Ch#89
“Where’s His Grace?”
Enolius disregarded my query and turned to Whitley instead.
“How much has Her Ladyship been told?”
Whitley shot me a hesitant glance, his expression clouded with uncertainty. He clearly wasn’t certain about the extent of my knowledge regarding the curse.
I interjected swiftly.
“I’m aware of it, to a degree.”
Both Norton and Whitley deferred to Enolius with their gazes, awaiting his lead in the explanation.
Enolius compressed his lips and massaged the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowed in hesitation. He appeared at a loss for how to start.
The pause left my throat parched.
“Is His Grace in the midst of a rampage?”
“…”
“Enol.”
Muttering under his breath about why the burden fell to him, Enolius trapped his lower lip between his teeth before speaking at last.
“His Grace endures recurring mana rampages.”
“I’m aware.”
“His rigorous training typically confines the devastation within these walls. Yet the agony inflicted on him is excruciating—his innards contort, his blood surges in reverse through his veins. It’s akin to being rent asunder from within.”
I strove for composure, but my balled fists quivered uncontrollably.
“I was engaged specifically to alleviate His Grace’s suffering. During these episodes, I deploy restorative spells to mitigate internal damage and dull the torment as much as possible.”
So that was the reason behind Enolius’s employment—Loic’s curse.
— “None but a mage can forge a blade resilient enough to channel His Grace’s mana or embed protective stones along the frontiers. And restorative magic demands the utmost proficiency.”
Perel’s earlier words resurfaced in my mind.
Enolius’s expertise lay in recovery magic.
“And now?”
My voice quavered despite my efforts.
Why were we lingering out here?
If Loic was rampaging, Enolius needed to rush inside and apply his healing spells.
“…My restorative magic has no effect.”
“What?”
“The gap between episodes stretched longer than anticipated. Over five months have passed since the previous one.”
Enolius flicked uncertain glances toward Whitley, as if gauging how far he should go, then pressed on.
“That delay was likely due to Your Ladyship. Because of you…”
He skirted the point, so I supplied it.
“Because I can siphon off His Grace’s mana?”
Whitley’s eyes widened slightly.
“Because I can soothe His Grace’s agony—that’s why you summoned me here, right?”
“Y-You knew about that too?”
Loic had never mentioned my ability to ease his pain. No doubt he sought to spare me the weight of it.
“So we’ve imposed upon Your Ladyship without shame,” Whitley admitted, his tone laced with peculiar relief.
“It could prove perilous,” Enolius cautioned, fixing Whitley with a stern glare that betrayed his disapproval of the scheme. “I’ve never attempted physical contact with His Grace amid a rampage myself.”
“But…” Whitley lifted his gaze, his eyes glistening red. “His Grace must be in excruciating torment.”
The elderly butler’s lips quivered.
It appeared Norton had escorted me here, while Whitley clung to this desperate gambit and Enolius fretted over potential repercussions to me, leaving them at odds.
Norton lingered silently at our side, too distraught to intercede.
From their demeanor, Loic had been enduring this anguish for some time.
“Unlock the door,” I commanded Enolius, stepping forward to bar his path. “I’ll enter.”
“You can’t make such a choice lightly.”
Yet resolve hardened within me.
Hadn’t I sensed it every time I touched the Grand Duke?
That warmth that bloomed through me upon grasping his sturdy hand—our bodies aligned perfectly.
Perhaps my presence would clear the path, allowing Enolius to mend any injuries with his spells unhindered.
Above all, the image of that kind man wracked with suffering ignited a fierce ache in my chest.
How intense must the pain be to etch such despair on Whitley’s face?
“I’ve settled the difficult choice—now step aside,” I declared.
Enolius exhaled in exasperation and relented, disengaging the lock.
The chamber beyond lay shrouded in utter darkness.
A dense, heated gust stirred faintly, coiling like a whirlwind.
“We extinguished every light to minimize provocation,” he explained.
I halted Enolius as he moved to trail me.
“I’ll proceed alone.”
“What? But should anything—”
“It’s all right.”
I had no desire to expose any unseemly vulnerability to the mage. I shoved him back.
“Stay out until I summon you.”
“But—”
“Remain outside.”
“…Call out immediately if trouble arises,” he urged, concern carving deep lines into his features.
I thrust him into the corridor and secured the door.
