15.

The voice whispering against the nape of her neck was hot—almost overwhelmingly so.

As she struggled, the blankets were tossed into disarray.

Her soft pink hair spilled like embroidery over the stark white sheets.

“W-Wait— ngh!”

Riad caught both of Henesstia’s wrists and pinned them to the bed as if to keep her in place. Then, he lowered his face between the open collar of her clothes.

Wherever he touched, her pale skin flushed with blooming heat. He buried his face in the sweet-smelling valley of her chest.

“Hngh… H-Haa!”

“Damn…”

A low curse vibrated from his throat. His dark hair brushed against her skin, making her shiver.

He alternated between gently biting and licking the top of her chest. Then, he softly cupped her through her clothes, his large hand wrapping tenderly around the curve.

“N-No…!”

Startled by her intense reaction, he briefly pulled his hand back. With his free hand—no longer holding her wrists—he casually removed her shoes, then slowly caressed her ankle and began tracing up her calf.

His lips crept under the fabric, advancing with growing intent.

But then, he suddenly stopped.

As he withdrew, Henesstia—who had braced herself and shut her eyes—couldn’t help but lift her trembling lids.

The warmth vanished in an instant, and her lashes quivered in its absence. A single tear, unbidden, clung to the edge of her lashes.

“There’s no mood to speak of, huh.”

Is… is he stopping?

Her wrists had already been released. Cautiously, Henesstia pushed herself upright.

She couldn’t help but watch his expression closely. She couldn’t tell if his comment was scolding her or just an offhand remark.

The atmosphere had turned awkward.

It didn’t help that something hard and firm had gotten caught between her legs—making it all the more uncomfortable.

It felt like the hilt of the sword he’d had on his belt earlier, so Henesstia shifted subtly to free her leg.

But Riad’s body jerked slightly, a vein rising on his forehead.

“Don’t move.”

His voice was tight, as if gritting his teeth, and Henesstia froze.

He swept a hand through his hair as he looked at her.

“No, I didn’t mean—”

But he didn’t finish his sentence.

Because just as she was slowly sitting up, blinking with visible unease, a stifled cry escaped her lips.

“Ugh!”

She started to push herself up on her arms—then suddenly collapsed.

Or rather, she would have, if Riad hadn’t caught her in time.

“What the hell?”

He held her upright and asked, but before Henesstia could even answer, he figured it out himself.

“Your arm—show me.”

Her whole body hurt, but it was the bruise on her left arm—caused by falling off the bed the night before—that hurt the most.

Even as she hesitated to answer, Riad pulled down her clothes.

The collar, already half-undone, slid down easily under his touch.

But all the desire from earlier vanished in an instant. Riad’s expression cooled as he looked down at her exposed shoulder.

“It should’ve gone down after a night’s rest… what the hell happened?”

Her left arm was swollen and red—anyone could see it was serious.

She wanted to say it was because the Baron and Baroness had tossed her around like a rag all morning… but she couldn’t bring herself to voice it. Instead, she bit her lip through the pain.

When she glanced at her shoulder, it was even more purple than she’d expected.

“The medicine you gave me yesterday… If I apply it, it’ll be fine.”

It had worked well the day before—so surely it would again.

“You still look like this after using that medicine. You think it’s going to be enough? I’ll call a physician.”

That might’ve been the better option, but even the idea of a doctor made Henesstia uncomfortable.

The pain was one thing—but what stirred unease inside her was the discomfort twisting in her gut at the thought of bringing someone else into this vulnerable moment.

Henesstia lowered her head.

“I’m really fine… just the medicine, please. Just the medicine.”

Riad himself had said yesterday that the bone wasn’t broken. It couldn’t be anything serious.

She didn’t want a doctor brought into this house of thorns, where everything was already suffocating. It wasn’t the pain in her body—it was everything else she couldn’t bear.

Riad said nothing for a moment, silently staring down at her.

Then he suddenly shouted toward the door.

“Someone go get Cedric!”

An answer came back almost immediately, as if the person had been waiting.

“I’ll bring him right away!”

Henesstia jumped in alarm. Someone was outside the door this whole time?

Th-they didn’t… hear anything, did they?

Face gone pale, she grabbed Riad’s arm.

“There was someone out there? Then… did they hear us…?”

