Chapter 6
Patricia bit her lower lip until it turned white.
‘Go back to Tane. But how? Patricia, get a grip.’
She had to save Patrick, who had collapsed after being poisoned by Empress Pamilla’s scheme. He had to be rescued from Pamilla’s hands.
‘But to be stuck here like this.’
Above all, she had been taken to the enemy emperor’s bedchamber.
‘Why? …To his bedchamber!’
He should have kept her in the military barracks, not brought her all the way to the castle. If she had been in the barracks, she might’ve found a way to make contact with Eden, who was in the Crimson Forest camp with the other captured soldiers. At the very least, she could’ve heard news from Tane.
‘How on earth am I supposed to get out of here?’
The emperor unraveled the chain he had wrapped around his wrist with a clinking sound. He approached the bed holding the chain and pulled Patricia—who was sitting upright—by her shoulders and waist, laying her down on the bed.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Binding a prisoner who might try to escape.”
Patricia, who was wearing nothing but a men’s shirt, was flustered. With her bound hands, she pulled down the hem of the shirt that had ridden up over her thighs as much as she could.
The emperor watched her leisurely and let out a slow smile.
“Pardon me for a moment, Princess.”
He took her right hand and cuffed her wrist. Then, as he reached for her slender ankle, she tensed her foot. He hesitated briefly but soon grabbed her ankle and fastened the shackle.
He slipped the key into his pants pocket and bound the chain to the bedpost.
“You’ll stay here for three days, uncomfortable as it may be. I’ll decide what to do next depending on the negotiation terms from Tane.”
‘Why must it be the emperor’s bed? I’d rather—’
“Please send me to the military barracks, where the other prisoners from Tane are.”
“Why? So you can plan an escape? If you don’t like my bedchamber, there’s always the dungeon.”
The emperor leaned his large torso over her and looked down. The front of his black silk robe parted, slipping off toward his left shoulder.
‘Gasp! What’s with that body. It’s too blatantly seductive. This is not the time for that.’
Patricia loathed herself for being distracted by the glaringly exposed muscles in such a critical moment.
The thick, uneven texture of his muscles caught her attention, and she frowned as she tried to focus on the scar on his neck.
“Please, just send me to the dungeon.”
A red wound, left by the slash of a blade, had dried in a thick crust beneath his neck.
She had been staring at the firm muscles beneath the scar, the protruding collarbone and the tensing neckline, but bit her lip and looked up, only to be startled.
Beneath his thick lashes, deep green eyes were gazing down at her intently.
The dungeon. It was fitting for the ruler of an enemy nation, but he couldn’t bring himself to lock a princess in such a place.
The emperor leaned even closer, until their noses were almost touching.
“You have a habit of biting your lips.”
He tilted his head and blatantly stared at her lips. When she let go of her bitten lip, her full lips parted slightly.
“Phew…”
He straightened up, raised his head, and let out a sharp sigh.
“There are rats and snakes that slip between the walls down there. Just… stay here.”
In my bedchamber.
The emperor’s face also turned red as he looked down at Patricia, who had turned her flushed cheeks away.
“Answer.”
“As you wish.”
The princess was wearing his shirt. It was big and loose, revealing everything underneath. Her slender, straight neckline, collarbones, and the pale skin beneath stood out even more.
The posture, well… it was quite something.
Her golden hair was scattered across the white bed sheets. He had an urge to run his hands through it, to feel its softness, to smell her scent. Startled by himself, the emperor quickly jerked away irritably.
He snapped open the blanket that had slipped down to the foot of the bed and covered her with it.
He felt thirsty.
He went to the tea table. He started to pour water from the kettle, but instead, he picked up the pewter cup with the leftover liquor and drank it.
The emperor leaned back against the sofa.
She looks exactly like Patrick. It’s bothering me.
The emperor brought his nose to his shoulder and inhaled. He realized that what was bothering him was the scent coming from her body.
It was the same scent he had smelled at the edge of the Tamil Valley cliff—a scent so striking it made him forget to breathe, stimulating every nerve in his body.
But, ah. He had smelled this scent before… Yes, sometimes… Ha.
So she didn’t just wear his armor in his place, but she even came to the academy?
The emperor swallowed a bitter smile.
Since when, and why, had she been pretending to be Patrick in armor?
He recalled the days he had spent with Patrick.
Had she come to the Poeni tavern in Patrick’s place too? At the tavern, they would always laugh and drink, shoulders pressed close together. No, she wouldn’t have come there. He shook his head.
He remembered the day freshman Patrick first attended the third-year humanities lecture.
It had been a discussion-based class, and Patrick had boldly criticized a senior’s argument.
A freshman, daring to… Ah, His Highness the Crown Prince.
At the murmuring of the students, Harzen turned to look. The strikingly beautiful boy with blond hair down to his shoulders had sharp eyes of sky blue.
It was the moment all his prejudices about the son of the war-crazed Emperor Kazan shattered in an instant.
Patricia Kalyan Evas, twin sister of Patrick.
Was it her usual attire as a princess—the dress she wore at the graduation banquet? She had been crying.
Harzen had witnessed and experienced a fantastical scene. He had drunk a lot of Tane’s strong liquor that night, but he hadn’t been drunk.
Kalip had shaken Harzen awake at dawn from where he’d fallen asleep on the wisteria bench at the end of the long corridor.
Harzen sat up and touched his cheek. He thought it was a dream, a hallucination. But the cat mask was still there. The hand that had slapped his cheek, the sensation of her lips, and her scent were vivid.
