Chapter 7
It’s the Moonlight’s Fault!
It’s the moonlight’s fault! Or maybe the starlight? Or could it be that the sound of the valley stream, ringing so crisply in the night air, made my brain stop functioning properly?
Curled up tightly in a blanket inside the tent, I rolled from side to side, searching for some excuse for my reckless, impulsive behavior just moments ago.
What do I do!!!
No matter how I thought about it, it was mortifying. I shot upright, still bundled in the blanket. My face felt like it was on fire.
He’d pulled me up out of the water where I’d been hiding and, after exploding with terrifying fury about whether I had a death wish, the King of Mikrok’s eyes had suddenly gone calm.
Then, as he gazed at me with that deep, moonlit stare, those eyes glittered like black obsidian, absorbing the moonlight itself.
This man is too beautiful.
Entranced by those eyes, I’d watched as his hand came up to cup my cheek. Never in my life had I imagined such a large, rough palm could move with such gentleness.
Droplets from his wet hair slid down over his radiant face, past the strong line of his neck, across his broad shoulders, and down over a chest sculpted into perfect muscle.
The path those droplets traced looked… indecently sensual.
And then his face had slowly lowered toward mine. Even if I’d only ever learned about romance from books, my instincts knew—he was about to kiss me.
But I couldn’t even wait. I’d surged up first and stolen his lips!!!
I’ve lost it, I’ve absolutely lost it! Lea Uzcal, you’ve lost your mind!
I thrashed in embarrassment again, but the shame wouldn’t dissipate.
Then a horrifying thought struck me.
Wait!! Was I actually that kind of person??
I’d always thought that lowering the marchioness and Hailey’s guard with my act—pretending to be a shallow, face-obsessed girl—was just a calculated performance to carry out my mother’s last wish.
But no—I really was a face-connoisseur!
That impulsive kiss had been because of his face!
His sharp nose and jawline shimmered with a silver halo in the moonlight, and his dark-blue eyes, glittering like obsidian… they bewitched me.
And then there were those full, red lips—irresistible.
The contrast of that cold, moonlit face and those red lips was like a bright cherry on top of pure white ice cream. I couldn’t wait for them to descend to mine; I didn’t want to wait even a few seconds.
No, the urge to steal them first overwhelmed me—and I succumbed.
Peck!
It was only a fleeting touch, but who could have guessed that the lips of the man known as the bloodthirsty lunatic of war would be so soft and pleasant?
Haah… just kill me already!
As I was about to smash my ridiculous head into the floor, I remembered his last expression after the kiss.
What was that look?
When he’d lowered his face toward me, his eyes had been dangerously bright—but the instant my lips touched his, he’d flinched, almost startled.
It felt like the spell surrounding us shattered in that moment. My reckless courage vanished like mist, and I’d hastily pulled away from him.
“Haha. Even in summer, staying in the water too long gets chilly. I’ll head back first. Take your time.”
Without giving him a chance to stop me, I’d dashed out of the water, grabbed my outer robe, and ran.
When I glanced back, he was staring intently at his right hand—as if memorizing the lines of his palm.
What, was my kiss worse than his own hand?
Maybe he’d kissed plenty of women before—women who’d stolen those lips from him just as I had. With that face, those lips, how could they have left him alone?
But this had been my first kiss. And to have it treated like… like that—the bitterness hit hard.
The thought that my lips had been ranked lower than his palm made my self-reproach curdle into pure self-loathing.
Flopping back down in the tent after my solo wrestling match with embarrassment, I decided: just sleep.
But as I lay there forcing sleep to come, I suddenly heard loud horse noises outside.
“Miss! Miss Lea!!!”
That voice—Millie! I shot up in surprise.
“Millie? Is it really you?”
Trembling, I hurried outside. And there she was.
Millie’s round face was paler and thinner, with dark circles sinking nearly to her jaw, but it was undeniably my Millie.
