Chapter 44
As Daniel propped himself up and pressed down on Frida's wrist, both her shoulders sank softly onto the bed. His dark shadow overlaid her startled face as she squeezed her eyes shut.
"What on earth gives you the courage to act so fearless?"
Her slender shoulders twitched, and soon Frida opened her eyes. Beneath Daniel's gaze spread a lake of violet. The untainted, pure violet crystals were piercingly clear. Her pristine pupils, unblemished by worldly stains, churned violently as they captured his bewildered self. Paradoxically, the moment he saw those clear eyes, the savage nature he had suppressed deep within writhed wildly. He had imagined it occasionally—no, truthfully, quite often. Himself tumbling about, disheveling this woman's snow-white hair without decorum. The lecherous Daniel, pretending to be human while hiding his ugly innards, had scolded him furiously countless times. Perhaps the Dowager Empress was the first to notice this side of him.
"You are the noble blood of Rihardt, Daniel. Just watch. You will soon become the empire's greatest knight. I cannot fathom why Laura lets you associate with lowly scum like the Mollys."
She had discerned and stoked his vulgar desire for ostentation and vanity. Though she viewed Daniel and Dominic as no different inside, she flattered him by saying he was unlike the lowborn Dominic. What use was resenting the Dowager Empress now? Blaming youth was laughable. He had been the fool completely taken in by it. Memories of the Dowager Empress were a panacea that cooled his overheated chest and head. They sent chills through his pounding heart and doused his throbbing skull with ice-cold water that could freeze his entire body. But this time was different. The bewilderingly enchanting sight of his wife before him pushed away those memories. Strange sensations akin to prickling pain coursed from his chest, nape, down to his toes. Daniel gripped her slender wrist tightly and rasped.
"Ah......"
It was a small, faint moan. Had he not seen her eyes crease, it would have been drowned out by the cries of birds perched on the window frame. Yet Daniel released the pressure on her wrist as if he had heard a scream.
"I......"
From the moment he awoke, he had been disoriented. That merely this small woman had stayed by his side allowed him the deepest sleep since regaining consciousness. He kept catching himself coveting this little woman. This was...... far from good. The results of his greed were usually horrific.
"Madam, I am not the sort of man you imagine."
"I am truly grateful. Your Grace is my benefactor who made my dream come true."
Benefactor? Did that even make sense?
"Least of all a benefactor. So if you expect anything from me, abandon it."
No more nights of her patting his back like soothing a child, as she had last night. Nor would he ever again indulge in such ridiculous whims. Frida was a pure, upright woman who viewed the world without cynicism or the ability to do so. Raised by exemplary parents, she upheld words like responsibility and duty, possessing an exceptional sense of mission unlike him—a perfect noble.
"Frida."
Yes, you, Frida. Fundamentally different from a selfish cur like me who tries to use you, wife or otherwise, at every opportunity...... a good person. A woman braver by leagues than him wielding a sword, armed only with frail, empty hands. A woman who must not be stained black by his shadow like this. Looking up at Daniel, that woman pouted the one part of her face with color—her lips.
"Not 'madam,' but 'Frida.'"
Steadying his ragged breath, Daniel lifted his shoulders slightly to widen the distance. Frida's white forehead escaped his shadow, regaining its original hue.
"I want Your Grace to call me Frida. I want to keep calling you Daniel too."
Frida's small red lips flapped teasingly as she chattered, as if tempting him.
"The Boild couple call each other by name too. Can't we? In the world, Baron couples' names are Ma...... Matilda...... Same as ours. Isn't it amazing?"
"You bastards better shape up! Think you're still lowly mercenaries? With knighthood in the Duke's house soon, what's with that mindset......!"
Ricardo's booming shout drifting through the window drowned out Frida's words. That man, really. Make him rot as a mercenary forever? Daniel's eyes flashed fiercely in an instant as he turned toward the window. Then soft, downy fingers cupped his cheek, forcing their eyes to meet.
"Still...... can we?"
"......"
Darkness crept back over Frida's forehead. Yet even shrouded in his shadow, she was blindingly beautiful and mystical. Like a jewel left by the gods atop a snow-covered plain after the first snowfall. Her eyes, incapable of losing their light anywhere, sparkled prettily.
"I want to."
The moment he saw her pouting lips like a sulky child and her innocent eyes, tension stiffened his nape.
'Damn it.'
Over the memory of their past kiss layered a new imagination. Deeper, rougher, merciless. One where he ravaged her until sated, following only a man's desires.
'You mad bastard.'
Self-loathing twisted Daniel's mind once more. As he felt faint pain and tried to turn away, Frida's hand followed as if to stop him.
"Don't just refuse—think about it a bit more."
She seemed worried he might forbid her calling his name. Holding his cheek as last night, she cooed soothingly like to a child.
"I expect nothing from Your Grace. You're already too perfect—what more could I want? That would be greed."
