The calm is always deepest before the storm. The days were growing colder with each passing day, and that could only mean one thing: an invasion from the barbarians could come at any time.
Before the Taran Valley froze over, they would throw everything they had into reclaiming Rantschka—just as they had for the past two years. Everyone within the fortress was on edge, the tension mounting by the day.
The issue with war wasn’t about winning or losing. The real problem was that someone could get hurt—or worse, lives could be lost. And it wasn’t rare for those lives to be precious ones.
Though it didn’t compare to the knights lost in the ten-year war against Tehevia, Lukas had still lost many Black Knights during his two and a half years stationed here.
What Rantschka needed was time—and mercenaries. With enough men, they could solidify their hold on the fortress. Then, and only then, could they completely wipe out the barbarian clan occupying the Kellen region.
Today marked the fourth day since Tessa had departed for Tehevia with his letter.
“Mm…”
A rustling sound stirred Lukas from his sleep, and he slowly blinked open his tired eyes. The moonlight hadn’t yet faded from the sky. Adrienne was still asleep beside him.
Tonight made it the fifth night he’d spent with Adrienne. No matter how much he touched her, the thirst wouldn’t fade.
No.
To be exact, the thirst only grew worse.
It was like gulping down seawater—parching him even more. She was driving him mad, to the point where it felt like poison. Sweet, addictive poison.
“It’s only natural for a man of your age, Your Highness. No need to be embarrassed in front of me.”
Jackson had chuckled when Lukas showed up at Adrienne’s room night after night. And it wasn’t just Jackson. Everyone in the fortress eyed him with curiosity and whispered among themselves.
“What’s the problem here?”
Lukas frowned slightly, brushing his fingertip over Adrienne’s soft cheek.
She murmured in her sleep and unconsciously burrowed closer into his arms. His heart, which had been quiet moments before, began to thunder in his chest. Feeling his body respond, Lukas frowned deeper.
“The problem… is you.”
Lukas let out a short, incredulous laugh into the darkness and turned fully toward her. His fingers moved gently over her pale skin, but they were gaining intensity. A faint line creased Adrienne’s smooth forehead.
When his hand finally dipped lower, Adrienne’s eyelids fluttered open. Her wide, emerald eyes trembled with confusion and alarm.
Tch.
She still hadn’t gotten used to this. Every time, she looked surprised, flustered.
“I was just debating whether or not I should wake you.”
He took her small chin in his hand and parted her lips with his. As he exhaled his heat into her mouth, Adrienne trembled, her delicate body reacting instinctively.
No wonder I’m addicted. How could something this sweet not be?
Lukas closed his eyes as he trailed kisses down her slender neck, his hands following the shape of her body in the dark.
His senses danced—each nerve sparked with burning heat that overwhelmed the rhythm.
It should have been familiar by now, but it wasn’t. He kept blaming Adrienne for being unaccustomed to him, but perhaps it was Lukas who was truly becoming more unhinged each time.
He had never thought of restraint as a virtue, yet discipline had long been embedded in him. And still, whenever he held Adrienne, the word restraint simply ceased to exist.
“Mm…”
He listened with closed eyes as Adrienne let out a soft moan. Her sleepy voice—was it always this deep, this rich? Just yesterday, he’d told himself not to obsess over something so trivial as her voice.
Yet here he was, longing for it again.
Longing…?
His brow furrowed sharply.
What are you?
A sharp gleam flickered in his eyes, catching the cold tint of the moonlight. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb over her damp lips. As he did, Adrienne’s eyes slowly opened.
“Tell me. What… are you?”
Of course, she wouldn’t answer—but that didn’t matter. Lucas asked the question anyway, staring deep into her eyes.
“To me…”
The moment her lips met his, Lukas’s words fell away. His eyes widened in surprise. Adrienne had never kissed him first before. Not once.
Yet now—
A small, hesitant tongue grazed his mouth. Awkward, clumsy… and utterly intoxicating. His blood surged in the opposite direction, the sensation flipping his world upside down.
