Chapter 14
How long had she slept?
When Dalia finally opened her eyes, it felt as if she had been dead to the world. Her body was lighter, refreshed.
She could have sworn she’d glimpsed the bluish tint of dawn before drifting off, yet the curtains were tightly drawn.
Curious, she padded over to the window and pulled them back—only for the blinding light to stab at her eyes.
“It’s already midday.”
The thought made her almost laugh. After all the chaos of the night before, here she was, stretching lazily on a soft bed as though nothing had happened.
She threw the curtains wide, opened the window, and inhaled deeply of the crisp, fresh air.
After a quick bath, cool water rinsing away the last traces of sleep, a solid sense of reality returned to her.
Unlike in her previous life, she had escaped the Borbon estate in one piece. She had avoided that cursed marriage to Shiray.
‘I’ve broken free from that hellish path at last.’
Her resolve, however, drifted quickly toward the man who had brought her here—Khalid.
“I wonder if he’s even bathed yet?”
The suspicion was one thing. What nagged her more was the thought that she had abandoned a patient she had promised to tend, all while she herself enjoyed such comfort.
It was hard to imagine Aron, that frost-faced butler, rolling up his sleeves to wash Khalid himself.
So was the man still lying there filthy from his time in the forest?
‘Well, a promise is a promise. I’ll help him.’
The memory of Borbon’s plague surfaced. She had once nursed the sick herself, knowing how much a simple cleaning and proper dressing of wounds could improve their chances.
Her father had called it disgraceful for a noblewoman to touch commoners like that. Yet to her, ignoring a life that might be saved was unthinkable.
‘What’s a noble’s dignity compared to a human life?’
Shaking off the memory, Dalia opened the wardrobe. Rows upon rows of clothes greeted her—far finer than anything she had ever owned.
The cut was elegant, the fabric expensive.
But something was strange.
She plucked a dress from the rack and slipped her arm into the sleeve. Even with her entire arm inside, her fingertips didn’t show. The garment swallowed her whole, wide and loose, like a child dressed in her parent’s clothes.
‘This isn’t just large—it’s enormous. Who could possibly fit these, aside from someone built like Khalid?’
And yet—every single one was women’s clothing.
She dropped the dress at once, recalling his insistence the night before:
‘I told you, I don’t desire you.’
Her cheeks burned. She had nearly cut him down for undressing in front of her, when in fact… perhaps he had been telling the truth.
Oddly enough, the thought eased her.
At last she selected a comfortable-looking pair of trousers.
“I’ll wash him, reapply his medicine, and then explore this mansion.”
Resolute, she retraced the route Aaron had shown her the night before.
Along the corridor, a massive tapestry caught her eye.
By daylight, she saw what had been hidden in the shadows—a vast woven image depicting a black dragon. She stepped back several paces just to take it in.
‘So he reveres dragons as well. Just like the royal family.’
In Borbon, the Estaire dynasty worshipped the black dragon as their patron. They claimed its blessing, even though the beast had not shown itself in centuries.
But unlike the grim depictions she had seen before, this dragon’s altar was piled not with human sacrifices but with food and treasure. Worshippers bowed not in terror but in solemn reverence.
“This dragon looks far kinder.”
She reached out and brushed her fingers over the dragon’s woven claw.
“The Divine asked me to pass along greetings to the black dragon… but how am I supposed to deliver a message to a creature I’ve never met? Should I ask Khalid?”
She soon arrived at his chamber. After knocking and receiving no answer, she cautiously entered.
There he was—fast asleep, filthy and bloodstained, exactly as he had been yesterday.
Dalia shook her head. Royalty, yet ambushed in the forest by assassins, cut by her stray blade, and now sleeping without a care in the world…
‘Strange man. And lonely, perhaps, living here with only a single butler.’
Her gaze lingered on his face. His lashes were long and thick, his brows neat, his nose sharp. Even through the grime, he was striking—beautiful, even.
‘Not even the crown prince, famed as the kingdom’s greatest beauty, could rival him.’
If he was not lying, then he was of royal blood in some sense—a bastard son, perhaps. With such a face, surely his name should be known across noble society.
And yet she had never once heard of a “Khalid.”
As she pondered, his lashes fluttered, and his eyes—deep, clear blue—slowly opened.
When his gaze met hers, his lips curved into a soft smile.
“Dalia. Good morning.”
Reaching up, he brushed back the strand of hair that had fallen over her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear.
For a moment, every question she had meant to ask vanished from her mind.
Frozen in place, she could only stare as he studied her.
“Your face doesn’t look at ease… hmm. Are you hungry?”
“What?”
“Well, people ought to eat three meals a day. Aron will be here soon—I’ll tell him to prepare something.”
“N-no, that’s not why I came.”
She scrambled upright, flustered.
“Then why?”
“You asked me to take care of you, didn’t you? I came to help you bathe.”
He blinked, stunned.
“Bathe?”
“Yes. You’re filthy.”
No matter how handsome, dirt was still dirt.
But he seemed more shocked by her offer than her insult.
“You mean… you would bathe me yourself?”
“Yes. I’ve said it three times now. After that we can eat—though at this point it’s hardly breakfast anymore.”
Before he could object, she bustled about, returning moments later with a wheeled tray. A basin of clear water and fresh towels rested upon it.
Khalid sat up, still dazed, revealing the robe he wore. Dalia paused at the sight.
It was identical to the gown she had worn to bed.
Her expression turned odd.
“I see… so that wardrobe full of women’s clothes is yours. No wonder you said you’d never lust after me. I respect your… unique tastes.”
“Wardrobe? I don’t follow.”
“Mm… forget I said anything.”
He denied it, yet she was certain. Every dress in that closet had been far too large for her—and far too perfectly sized for someone like him.