Her cheeks flushed as she panted softly.
"Your Grace is far stronger and more splendid than I ever imagined."
Saying it aloud made her mortified, wanting to avert her gaze, but her position left her immobile. Just then, Daniel's grimace seemed unusual. Worried, Frida reached her free left arm to press her palm to his forehead.
"I do wish for one thing. If you're in pain or struggling...... don't hold back—tell me. I care for Your Grace better than any physician. Really."
No fever emanated from Daniel's forehead.
"No fever. Phew. That's a relief."
As relieved Frida lowered her arm, her wrist was caught again. Daniel's long, hardened fingers, callused between the joints, intertwined seamlessly with hers.
"Daniel."
"......Pardon?"
Swallowing hard as she asked, Frida felt his face drawing inexplicably closer. Evidence: his breath at her nose tip grew hotter.
"You said you wanted to call my name."
The reflection of herself in Daniel's red eyes grew larger. Wait, re, red? Why suddenly? Did I mess up again? Flustered, Frida's words sped up.
"If, if the headache persists, I'll fetch warm herbal tea. It'll make you feel better. I'll bring it right......"
Daniel pinned her wriggling wrist deep into the bed and called her.
"Frida."
His eyes gazing intently grew redder still.
"You too—say it."
"......"
Overwhelmed by the man's unfamiliar aura, Frida clamped her mouth shut without question.
"When it hurts, or is too hard to bear."
Daniel's breath grew ragged. To avoid breaking her delicate fingers, he desperately eased his grip. Instead, he clutched the white sheets where her hair draped.
"I'm at my limit now."
Gazing at her slightly parted lips, Daniel slid into them without hesitation.
*** Even Stefan, who had held his back ramrod straight for about an hour, reached his limit. He thought he had dawdled quite late, yet two hours after entering the Duke's office, the master had yet to show his face.
"Are you truly planning to finish all this in a year?"
Pacing the office with the documents from Duke Rihardt in hand, he straightened swiftly at the sound of the door opening. But the entrant was not the Duke he awaited, but an unfamiliar man.
'Black hair? From Rapas?'
Observing the man closely, Stefan soon realized his identity. Freely entering the lord's office meant closeness to the Duke. Black hair and close to the Duke? Right, yesterday the Duchess had summoned that man and given instructions.
'Could he be the infamous Dominic Molly?'
The man bowed exaggeratedly toward Stefan, who couldn't tear his eyes away.
"First time meeting. Dominic Molly."
As Stefan predicted. Son of Ricardo Molly, captain of the mercenary corps that followed Duke Rihardt everywhere. Raised like brothers from childhood under Laura Czardo, the Duke's mother. The man said to do anything for Daniel Rihardt, dubbed the 'cold heart.' One of the Dowager Empress's flagged persons of interest.
"I am Stefan......"
"I know. Stefan Gordon Boild Baron. Our esteemed head butler, personally selected and sent by the imperial court out of concern for rundown Munheim Castle. Chelino University valedictorian, in-law to the sturdy Chamberlain Count, yet unluckily unconnected to Shendal Castle."
Dominic approached the window, flung the curtains open, and sunlight poured into the office.
"If Duke Rihardt is the Emperor's hunting dog, then you, Baron, are about a pet ready to wag its tail."
"......"
Even as Dominic spouted rude words offhandedly, Stefan neither raged nor offered excuses. He met Dominic's sly yet sharp gaze without flinching, back to the window. Far from intimidated. For a bookish scholar, his composure resembled the Duchess.
'Noble lord, eh?'
Snorting, Dominic turned back and opened the window. Well, Daniel had been like that in his youth too. Half-breed noble trash or not, he strutted around as if highborn.
"Whatever else, this duchy has killer weather."
Throwing both windows wide, he stretched and turned to Stefan.
"Our lord is awfully stingy. Could've given a guest from afar at least a day to rest. Anyway, no point hanging here today—you're in the wrong room."
"I heard this is the only office of His Grace."
"True, only one office."
Flashing a meaningful smile, Dominic approached and snatched the documents from Stefan's hand. Stefan's calm composure cracked, brows furrowing distinctly.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Dominic shrugged, flapping the papers.
"Sorry. I'm just an ignorant mercenary who knows nothing but what I've seen and learned. Let's see. Goodness, so many tasks? One, two......"
Pointing at the list with his finger while counting, Dominic suddenly looked up from the paper.
"By when did you say you'd finish this?"
Snatching the documents back, Stefan glared.
"None of your business. This is between His Grace and me."
"Doubt it."
Arms crossed, Dominic shouldered close and lowered his voice eerily.
"Want a secret?"
He waggled his index finger tauntingly before Stefan's eyes.
"Duke Rihardt has nothing to do. Absolutely nothing."
Then snapped his fingers sharply.
"Ah, right. Wonder what he's up to now."
