The moment a truth that should not yet be unveiled to the world passed the woman’s lips, Walter lunged at Grace like a leaping beast. Concealing nothing of his killing intent, he seized her and growled,
“How dare you scheme against me.”
Grace endured the murderous pressure that even Walter’s longtime subordinates found overwhelming, yet she did not flinch. Instead, she opened her large eyes even wider and continued without hesitation.
“For the past thirteen years, Your Highness has thoroughly hidden yourself. Three years in the care of the Duchess of Richmond, and the remaining ten at the Wall of Death, where no one could find you.”
Grace was certain that Walter, too, was a human being of the same ilk as she. They had held their breath and waited in silence, growing their strength until the world had forgotten their existence and lowered its guard.
“You must reclaim Richmond and return it to the Duchess, and Your Highness must also return to your rightful place.”
Grace extended the crest she held in her hand.
“On the road to the capital with my parents to offer condolences to His Highness the Crown Prince, we encountered a grievously wounded knight. Before he drew his last breath, the words he left with my parents, summarized, were as follows.”
Walter’s gaze upon the crest darkened deeply. Grace whispered, looking into his pitch-black eyes.
“‘The true Crown Prince is under the protection of the Duchess of Richmond.’”
A tremor began at the crown of his head and raced down his spine to the tips of his toes.
“And on that day, my parents also returned as nothing but black ashes, slain by assassins the Empress sent.”
Grace took a step back, then knelt on one knee before Walter. Just as a knight offering his sword to his lord pledged his loyalty, she offered herself wholly to him.
“Take me in your hand and wield me as you please. I shall become the sharpest sword guarding Your Highness’s secret, and serve as the most appetizing bait to hold the hyena pack of Richmond at bay.”
A cold silence descended. The murderous aura that had seemed poised to snap her slender neck at any moment slowed, turning cold and languid like the currents of the deep sea. Walter took the crest Grace offered.
The crest of a roaring black tiger had returned to its master’s hand after more than a decade.
So a single knight had vanished; it seemed he had dragged his wounded body all the way to meet Duke Taylor. The face of the knight who had looked down at the young Walter and smiled flashed through his mind like a mirage.
At the same time, he felt as disoriented as if he had been caught in a landslide. It was not yet time to reveal his identity. Walter looked coldly at the kneeling Grace and agonized. Grace Taylor had not been part of his plan. No, she was a woman he had not even known existed.
When he had finished weighing his thoughts, he asked, his voice chill.
“So, how am I to wield this sword called you?”
At that, Grace raised her head as if she had been waiting, and answered in an unwavering voice.
“Your Highness need only love me where everyone can see.”
Walter burst into an icy laugh.
“If you are going to endure everyone’s ridicule regardless, why not simply ask me to make you my wife?”
At his sharp mockery, Grace rose from her place and replied without faltering.
“No, there is no need for that. Marriage would be a hindrance to me as well. I merely need a pretext to stand at Your Highness’s side.”
All trace of laughter vanished from Walter’s face.
“To return to your position, Your Highness needs Richmond and Taylor. Seize me, the sole remaining bloodline of the late Duke Taylor. I shall reclaim both houses and place them in Your Highness’s hands, then together with Your Highness, I shall destroy our enemies.”
Walter was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low, heavy voice.
“You speak very easily. Everyone knows the current House of Taylor is in the clutches of the Duke and Duchess, and that you were stripped of everything by them and cast out. Moreover, has House Taylor not long lost its former glory?”
“Just as Your Highness has prepared while waiting for the right time, so have I.”
“…….”
“Blades are not only what the eyes can see.”
It was a brazen remark, enough to be considered impudent. There was not a hint of hesitation or faltering. Walter’s gaze slid along the lines of Grace’s face.
A pale, round forehead. Eyebrows tinged with a trace of brown. Eyelashes fanned out like a folding fan, and beneath them, irises like green grapes. A straight nose bridge, a deeply indented philtrum, small lips of light pink.
