen never looked back, though he had to hear her frantic steps chasing after him.
“Wait—please, Your Highness!”
Roseline stepped two stairs higher, blocking Valen’s path. Only then did those icy eyes turn fully toward her. Drawing a resolute breath, she grabbed his neck and crashed their lips together.
It was madness. But with this man past reason, no saner method came to mind.
For a reckless leap into his arms, her balance held unnervingly steady. Valen’s hands locked around her slender waist, pulling her flush against him with unsettling ease.
Yet his lips remained sealed. Roseline had to bite, lick, choke her desperation against his mouth until—
A wet, obscene sound echoed down the stairwell. Merrick promptly descended further and turned his back.
“Have you forgotten where we are? Vulgar.”
Valen murmured against her lips, the hypocrisy staggering. But coherent thought dissolved as his tongue invaded—thick and relentless, conquering every ridge, stealing her breath like a tyrant claiming spoils. When Roseline shoved at his shoulders,
“Still.”
The growled command brooked no protest. His grip tightened, and when she yielded, he rewarded her obedience with a patronizing pat to her rear.
The slick friction of their entangled bodies left a trail of sticky sounds shadowing their descent. Merrick, playing blind and deaf, abruptly strode ahead to open a door. A lone hairpin glinted on the floor, abandoned to moonlight.
Valen pinned Roseline against the wall beside the doorway, tilting his head to deepen the angle. Noses mashed, breaths merging—
“Y-Your Highness—ah—put me d-down—”
“Why? Feeling reassured now?”
“C-Can’t… breathe—”
“Liar.” He nipped her swollen lower lip, drawing a gasp, then laughed against her throat before releasing her. Her feet finally touched ground.
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