Chapter 7
“It should have been entirely possible.”
If Lexion refused, she had even considered forcing a sedative on him.
In truth, Kyrie had already gathered more than a handful of such drugs.
The people of the ducal household had long ago discovered that silencing her with medicine was far quicker and simpler than attempting to console her.
Feigning to swallow the pills, she had carefully hidden a few inside the pendant necklace her mother left her.
Because no one ever knew when or how such things might come in handy.
If the Crown Prince failed to appear asleep, the ever-suspicious Emperor would storm into the bedchamber himself, dragging the nobles with him.
And there, they would witness her lying naked beside the Crown Prince.
That was precisely what Kyrie wanted.
‘If it happens in front of everyone, no one will be able to deny it.’
Kyrie planned to claim that she and Lexion had spent the night together.
Regardless of what had actually happened.
With that thought in mind, she had slipped away while the ballroom’s attention was elsewhere, sneaking into the Crown Prince’s palace.
She had laced the servants’ drinks with sedatives, and once they fell asleep, she entered the bedchamber, undressed, and sat on the bed.
All that was left was for Lexion to stagger in, dead drunk, and fall straight into the trap she’d laid.
But this was entirely unforeseen.
It wasn’t Lexion, nor the Crown Prince’s palace guards.
It was a large, hard man, reeking of gunpowder, who had caught her instead.
‘What the hell is this situation?’
Even as she steadied her breath to grasp what was happening, her heart pounded, sending blood surging through her entire body.
From the thick, powerful arm that could snap her slender neck like a dry twig, she could feel a steady, unflinching pulse. As if utterly unbothered to find her here.
So calm, in fact, it felt inhuman.
“……”
The moment the pressure around her throat made her instinctively swallow….
“Who are you?”
The voice was chillingly low and intimate, carrying clearly through the stillness.
It pooled in her ear and sent a shiver of goosebumps rippling up the nape of her neck.
‘A voice I’ve never heard before.’
She had never encountered a voice so low, so soft within the palace or the social circles of the capital.
If she had, it would be impossible to forget.
‘Not someone from the capital’s social circles?’
‘Could it be… Dominique Roman Haswell? The First Grand Duke?’
‘I heard he recently arrived in the capital…’
‘No. It couldn’t be.’
Just as Kyrie instinctively approached the right answer….
A word utterly beyond her expectations slipped from the man’s lips.
“Mad dog?”
‘What…’
The moment she heard that, Kyrie turned her head in disbelief. And their eyes met.
A man drained of color stood before her.
Moonlight spilled over his raven-black hair, scattering light in every direction.
The sharp line of his profile broke apart in pale splinters where the light touched.
His glassy, unblinking gaze bore into her, and Kyrie felt goosebumps race down her arms.
Too beautiful.
Too indifferent.
So detached, he seemed almost inanimate.
Like a masterpiece of marble carved by the finest sculptor of the age.
The only proof that he was made of blood and flesh, living and breathing, was….
“Ah. Forgive me.”
“……”
“You must be the notorious young lady.”
The faint curl of his lips as he spoke was all.
Though it was far from a kind smile, the effect of that expression on his face was no less mesmerizing.
Kyrie let out a long, involuntary breath.
Even with no warmth in it, that fleeting smile had a way of drawing one’s gaze.
Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat, where it brushed against his inner arm.
A soft rustle.
The sound of thin fabric shifting carried loud and clear in the silence.
And only then did Kyrie come back to herself.
“……”
Both their gazes dropped simultaneously to her body.
To the pale skin and the curves visible through the nearly translucent fabric.
To the negligee so loosely draped over her that a slight tilt of the man’s head would expose everything beneath it.
In the chill of the air, her cleavage rose starkly beneath the gossamer scrap of cloth.
The tension that had scattered briefly now coiled tight again, on the verge of baring its teeth.
And then Kyrie, quite to her surprise, felt a flush of shame and indignation.
‘Me? Now?’
Not when she’d slipped away from the ball, not when she crept into the Crown Prince’s palace, not even as she undressed in his bedchamber.