He had Kalip obtain the guest list from the masquerade ball. He checked the family names of the listed ladies, but none of them had golden hair.
Then he saw Patrick’s name, which hadn’t been seen at the banquet, on the list of attendees. His partner was listed as Patricia Patterson, and the accompanying knight as Eden Patterson.
The Pattersons were a viscount family in charge of administrative affairs in the Tane Empire. Upon investigating through Kalip, he learned there were only two sons in the Patterson family, no daughters.
He was confused. Even if he told Patrick that he had secretly obtained the guest list, there was no clear way to confirm the truth through him. On top of that, he had no time to spare, having returned to Karsik earlier than planned due to the emperor’s worsening illness.
The woman who vanished after dropping the cat mask, the unfamiliar aura that occasionally lingered around Patrick—there were times when even a light touch made him flinch and push away… Damn it!
Only now did the pieces start to come together.
The princess, Patrick’s twin, had been a hidden shadow, and she had even attended academy classes in his place.
“They toyed with me. Both of them.”
And now, she was wearing armor and starting a war in Patrick’s place. But why?
The more he thought about it, the more questions arose. He sank deeper into the maze of suspicion, into a swamp of doubt.
Sleep crept in under the influence of the strong liquor. His eyes closed with a rustle. Darkness soaked into his body. Bluish moonlight touched the window.
Bathed in moonlight, the midsummer insects flitted across the black night. It was a suspicious night.
Thirsty, the emperor woke in his sleep, drank some water, and returned to bed. Out of habit, he tossed off his bathrobe.
*
Dawn mist spread across Panaho.
He awoke to a sweet scent and a warm, soft sensation.
Gasp!
The emperor opened his eyes and looked down at the princess in his arms. Her right wrist and ankle were bound, and she was pressed right up against him.
Of all places on this large bed, why so close?
His right arm tingled. Her golden hair was wrapped around it, and her slightly curled upper body was nestled against his bare chest, her cheek touching his skin.
What the—!
He had taken off his robe in his sleep, as usual, and was only wearing pajama pants.
He told himself he should lay her down properly and get out of bed. But the warmth of her body felt so nice that he couldn’t move.
He looked down at the princess wearing his shirt.
The maids had used his favorite bath salts in her bath. From her voluminous hair came the same scent he always used.
He inhaled more deeply, longer. A faint, strangely familiar scent stirred something buried deep in his memory.
Her breath touched his bare chest. With each exhale, a flush spread across his chest.
What is this feeling?
Leaving his right arm as it was, he planted his left hand on the bed and leaned his upper body toward her face.
Soft breathing.
He breathed in through his nose. Sweet.
That delicate, pointed chin, the line of her neck, her small, round shoulders, those soft, plump lips. He stared at her slightly parted lips, gradually leaning closer without realizing, until their lips were nearly touching.
Ha! A-Are you insane!
He pulled his right arm free and shot upright. The bed shook, yet the princess continued to sleep soundly.
Unbelievable.
Heavy double curtains hung over the windows, casting the bedroom in dim light.
He moved toward the head of the bed and stood there. From the corner of his eye, he looked down at the princess, who was fast asleep in a completely defenseless state, her golden hair scattered across the sheets.
The thin cotton sheet was partly wedged between her legs, the rest draped beneath them.
His gaze followed the curve of her waist as she lay on her side. The hem of the shirt had ridden up, exposing a slender but firm-looking pale thigh.
Aside from the bound wrists and ankles, she didn’t resemble a prisoner at all—just peacefully asleep, disheveled and still.
He frowned and clenched his fist tightly. His blood rushed with a quickening pulse, pooling in one place.
Turning his gaze away, he left the bedroom and closed the door, then rang the service bell from the drawing room.
The emperor entered the dressing room from the drawing room to be attended to. The attendant disinfected the wound on his neck, applied a thin layer of herbs, and wrapped it in muslin.
“Your Majesty, it’s summer. I worry the wound may fester. Perhaps it would be better not to wear the uniform jacket so—”
“Silence.”
Over the black uniform adorned with golden insignia, the emperor donned his combat attire, including the pauldron armor that protected his shoulders and chest, and took Ahemel in his hand.
He gestured toward the drawing room for the attendants to go and then passed through the hallway to re-enter the bedroom. Holding Ahemel at chest level, he crossed the room but stopped mid-step. He couldn’t bring himself to approach her as she lay there in disarray, asleep.
Gulp.
He swallowed a vague sense of anxiety.
Princess, this is a situation you brought upon yourself. Now that you’ve been captured, what shall I do with you?
Recalling the uncertain days when he couldn’t discern the truth, the emperor looked down at her from a distance. He stared at the pink flush of her cheeks and her plump lips, then abruptly turned his body and strode across the room.
A twin.
He also considered the possibility that it wouldn’t be a negotiation envoy that came, but a second wave of troops.
Perhaps the war-mad Emperor Kazan and Patrick were stationed near the Tane border with their soldiers. Still, no matter how much of a shadow princess she was, using her as bait was reckless. She could die.
The more he thought about it, the more questions arose.
Was the princess truly just a shadow with no real status? A disposable bloodline to the Kazan emperor? Was that even possible?
Come, Patrick. If you arrive as the commander of the second wave, I’ll gladly meet you. But if you don’t, if neither you nor the negotiations come?
Then I’ll go to Tane myself. I’ll hear your excuse for sending your sister to war when you once preached against its horrors.
And your twin sister—I’ll make her my slave.
