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Chapter 9
Selachia glared at him furiously, gripping her teacup tightly. Even though the tea had gone cold, she hoped it might cool her boiling insides.
“Ugh.”
But before she could even bring it to her lips, the cup slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor with a sharp crash.
She clutched her stinging hand. A blister from her time in the cabin had burst, and yellowish fluid was oozing out.
While she stood there, staring helplessly at her hand, Tenus abruptly stood and took her hand.
Clicking his tongue in disapproval, he led her somewhere.
They arrived at the drawing room.
Tenus sat her in a chair and gestured to the head attendant standing at a distance.
“Where’s Rupert?”
“I received word just moments ago that he’s on his way.”
“Did I not tell you yesterday to have him visit the estate early this morning?”
“Well…”
“Forget it. That tells me enough.”
With a light sigh, Tenus examined her hand. His brow twitched slightly at the sight of the raw, weeping skin.
“Did you bring the ointment?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll have a maid bring it at once. Please wait just a moment.”
As if he had been told what to expect, the attendant bowed politely and left the room.
Rupert was the duchy’s personal physician. Selachia recalled hearing Aldritch call his name in a loud voice before. Still, she asked curtly, pretending not to know.
“Who’s Rupert?”
“The family doctor.”
Just as she nodded like it was new information, a soft knock came at the door.
When Tenus responded, a brown-haired maid entered, bowing so deeply her face was completely hidden. Her dark brown hair and plump build felt oddly familiar.
“H-here is the ointment, Y-Your Grace.”
Hearing the voice, Selachia suddenly remembered. This was Amy—the maid who had personally attended her, since Selachia had brought no servants from her baron’s household.
As Selachia stared directly at her, Amy, who was already trembling, began to shake even more visibly.
“It’s an ointment.”
Tenus finally spoke, interpreting Selachia’s look as one of curiosity.
“They say it’s very effective after just a few days. Make sure to use it regularly for a while.”
“Ointment…?”
“Until it heals completely, don’t do anything with that hand.”
Her hand?
A beat too late, Selachia realized what the ointment was for and glanced down at her hand.
According to the old woman in the cabin, wounds like this would heal on their own without medication. But Tenus clearly had a different view—he had prepared ointment in advance.
A duchess with unattractive hands could reflect poorly on the duke. Especially for someone who wanted to play house with her like she was a doll. Concluding with a cynical thought, Selachia replied calmly.
“Then I’ll apply—”
“Didn’t I say not to use that hand for anything?”
At his cold command, Selachia silently lowered the arm she had extended toward Amy.
Tenus’s icy gaze now turned to Amy. Standing near the door, she flinched hard, like she’d been shoved forward by an invisible force.
She shuffled forward timidly and briefly raised her head. Her dark brown eyes met Selachia’s gaze.
“…”
Amy quickly dropped her head again in shock. But Selachia remained frozen, locked in eye contact.
A roar—like crashing waves—rang in her ears. Even if the ducal manor sat atop seaside cliffs, the windows were tightly shut; there should’ve been no way to hear such a sound.
Despite sitting comfortably on a sofa, her body trembled like a boat caught in a storm. Her heartbeat surged, and she could feel her pulse pounding at her temples.
A churning sea. A body she couldn’t control. And those dark brown eyes she had once met…
Fragments of broken memories scratched sharply through Selachia’s mind. She felt nauseous, as though her insides were twisting, and her head throbbed as if it would split in two.
“Ugh!”
Selachia’s upright posture collapsed forward.
“Selachia!”
Tenus rushed to catch her.
Leaning against his shoulder, Selachia gasped, her breathing ragged. The more she tried to grasp the fading memories like mist, the worse the pain became.
Through her blurred vision, she saw Amy standing stiffly like a statue.
Ah. A flash of realization darted through her fogged mind. She still couldn’t piece together the scattered fragments, but something was beginning to make sense.
“Selachia Seiden. Are you conscious?”
His unusually anxious voice reached her ears.
“Where does it hurt? Say something.”
Selachia steadied her breathing and released the memory she had been struggling to hold onto. The pain eased, and her body felt lighter.
“It was just… a brief spell of dizziness. I’m fine now.”
“Are you seriously—!”
As Tenus began to scold her, she grasped his arm tightly with her trembling hand. Leaning against him, she subtly shook her head—so Amy wouldn’t see.
Tenus didn’t look pleased, but he respected her silent plea and said no more.
Relieved, Selachia raised her voice, just enough for Amy to hear.
“Can we apply the ointment later? I think I slept poorly last night. Right now, I need rest more than I need medicine on my hand.”
In truth, she had slept soundly last night—so soundly she hadn’t even noticed Tenus lying beside her. He knew that well enough, yet didn’t argue.
Instead, he spoke to Amy.
“When Rupert arrives, bring him here immediately.”
“…Pardon? Oh, yes, sir.”
“Leave the ointment and go.”
His tone was unusually gentle—just enough not to alarm Amy.
“Yes… Your Grace.”
Without coming closer, Amy placed the ointment bottle on the armrest of the sofa and quickly exited the room.
Once the door had closed and the sound of her retreating steps faded, Tenus spoke.
“Looks like Amy was conspiring with Aldritch.”
His quick intuition was irritating. Selachia, now somewhat recovered, pulled away from him. A chill swept over her from the cold sweat, but she hid it and replied indifferently.
“How should I know? I don’t remember anything.”
“I doubt Amy has memory loss. If we interrogate her, we’ll uncover the truth.”
“Leave it. I told you to drop it.”
If Amy was questioned, it would draw too much attention to Selachia. And if Aldritch ended up expelled from the family because of her, it would change her standing dramatically.
She was already drawing too much attention for someone who had returned so noisily. If Tenus ever lost interest in her, she needed to vanish without a trace—so attracting more notice was dangerous.
Letting her would-be enemies go free was frustrating, but that kind of frustration was something she had always endured. Selachia knew how to wait and hide—she had done it for years and was exceptionally good at it.
“I’ll say it again. Just drop it. You’re about to inherit your title—you don’t want scandal in the estate either, do you?”
“What does that matter? Even if you burned the entire estate down, it wouldn’t stop my coronation.”
“Of course it wouldn’t.”
Tenus sent her a sharp look at her sarcastic reply. Selachia met his gaze without flinching.
“Don’t like me like this? Then toss me aside.”
“I told you, didn’t I?”
Tenus leaned in closer.
“No matter what, that will never happen. You’re not leaving this place again, Selachia Seiden.”
His handsome face whispered the words gently—but the sickening sweetness didn’t match the darkness in his intent. Her mouth went dry.
Selachia couldn’t look away from those deeply colored eyes. Cold and devoid of warmth, they swirled with chaotic emotions.
That he still wanted her by his side while looking at her like that—Selachia couldn’t comprehend it. He was unlike anyone she had ever met.
“So give up already and accept your duties and rights as a Seiden.”
“I don’t care about the rights or duties of a duchess.”
“You don’t need to care about anything else. Just remember one thing.”
Tenus’s voice was calm and clear, cutting through the tension.
“Don’t die.”
“…What?”
What the hell did that mean?
As Selachia frowned and stared at Tenus—
The door to the drawing room burst open without warning.
“Young master! I’m here!”
“…”
“…”
“Oh dear. This old man barged in at such an important moment. Please, carry on…”
“Shut your mouth and get in here now.”