Alone now, my pulse hammered wildly—the atmosphere within was far more oppressive than I’d imagined.
The sparse room contained only a bed.
No sign of anyone on it…?
As my vision adapted, a dim, flickering silhouette resolved beneath the bedframe.
“Loic?”
Drawing nearer, I discerned a massive figure huddled there, wrists shackled in heavy restraints.
Witnessing his powerful frame curled and shuddering in torment plunged my heart into freefall.
“Loic!”
I sank to my knees at his side.
A guttural rasp escaped him as he struggled to raise his head.
Disheveled black locks fell away, revealing the chiseled contours of his face—contorted in anguish.
“Are you all right? Is the pain unbearable?”
Comprehension seemed beyond him.
The tender dark eyes from mere hours ago had transformed into a vivid, searing gold.
All rationality had fled; nothing remained but feral instinct.
That blood-veined, alien stare pierced me with sorrow.
“Endure it. I’ll stop the hurt shortly.”
Fierce gusts lashed about him.
Suppressing my dread at this nightmarish spectacle, I extended my hand with deliberate calm.
His form convulsed in savage jerks.
I clasped his enormous, quaking fist with both of mine.
Scorching warmth seeped into me via his fevered flesh.
Is it taking hold?
Yet his suffering showed no abatement.
Rasping moans clawed from his throat; chills raced over my skin.
Hands alone won’t suffice?
Dread constricted my ribs.
Greater contact might accelerate the process.
Fingers flying, I unfastened his shirt.
A vast, muscled torso gleamed revealed.
No moment for modesty.
I pressed my cheek to his naked skin and encircled his torso; blistering heat enveloped my face.
The influx surged swifter than from mere handholding.
Still, his labored breaths refused to steady.
Tears leaked from his blazing gaze.
Anxiety made my fingers tremble.
Loic—the Grand Duke—appeared consumed by agony.
Beholding him chained and thrashing like some trapped beast set my own eyes aflame.
How had you survived this?
Month after month?
Before my arrival?
And you concealed it from me?
Even knowing I could relieve it?
Never once did you seek my aid?
After an eternity of clinging to him, the spasms began to subside faintly.
Loic gradually raised his head.
“Annette?”
Even with ruptured vessels and tears carving paths down his cheeks, astonishment flickered in his eyes.
“Why… are you here…”
His feeble hand alighted on my shoulder.
“Leave… please. It’s too hazardous.”
His voice grated, fractured and raw.
A bitten lip glistened with crimson beads.
If only I could diminish that suffering…
“…”
Yielding to impulse, I brushed my lips against his.
Mm.
Loic recoiled sharply, fingers digging into my shoulder.
His cracked lips burned, arid as desert stone.
I couldn’t say what drove me.
Instinct, perhaps.
The metallic tang of blood from his wound met my tongue, and abruptly, he crushed his mouth to mine with desperate fervor.
“W-Wait—mmph!”
A torrent of fire cascaded through me.
If clasping hands had been a mere rivulet, this union unleashed a floodgate—the mana deluged into me.
Every nerve ignited; awareness heightened to exquisite sharpness across my frame.
Loic bore down upon me with increasing urgency.
Breath mingled with breath as he funneled his essence into me, gripping with ravenous need. The rattle of chains mingled with our labored gasps, echoing through the space.
His robust form pinned me, dazing my senses.
The unyielding kiss ensnared me utterly; vision bleached to blinding white.
E-Enough!
Saturated, I wrenched free.
When at last I thrust him back and our mouths separated, he traced his lips with his tongue, gaze unfocused. His throat worked as he fixated on my lips.
The gale encircling us had fallen still.
Even the once-razor air had softened to gentleness.
I grasped nothing of what had transpired.
Gasping raggedly, I gulped down air.
“Just… a bit longer…” he whispered huskily into my ear.
“L-Loic?”
A flush stained his cheeks as he parted his lips, cocked his head, and leaned in once more.
“I’ve… restrained myself… far too long…”
Tremors had deserted his body.
The manacles bound him, yet I lay immobilized, transfixed.
Fists clenched, I couldn’t deny the encroaching shadow upon my features.
“My lady… my lady…”
Our lips joined anew; a luscious warmth unfurled within me.
Unbidden, my eyelids drifted shut.
The world whirled, vertiginous and luminous.