Chapter 26
Temptation
From the very first meeting, Raid had been cordial toward Ninia. They had exchanged only a few words, yet it was obvious he was of a different sort than the Marquis or Mierne.
When Ninia did not avert her gaze, Raid didn’t look away either. That brief, curious exchange ended before Ninia could even put a name to it.
“It seems His Excellency is running a little late,”
remarked Marquis Billian, looking toward the empty seat at the head of the table. The settings and wineglasses were already laid out for the full party.
The banquet could not begin until the host arrived—but the master of the keep was still absent.
The Marquis betrayed a faint displeasure. Beside him, Mierne spoke up sweetly.
“I can wait as long as needed.”
To stave off boredom, she kept up a stream of light chatter, but time dragged on until even her words petered out.
Silence settled over the hall. Ninia, too, hadn’t expected his absence to stretch on this long.
“I’m starting to worry something might have happened. Perhaps we should send someone to check—”
“No.”
The short denial came from the entrance just as Ninia finished speaking. Everyone turned toward the voice.
“Pardon my lateness.”
Tarahan strode in. A breeze followed him from the doorway, circling the room with a faint scent of leather, leaves, and dust. True to that scent, he wore a light leather cuirass and a black cloak.
It was far from banquet attire. Even as he passed the Marquis and Mierne, the hall remained silent. Ninia was the first to recover.
“You’re here.”
“Yes.”
Tarahan answered calmly as he took his seat. Ninia’s eyes widened—she’d expected to be ignored, but he spoke as if it were the most natural thing.
Perhaps because of the watching eyes, she hid her fluttering heart and called a servant.
“Serve the food.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
With the host finally present, the waiting attendants bustled to bring the first wine and light dishes, filling the empty plates one by one.
Although the party was now complete, the air remained tense, if anything sharper than before.
The Marquis and he can’t be strangers, Ninia thought.
The Empress had done much to block Tarahan’s rise in rank, and the Marquis was always the Empress’s hand. Their relationship could only be bitter.
Only Tarahan seemed perfectly at ease in the continued silence. As he dipped a silver spoon into his soup, the Marquis finally offered a greeting.
“Welcome, Your Excellency. You must have been busy. Forgive me for sitting first—I almost felt like the master of this keep myself.”
“If you could manage it, that might be worth a try.”
The Marquis’s eyebrow twitched. The words sounded casual, even joking, but they pricked at his pride.
Before Tarahan had taken command, it was the Marquis’s judgment that hastened their defeat in the war.
The Emperor had been reluctant to send troops to Danteor, a territory little better than wasteland.
But the Marquis, backed by the Empress, had loudly insisted that the mighty Gilphurs Empire was no match for the goddess-blessed army of Piechen.
He’d been angling for credit while flattering the Empire. In the end the Emperor gave the Marquis first command.
The gathered soldiers and priests froze to death before ever swinging their swords, and the survivors were cut down by the Gilphurs forces.
Leaving the Marquis momentarily speechless, Tarahan continued eating unbothered. Ninia followed his example, lifting her spoon. As she sipped her soup and glanced around—
“I’m Mierne Billian, Your Excellency.”
The bright, bird-like voice tickled everyone’s ears. Tarahan lifted his head to meet her gaze.
Mierne beamed, delighted at the eye contact, but his response was blunt.
“Did I need a concubine to inspect my lands—one who even carries the Marquis’s name?”
He looked toward the Marquis as he spoke. Mierne blinked, her greeting brushed aside.
Trying to smooth things over, the Marquis forced a laugh.
“Ha ha, you misunderstand. I have no daughter; she’s my niece. She accompanied me on this trip. Mierne, greet him again.”
“Yes. I’ve heard many heroic tales about you, Your Excellency. It’s an honor to meet the war hero of Piechen in person.”
Mierne showed no sign of offense. Tarahan’s gaze shifted back to her, a faint smile tugging at his lips as if the subject amused him.
“Heroic tales, hmm. Those victories were my wife’s doing, not mine.”
Ninia set down her spoon, uneasy. Tarahan was watching her.
His crimson eyes grazed her skin like a touch. She hid her reaction, folding her fingers slowly on her lap as heat prickled under her skin. She held her breath, willing herself to endure.
Wife…
The word echoed in her mind—so unexpected from his own lips that she felt dazed.
While she struggled for words, Mierne deftly seized his attention again.
“I’m interested in you, not the holy lady. Women are drawn to strong men’s stories, after all. I’m sure Her Highness feels the same.”
Ninia turned her head at that. Their eyes met, and in that instant Ninia understood the reason behind Mierne’s subtle hostility.
“Oh, that’s right—it’s ‘Your Highness,’ not ‘Holy Lady.’ My apologies.”
And she understood, too, why this beautiful young noblewoman had come all the way to the far northern lands.
“It’s fine,” Ninia answered carelessly, glancing back at Tarahan.
But he didn’t look at her. Their eyes missed each other, and his voice came flat.
“Whatever the Marquis’s niece thinks is none of my concern.”
With that, Tarahan resumed his meal.
The dignitaries from the capital planned to stay in Danteor for about a month. The restless summer had only just begun.
Unlike the first day of their visit, Tarahan now spent more time at the keep.
Contrary to expectations that he would ignore the guests, he even shared a few more meals with the central nobles.
Except when away on outings, his routine hardly varied: at dawn the training grounds and stables, then meetings, and finally seclusion in his office.
His office saw a steady stream of aides and knights, including Jernom, and sometimes local lords or mysterious figures were summoned in.
No one knew what happened inside, but most who entered emerged pale—and only about half managed to walk out steadily.
Ninia learned these details not through any kindness of Tarahan’s, but by other means.
The summer garden had grown lush, grasses thick like a green carpet. While she admired nameless wildflowers, distant voices caught her ear.
“Your Excellency, how can you handle such a big horse so well? It’s so gentle for you, though it’s rough with the grooms… it’s amazing it listens only to you.”
The chirping voice carried to the shade of the trees. Through the leaves Ninia spotted Mierne walking beside Tarahan.
Ninia knew his daily movements largely because of Mierne.
Whenever Tarahan stayed at the keep, Mierne attached herself to his side. If he disappeared, she hounded the servants until she learned where he was.
Even when Tarahan toured the fief with the capital nobles, Mierne went along.
The domain was vast, and the inspections lasted several days. Each time she returned to the keep, Mierne would invite Ninia for tea.
‘Your Highness must already know, but the weather was so lovely and everything so pretty. His Excellency rides a horse magnificently. I’m glad I learned riding—I could at least keep up.’
Mierne barely touched her tea, chattering on, while Ninia simply waited for her to finish and offered a few polite replies.
It was a one-sided conversation: one side wielded a blade, the other received every thrust in silence.
