Chapter 114

Malena, quick on her feet despite the slight drag in her gait, excused herself the moment Matthias stepped into the room, as if guided by instinct alone. As she passed him, she allowed herself a brief, sidelong glance at his face and found her breath catching in quiet admiration. 

A man who had survived three years on the battlefield ought to have borne the marks of it in roughened skin and a hardened exterior, yet his complexion remained astonishingly clear, almost luminous, like polished pearl untouched by grime or exhaustion.

The last traces of youthful softness had vanished from his features, leaving behind sharply defined lines that emphasized his masculinity. Where his face had once held a certain delicate elegance, there was now depth and shadow, lending him a colder, more imposing presence. 

He seemed older, heavier with experience, his entire bearing transformed. Even Malena, who prided herself on her indifference to appearances, found herself momentarily struck. With that, she left the room, inwardly conceding that Odelliana’s decision to marry him for his looks alone was not entirely incomprehensible.

“Please, sit,” Odelliana said, clearing her throat as she gestured toward a chair.

Having been caught in the act of praising his appearance, she felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. The memory of her own recent indiscretion only made matters worse. The image of herself, clad in scandalous undergarments and emboldened by drink as she climbed onto his lap, surfaced vividly in her mind. The urge to scream in mortification rose sharply, and she suppressed it with visible effort.

In an attempt to dispel the awkwardness, she summoned a maid and instructed her to bring light refreshments. The maid returned promptly with candied fruit dusted in sugar, set it down, and quietly withdrew.

“What brings you here?” Odelliana asked, her tone careful, almost hesitant.

“I have something to deliver to you,” Matthias replied calmly.

Unlike her, he showed no trace of discomfort. His expression was composed, almost indifferent, as if nothing unusual had ever transpired between them. The ease with which he carried himself made her wonder if she had imagined everything. He placed a small chest before her, its lid secured over a bundle of tightly rolled documents.

“This is…” she began, her voice trailing off.

“These are the items you personally requested before my departure,” he explained.

“Ah.”

Realization dawned on her. These were the materials she had asked him to retrieve before he went to war.

“Please confirm them,” Matthias added. “I intercepted every single one without exception.”

Odelliana opened the chest and began unrolling the documents one by one, scanning their contents with increasing intensity. Time slipped by as she examined each piece. At last, she let out a quiet breath.

“You truly brought everything,” she murmured.

“It delayed the end of the war,” he said plainly. “Tracking them down took time.”

“How did you manage this?” she asked, unable to hide her astonishment. “Even for you, retrieving an enemy’s entire cache of confidential documents…”

“There is little I cannot find,” he answered simply.

What lay before her was no ordinary collection. These documents detailed the secret exchanges between the barbarian tribes and the Kingdom of Lerochelle, along with evidence of covert dealings with Erbaden. Encoded messages, operational directives, military maps, and ledgers listing supplies and transactions were all there. Together, they formed undeniable proof that the rebellion was not merely an internal uprising but one supported by foreign powers.

In her previous life, these very materials had enabled Jocelyn to launch a campaign against Lerochelle after the suppression of the barbarian revolt, securing immense political power in the process. If these documents never reached him, that future could be altered.

“Are you pleased with my gift?” Matthias asked.

“Very much so,” she replied sincerely.

With these documents in her possession, Jocelyn would lose the justification he needed to wage further war and amass glory. Preventing that outcome was essential.

“You’ve done well,” she added softly.

“You do not wonder why you asked for them?” he inquired.

“I assume you have your reasons,” he said before she could respond.

His restraint was unchanged. He neither pried nor pressed, sparing her the discomfort of explanation.

“Did you read them?” she asked.

“I did,” he answered. “I needed to confirm they were what you wanted.”

“You must have been surprised.”

“Not particularly,” he said with a faint smile. “I suspected external involvement already.”

He spoke of disciplined troops among the enemy ranks, superior weaponry, and well-organized supply lines. His observations were precise, leaving little doubt about his understanding of the war’s true nature.

“You don’t want to know how I knew?” she asked.

“Would you tell me if I asked?”

“No.”

“Then there is no need to ask,” he replied.

His quiet acceptance eased her. It was a trust that required no words.

“No one else knows of these documents?” she pressed.

“No one,” he assured her.

“Then this remains between us,” she said, extending her pinky finger toward him in a gesture of promise.

He stared at her hand for a moment before, instead of linking fingers, he bent forward and lightly bit it.

She flinched. “What are you doing? I was asking for a promise.”

He released her slowly, his gaze lingering on the faint marks left behind.

“I have imagined sinking my teeth into that pale, soft skin,” he said.

Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. His grip was firm, unyielding, and she found herself pressed against his chest. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck before grazing it with his teeth.

“Like this,” he murmured.

Her body stiffened instinctively, but his hand moved gently along her back, soothing.

“I imagined marking you,” he continued quietly, “so that anyone could see.”

His warmth enveloped her, unfamiliar yet not unwelcome. Flustered, she buried her face against his shoulder rather than meet his gaze.

“Why do you like me?” she asked at last, her voice small.

He did not answer immediately. Instead, he tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“I was nothing once,” he said. “A beggar with nothing to my name.”

She said nothing.

“You reached out your hand to me when I was at my lowest.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“And does liking someone require a reason?”

Before she could respond, his lips covered hers. The kiss was thorough, deliberate, leaving no space between them. His hand cradled the back of her head as if anchoring her there. The warmth of his breath, the careful attention in every movement, conveyed a depth of feeling that words could not.

At first, she was tense, acutely aware of every sensation, but gradually she relaxed, closing her eyes. The quiet room filled with the soft sounds of their shared breath, and though the intimacy was unfamiliar, it was not unpleasant. She clutched his clothing, grounding herself as the moment stretched on.

Meanwhile, far away in the capital, the atmosphere was anything but tender.

The city celebrated victory, but the House of Gruzevald was steeped in unease. The duke and his cherished daughter, Orledette, had anticipated the prince’s triumphant return. Instead, rumors reached them first. Tales of a romance formed on the battlefield spread rapidly, growing more elaborate with each retelling.

The woman at the center of it all was said to be none other than Odelliana von Gruzevald.

The use of her full name struck like a blow. The duke’s complexion paled, while Orledette’s fury erupted unchecked. That the discarded daughter of their house had not only distinguished herself but captured the prince’s attention was an affront to both pride and control.

They had hoped to dismiss the rumors as idle gossip, but the name made that impossible. The situation threatened to expose truths they had long sought to bury.

When the prince finally arrived, after days of celebration and a period of rest, he wasted no time in addressing the matter.

“I will annul my engagement to Lady Orledette,” he declared calmly.

The words fell like a blade, clean and irrevocable.