Without thinking about who moved first, we clasped hands.
“What happened? How did you get here?”
“I pestered Sir William into letting me come. He was so scary about saying no—it wasn’t easy.”
Her grin told me it was William, not Millie, who’d had the hard time.
Looking around, I spotted him kneeling before the King of Mikrok.
In a loose shirt, the king gave William’s shoulder a casual pat before turning away to start a fire.
“I’ll do it.”
“You set up the tent. I’m tired of sleeping in trees.”
William quickly pitched a new tent. Watching him, I whispered to Millie.
“William looks like he’s got a stubborn streak. How’d you convince him?”
“Oh, that?” She gave a sheepish smile. “Before dawn, I snuck into the stables and stole Vivi.”
“Vivi?”
“Sir William’s horse. I tied her to the ginkgo tree on Laurel Hill and told him I wouldn’t say where she was unless he took me along.”
She’d blackmailed that scary-looking knight—and succeeded! My respect for her grew.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“My back aches and my butt’s sore, but now that I’ve found you, I’m fine.”
Before I could respond, her stomach growled loudly. She clutched it in embarrassment.
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“What? How could they starve you like that!”
She quickly soothed me. “Don’t scold him. He hasn’t eaten either. We rode like mad to get here.”
The hint of loyalty in her tone made me narrow my eyes.
“Is that… are you defending him?”
“Defend him? No way. But honestly, other than Sir Pallet, I didn’t like any knights before. Seeing one so genuinely distressed at being separated from his liege—it made me think, maybe that’s what knightly honor is. I respected it.”
Then, with a serious face, she squeezed my hands.
“I’ll serve you with that same devotion from now on.”
“Oh, Millie.”
I hugged her and patted her back. “Don’t try to do more. You’re already enough.”
Just then, a plate appeared beside us.
William stood there with hot soup, bread, jerky, and a pouch of dried fruit.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. Thank you for bringing Millie.”
He looked away shyly and handed the food to Millie.
“Good job hanging on.”
She nodded meekly, accepting the food.
William returned to the fire and began eating without fuss.
Something was definitely going on between those two… I glanced between them suspiciously, but then caught eyes with the King of Mikrok as he came down from the tree with his blanket.
He paused, stared at me quietly, then walked past into the next tent.
A pang of inexplicable disappointment washed over me. Taking a deep breath, I led Millie into my tent.
Watching her eat so happily calmed me a little.
Yes. I’d forget everything that happened at the stream. I repeated the vow to myself over and over.
Peck. Peck.
In the tent William had set up for him, Mikrok was still haunted by the phantom sound of his lips brushing Lea’s.
Damn it!
It hadn’t been a deep kiss, barely a fleeting touch—but it had his heart racing like some adolescent boy. It was ridiculous.
But other than his mother, the late queen, he had never been so close to a woman’s lips.
Mother. Just thinking of her made his chest ache.
She’d been a princess of the Kingdom of Samal, which bordered Pritan.
Lea was nothing like her. And yet… why did thinking about Lea’s kiss bring her to mind?
His mother had loved her husband deeply but could never defy her father, the King of Samal. And before young Mikrok’s eyes, she’d collapsed, coughing blood.
“Mother!!”
“Mik… Your father must never—never—learn the truth…”
When he was fourteen, she died suddenly from poison. Mikrok alone knew that the Samal royal family—her own kin—had been involved.
Bound by her dying wish, he never told his father. Instead, he sharpened his sword in silence.
The previous King of Pritan, shattered by grief, spent his days hunting demons and monsters. Without preparation, he attacked a dark dragon’s lair and died less than three months after his wife’s death.
A reckless assault. A futile death.
At fifteen, Crown Prince Mikrok Pritan ascended the throne.
Within two years, he invaded the Kingdom of Samal—his mother’s homeland—and slaughtered the king and every royal bearing her same blue eyes.
There had been no hesitation in his blade, no trace of mercy.