Riad’s expression darkened.

“As if I’d let that happen. He was far enough not to hear. Don’t worry about it.”

She let out a shaky breath of relief.

Once he completely stepped away from her, Henesstia quickly scrambled to fix her disheveled clothes.

But it was no use—two more buttons had fallen off in the chaos, and her skirt was so wrinkled it looked like it had been crumpled in a corner. She wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing it even if she was alone.

It had been one of the only dresses the Baroness had given her in the past year, and now it was ruined.

She was still lamenting the dress when Riad looked up.

After glancing once toward the door, he suddenly picked up his coat from the bed and draped it over her. Then, he even wrapped the blanket around her again.

“…?”

Henesstia looked up at him in confusion, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he simply walked toward the door and swung it open.

“Whoa! You scared me!”

A strange yelp rang through the room. Henesstia’s eyes widened as she clutched the blanket tighter around herself.

She couldn’t see past Riad’s broad back, but it was probably the person he’d called for earlier.

Remembering everything that had just happened—and her own condition—Henesstia burrowed deeper into the blankets.

Thankfully, Riad didn’t seem interested in letting anyone into the room. He stood at the doorway like a guard.

“Cedric, go get Adnin’s medicine. And ice.”

“So you really weren’t coming out. Everyone was waiting. Did you get hurt or something?”

Cedric had heard the Count had returned, but after that, only word that he’d gone straight into a room with the young lady. He now eyed Riad carefully.

“It’s not me.”

“What? Then who—oh.”

Cedric’s mouth snapped shut.

Listening to their conversation from inside, Henesstia couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of unease.

“Well, got it. Edin has it, so I can grab it right away.”

“And bring clothes too.”

“Clothes? What kind…?”

Riad glanced slightly back toward Henesstia before answering.

After that, she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Cedric’s voice dropped to a murmur, and soon, his footsteps faded into the distance.

Riad closed the door and returned to her.

“He’ll bring the medicine. For most wounds, I’m better than a physician anyway, so just wait.”

He turned his attention back to her injury.

As Riad took her arm and began examining it, Henesstia found herself unable to say anything at all.

It was just… too unfamiliar—having someone care about her injuries.

And the fact that it was the son of the Baron and Baroness of Ingel, the very people who had caused her those injuries, made it all the more surreal.

Soon enough, Riad returned with something from Cedric.

He pulled back her coat and blanket and checked her shoulder again. Henesstia looked down at the things in his hands.

Medicine, a pouch of ice, and a set of clothes—clearly not his own.

Her eyes kept drifting toward the clothes, unable to help her curiosity.

“I’m going to apply the ointment. Try not to let it wash off when you bathe. Unless you like being in pain, I’d suggest taking my warning seriously.”

His teasing, but considerate, tone made Henesstia obediently offer up her arm.

He applied the pungent-smelling salve generously over her shoulder.

While he worked, Henesstia had to calm the storm of thoughts that had swept over her like someone who’d wandered into the wrong path.

She flinched every time his hand touched her skin.

It had felt so warm back on the bed just earlier—but now, his touch was cold, almost unnervingly so.

‘Tch… how can my arm be in worse shape than it was yesterday?’

‘That’s what happens when your parents are the ones responsible for it…’ she muttered bitterly in her mind.

If there was any relief in the situation, it was that she had no other obvious injuries.

There were bruises sometimes, sure—but the Baron and Baroness were always careful not to leave anything visible.

She didn’t want Riad digging too deeply into that part of her past.

She didn’t know if the Baron and Baroness had told him how they’d treated her.

But if they hadn’t, she intended to keep it that way. And if they had… then she’d just have to be more cautious.

As he leaned closer, the sharp scent of leather faded, replaced by something raw and metallic—a nauseating smell of blood, the same one she had caught from Heron when their father passed.

A smell that still hadn’t fully left him.

‘…He said he came here just six days after his victory.’

It was amazing enough that someone could travel all that way so quickly…

But even stranger was the fact that the man who had held a sword in war and led their side to victory was now the one tending to her wounds.

It stirred something unexpected in her chest.

This man—more elusive than any hero in a fairytale—was putting medicine on her with his own hands.

“How is it? Does it hurt?”

“…It’s… fine.”

Even now, she still couldn’t believe it was real.