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Chapter 36
Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and peeling, and her hair brittle from everything she had endured, but thanks to the devoted care of the maids—cleaning her, applying fragrant oils—she was slowly improving.
Still, her complexion remained pale, her pulse erratic. Her body temperature spiked uncontrollably and then plunged to icy cold. With no food in her system, her emaciated frame could not regain strength.
Tears often slipped from her half-closed eyes, and occasionally she murmured incoherent words or groaned.
The doctors could offer little beyond their standard, unhelpful commentary.
They said her body had always been fragile, and all the hardship, trauma, and especially the overuse of various medications had worsened her condition. For now, there was nothing to do but keep her stable, regulate her temperature, administer medicine when possible, and wait.
The duke, already stern by nature, bristled at their words but was calmed only with difficulty; excitement was not helpful near a patient needing rest. No doctor dared to speak of the possibility that she might never awaken—everyone had to focus on keeping her alive.
After much time and the tireless efforts of multiple physicians, her critical condition began to stabilize. Though still unconscious, she looked far more stable than she had just a few days ago—something even Karsien, knowing nothing of medicine, could recognize.
Finally, he allowed himself a small measure of relief, and the doctors could breathe easier.
Sitting beside her bed, Karsien absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair.
“…I thought I had lost you…”
That night, during the banquet, he should have secured her safely first. If he had, she would now be safely in this room, never forced to endure the terror and hardship of fleeing.
How much suffering and fear had a frail body like hers endured? How much hardship must one endure for the body to fall into such a state?
He could not forgive the commoner knight who had fled with her and left her in this condition. To steal what was his, then cause her to collapse, and then run away—how could he forgive such insolence?
After securing her, the knights searched the surrounding area but found nothing. Only after retracing her path did they locate an abandoned cabin—long since empty—leaving no further trace.
“If I ever face that bastard, I will kill him slowly, cruelly…”
Grinding his teeth, Karsien felt his hand tighten around her hair and then relaxed.
Watching her lie fully on the bed he had prepared, in the room he had readied, he felt an immense release of tension.
She was finally here.
After so long, he had brought her home. To his castle. To his room. To his side.
He moved his hand from her hair to gently caress her cheek. Once hot or cold, her cheek now radiated a pleasant warmth through his touch.
The gentle warmth melted his heart.
Burying his face in the nape of her neck, he inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet scent he had longed for so desperately.
My lady. My light, my world.
Open your eyes. Look at me with those clear green eyes. Smile at me.
If you smile for me, I will give you everything. Everything.
If only you would smile for me.
Arlen herself knew she had been unconscious for a long time. Her blurred awareness flickered, drifting up like breaking the surface of water, only to sink back into darkness repeatedly.
During her unconscious state, agonizing nightmares wracked her, squeezing her heart and tearing at her mind. Her chest froze, her breath was stifled, and she felt she was dying, unable to look away, yet forced to witness everything.
Even when she wished to wake from the nightmare, she could not, feeling obligated not to avert her eyes from the final moments she had witnessed.
When her consciousness faintly returned, physical pain greeted her. Her head throbbed, her body shook violently, and she could only sip water offered to her before losing awareness again.
After repeated cycles, she finally opened her eyes.
She had no strength, but the agony was lessened.
The sight that met her gaze, however, was unlike anything she expected. She blinked and stared at the ceiling. The intricate carvings on the luxurious wood looked the work of a master artisan, and thick, glossy canopy drapes hung elegantly in gentle folds.
Soft blankets. A cozy bed.
She slowly turned her head.
The lavish four-post bed, the canopy curtains embroidered with gold and silver thread, gilded wallpaper, finely sculpted furniture, and elegant, luxurious decorations surrounded her.
‘This isn’t… a prison.’
The room was far more opulent than even the bedroom of the Luthern Duke’s family, and Arlen was momentarily stunned.
“Oh my, milady, you’re awake?”
Someone gasped, surprised at her movement, and hurried over. Arlen stared blankly.
“That’s a relief! Here, drink some water first.”
The maid helped Arlen sit upright. Dizzy and weak, she sipped the water offered.
“I’ll let the master know you’re awake. Just a moment.”
“…Master…?”
“He has been so worried and waiting for you. Seeing you awake will make him very happy.”
The maid left. Arlen had no idea who this ‘master’ was, or where she was, and leaned back against the pillow, closing her eyes, still dizzy.
She couldn’t comprehend it. She had expected a dungeon, perhaps a torture chamber, or at best, a brief stay before execution. But this?
The door suddenly banged open. Someone entered in a hurry. Arlen turned her head.
“Karsien…”
Why was he here…?
You, who killed my parents and siblings, hanging them for all to see,
Why… why didn’t you slit my throat and display me alongside them…?
He paused briefly, then strode to the bed.
Her nerves bristled. Goosebumps ran down her body, and she recoiled. With little strength to sit upright, there were few places she could flee—only the corner of the bed.
When she had seen him on the hill, she had only felt fury and resentment at what he did to her family. Now, standing before her, he was pure terror and revulsion.
Seeing her family’s bodies firsthand was nothing like hearing they had been executed.
Her mind went blank, her breath caught.
Fortunately, he stopped moving closer and perched on a chair beside the bed. She exhaled without realizing it.
Karsien said nothing, only watched her intently. Arlen avoided his gaze, struggling for breath.
The stench—the same awful stench from the plaza—lingered in her nostrils.
After a tense silence, he finally spoke.
“I’m glad you woke up safely. I was worried.”
“…I thought I’d be sent to a prison…”
“This is my home. You will stay here from now on.”
A chill ran down her spine. Her head spun, but she understood something was terribly wrong.
“My parents… my family…”
She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. The horrific memories of their bodies, hanging in the plaza, tore at her heart. Could such a scene ever be summarized as a mere ‘execution’?
“…They were executed… so why me?”
“You’ve been granted to me. You are mine now.”
Her face turned pale. Her mind—and her very blood—seemed frozen.
She understood the implication of a victor in war claiming female prisoners. From the moment she opened her eyes and he entered, she might have guessed, but she wanted to deny it.
She had become a trophy, reduced to property in the hands of this monstrous man. All rights over her body now belonged entirely to him.
He extended the hand, once drenched in the blood of her family, and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. Goosebumps erupted over her body.
“Don’t worry. Rest. You will be safe here.”
It was hell.