As she said, he had hidden himself for the past thirteen years, waiting for the right time. He had thoroughly brought those who survived the Wall of Death to his side, and uncovered the secrets of those who clouded the Emperor’s judgment and turned their blades upon him.
Nevertheless, it would be a difficult fight. It was true that he was in a situation where even a single blade was precious, but that did not mean he could snatch up just anything.
House Taylor, sinking under the weight of luxury and gambling debts. A duke’s daughter who, despite her legitimacy, could not become heir or even be recognized as a member of the household.
How much resolve could the woman before him, who looked as though she would break if touched, truly have?
The man’s gaze deepened. Without warning, he reached out and wrapped his hand around Grace’s nape. Under the strong force, her body bent like a wildflower. In that precarious state where she seemed ready to fall if he let go, as she caught her breath in surprise, darkness fell upon her suddenly.
His breath tickled her lips like a heat haze. In the darkness that descended like a curtain, Grace froze completely. His black pupils filled her vision, and a feral scent rose to fill her lungs. The breath of another at the edge of her lips bound her entire body. Having boldly told him to love her, she was now comingly pressed into silence, unable to utter a single word.
I can’t. I have to appear strong and resolute, like a sharp blade.
The moment Grace clenched her fist tightly to regain her senses, Walter parted his wet lips at a distance where their breaths touched.
“I have no intention of merely ‘pretending’ at anything. Doing things half-heartedly always creates gaps.”
Breath laced with a devastatingly low voice flowed between Grace’s teeth.
Walter felt the slender nape in his grip stiffen rigidly, and released Grace. His attitude, courteous in contrast to the rough way he had seized her, seemed to speak for his rational mind. Yet his cold expression betrayed not a scrap of humanity.
“Lovers? Since you so boldly announced that you have a man hidden away in a holy chapel, we will not be wrapped up in such a romantic word. And above all.”
“…….”
“If I deem you useless, I will discard you without mercy. However, is this level of resolve sufficient?”
The low, drawn-out words struck Grace like a blow.
‘Resolve?’
In that instant, her true nature, which had been covered by a shield called elegance and restraint, poked its head out.
What resolve had she forged while watching her crumbling household from its very side? What had she vowed while burying her parents, who returned as ashes? So how could something like this be anything special?
Wildfire-like rage rose in her green-grape eyes. Grace suddenly reached out with both hands, cupped Walter’s face, and pulled him in. Despite how laughably feeble that strength was, the man was dragged forward, utterly helpless.
If Grace had felt darkness from him, Walter felt a forest pressing in. The moment his eyes lifted, something soft and yielding pressed over his lips.
The pink lips were surprisingly warm and soft. The breath that had teased the edge of his lips became as trivial as child’s play. Walter, who had been pressing in on her, absurdly froze solid instead.
While his movements stopped, Grace withdrew like a soft mountain breeze slipping through a forest. Where the wind had passed, only a lukewarm fragrance remained.
“Is Your Highness the one who is prepared?”
Her slender cheeks were dyed with a faint pink, but the resolve gathered in her upturned eyes rivaled that of a warrior on the eve of battle. Walter, who had been staring blankly at that sight, could only let out a hollow laugh.
He had momentarily forgotten because of her fragile outward appearance that looked as though it would bend if grabbed. Like a general burning his ships and charging the enemy, the woman before him had smashed her own dwelling to pieces with her own hands and emerged. Walter acknowledged that she had landed a blow on him, and straightened the posture that had been pulled forward and hunched.
Grace Taylor.
Walter lifted his chin and raised his eyes as if by habit. He held his breath like a predatory beast poised to capture its prey, then slowly spoke.
“Very well. Then I shall hear your plan. How you will seize Richmond under the cover of my love, and how you will reclaim Taylor as well.”
It would not be too late to decide whether she could be properly wielded after hearing her out.
Swallowing the rest of his words, he slowly ran his fingers over his lips, as though the scent had yet to fade.