In fact, she’d felt rather liberated when she took off her corset.
But now, under those inorganic, unflinching eyes, under that sharp, dissecting gaze, such feelings surfaced.
To shake them off, Kyrie blurted impulsively.
“And you must be the infamous Grand Duke.”
The smile lingering at the Grand Duke’s lips shifted subtly.
As though to say, ‘And what would a thing like you know of me?’
He spoke again, without averting his gaze from her body.
“A woman who sneaks into the Crown Prince’s bedchamber at this hour after drugging his attendants.”
“……”
“You realize you could be charged with attempted assassination for this.”
Assassination?
Kyrie nearly laughed at the absurdity.
She hadn’t come to kill the Crown Prince, she merely intended to lie beside him.
Still, under the circumstances, she could hardly argue if someone chose to say so.
After all, she had drugged the servants and crept in.
If she had truly wished it, she could’ve concealed a dagger beneath her garments as well.
She admitted this inwardly, even as she tilted her head slightly in feigned ignorance.
She could confess what she intended to do.
Say it wasn’t an assassination at all.
Not that it mattered, surely the Grand Duke, who’d been staring her down all this while, would have realized the truth.
But still, she was gripped by the childish impulse to unsettle him.
Because of that gaze, cold and unrelenting.
‘If I just come out with it.’
If she brazenly declared she meant to force herself onto the Crown Prince, to claim his body as hers, would it fluster him?
But such thoughts were pure fantasy.
Silver hair glinted as it slipped along the Grand Duke’s arm.
“And what about you, Your Grace?”
Kyrie pressed on, forcing the stiffness from her lips.
“What brings you into an empty palace at such a late hour?”
Whatever the circumstances, both of them were equally compromised.
Kyrie, unaware of Lexion’s request, thought so.
The Grand Duke spoke impassively.
“I might say I’m under suspicion for an assassination attempt myself.”
“And why would that be?”
It was a sharp, cutting response.
The Grand Duke shifted his gaze to her face.
And Kyrie met it head-on, unyielding.
She had never once yielded to anyone, and even less so to this man.
Because every moment their eyes met, a strange chill ran down her spine and set her nerves on edge.
“I see.”
And with that, quite unexpectedly, the Grand Duke released her.
His fingers slid slowly from her wrists, trailing over her skin as they fell away.
The hand that had gripped her throat lowered, grazing dangerously close to her chest as it passed.
The stirring air made her body prickle all the more.
The moment he let go, Kyrie quickly put distance between them, surprisingly swift for someone so lightly dressed.
And only then did she remember the possibility of him reporting her.
‘He said he serves the Crown Prince.’
The nobles often gossiped of the loyalty between the Grand Duke and Lexion, of how they stood by one another.
‘If he means to denounce me for Lexion’s sake…’
If he intended to accuse her of attempted assassination for sneaking into the Crown Prince’s bedchamber.
For a fleeting instant, Kyrie pictured herself pushing the Grand Duke down in Lexion’s place, clambering atop him.
Perhaps she could silence him that way.
If she claimed the Grand Duke had violated her, perhaps then he would hold his tongue.
But it was a foolish thought.
This man was no drunken Crown Prince, but far more robust and unyielding.
Trying to overpower him would be like throwing an egg at a fortress wall.
More likely, she’d find herself pinned down again, perhaps this time with a broken bone or two.
And Kyrie was still rational enough to realize that.
‘Then what should I do?’
If branded an assassin, all that awaited her was death.
She’d long thought herself unafraid of death, but to be condemned before even making an attempt, to be punished for something left undone, stirred a particular bitterness.
Better, then, to drag him down with her.
“In that case, if you intend to denounce me…”
Kyrie began impulsively.
The Grand Duke studied her in silence, then replied.
“That depends on you, My lady.”
What did he mean by that?
Kyrie furrowed her brow, unable to read his intentions.
There was an unmistakable leisure in him, the composure of one who held all the cards.
Just as she parted her lips to ask what he meant….
Tap.
In the blink of an eye, the Grand Duke was standing close again, rendering the distance she’d gained meaningless.