Lukas fought to keep his composure. Adrienne’s timid efforts were unexpectedly endearing.
Do more.
He tried to appear relaxed, but the act didn’t last long. As Adrienne grew a little bolder, his ability to feign patience crumbled.
With a smooth motion, Lucas rolled them over, pressing her body beneath his. Adrienne gasped in surprise, and he took her lips again, fully this time.
To hell with patience.
He had spent his entire life enduring—because his mother was a serf, because he was a bastard, because it was wartime. Endure, endure, and endure again.
He had even held back from exterminating the barbarians. The time wasn’t right. Everything had to be perfect first.
But this woman—She was different.
She was his wife. His to own.
And it was nighttime.
So if he overwhelmed her until it became too much, then so be it.
Though, honestly… I doubt it ever will.
Lukas let out a quiet scoff and devoured Adrienne like a crashing wave. Heat flared through his body, threatening to consume him. Her warmth spread across his skin, soft and blinding.
He surrendered to the dizzying sensation, trembling with a surge so powerful it stole his breath.
Haah…
Adrienne’s breath spilled out into the air, hot and ragged.
Overwhelmed by the intensity, tears welled and slipped down her cheeks. Lukas raised his head and kissed them away. Only then did her trembling subside.
Dawn was breaking. The cool, damp air of early morning seeped in. Yet, with Adrienne in his arms, burning with heat, Lukas was finally able to close his eyes.
Hoping the night would return soon.
____________𔒝 ࿆ ꫂ ၴႅၴ __________
No raids had occurred—not even a skirmish. Perhaps the barbarians were preparing for something bigger. The Kellen region and the Taran Valley were eerily quiet.
“Any suspicious movements?”
“No, sir. It’s… unnervingly quiet.”
“We scouted up to the mouth of the valley. Nothing unusual.”
“Strange…”
Lukas rubbed his chin, thinking. It wasn’t entirely unusual for activity to die down just before the full-on winter battles. But even so, this silence felt off.
Given the terrain of Kellen, scouting in small groups was already risky. With the fog still rolling in thick and heavy, it was even worse.
“How long until Tessa arrives with the mercenaries?”
“He probably hasn’t even sat at the negotiation table yet.”
Only five days had passed. And they weren’t even sure yet if Dephil would accept the offer. With so many tangled political interests, a single misstep could create an unexpected enemy.
Lukas had only met Dephil twice. The man was ambitious and shrewd. If he chose to go against Lukas’s wishes…
That would be a problem.
Then again, there was Adrienne—Dephil’s only daughter. The two weren’t close, but blood was blood.
Surely he wouldn’t abandon his daughter.
…Then again.
Not all blood ties were equal.
Lukas’s thick brows twitched in displeasure.
“Don’t push too deep into the valley. It’s dangerous. We can’t afford to lose even one man right now.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
“Don’t worry, sir.”
With that, the two scouts left the room. Lukas rose from his desk and walked to the window. If not for the looming threat of the barbarians, Rantschka could’ve known peace like this every day.
“What’s on your mind, Your Highness?”
A sudden voice startled him. Lukas turned his head. When had he entered? Jeord now stood just a step behind him.
“I knocked, as always.”
“What?”
Lukas raised an eyebrow.
“You seemed a bit startled.”
“What is it?”
“A letter has arrived.”
“Already? From Tessa?”
“No, sir… Not from Tessa.”
“Then from whom?”
“It’s from Crown Castle.”
“What? Crown Castle?”
Lukas accepted the scroll with a wary expression. As he unrolled the parchment, his eyes scanned the contents—and his entire body went still.
“…”
“Your Highness? What is it?”
Jeord asked anxiously as Lukas’s fingers crushed the parchment into a fist.
“The Emperor… is dead.”
“What? His Majesty…?”
Now, Agmund would ascend the imperial throne.
The era of Xerses was over.
Agmund’s reign had begun.
