Citadel of Desire - Chapter 3

The stale smell of an old archive, forgotten with the passage of time. The sound of rain hammering the ground as if to torment it. The precise, pendulum-like rhythm of footsteps. These were all sensations Ray had experienced while following Claudan.

They had walked a long way. Passing rows of shelves packed tightly with books, they moved through a corridor lined with dozens of portraits framed in pearls. Along the way, the interior decor became increasingly old-fashioned, mostly featuring patterns that might have been in use at least half a century ago. The colors of the door frames and the plates displayed in the cabinets were no different, as if they had dug up and unearthed a past buried long ago.

“Is it tiring?”

Claudan, walking ahead, asked.

“You’ve slowed down,” he added, waiting for Ray’s response. Ray, who had been distracted by her surroundings, quickly shook her head.

“No, it’s not tiring.”

At that moment, Claudan stopped, and Ray obediently halted as well. The only sound filling the corridor was the rain.

“Come in.”

After briefly meeting her gaze, Claudan pulled a ring attached to the wall. The ring, shaped like five intertwined snake tails, seemed to be a key to open a concealed door disguised as part of the wall.

Claudan entered first, waiting for Ray, who had remained rooted to the spot, to follow. Unable to endure his patience, Ray hurried in after him. The door closed behind them, and they found themselves in a small, windowless room.

One wall was lined with books. Another was filled with bottles of colorful liquids. The rest were covered in heirloom trinkets and dried, withered flowers. It was a space overflowing with collections, with hardly any trace of human habitation.

Only a crumpled blanket in one corner hinted that this was Claudan’s space. The pervasive scent in the room unmistakably belonged to him. Ray inhaled quietly, savoring the faint mix of cigar smoke and the aroma of a boy running freely through fields. She found it intoxicating.

“Do you like it?”

Ray, her eyes wide with wonder, turned to Claudan. He gestured around the room.

“Here?”

“Oh, yes. I like it. It’s beautiful.”

“Come here.”

Claudan gently tugged at the edge of Ray’s sleeve. It was their first physical contact.

“I gathered only the things I love.”

The first item he showed her was an immaculately preserved fairy tale book. The kind of story, centuries old, where a prince cursed by a witch is freed with a sincere kiss.

“Have you read it?”

The title was unreadable. Ray couldn’t bring herself to admit that she was illiterate. So, she simply nodded vaguely and feigned indifference.

“Do you like fairy tales, Lord?”

“Doesn’t seem like you do.”

“Pardon?”

“You didn’t even glance at it.”

Claudan chuckled, stroking the fairy tale book he had picked up.

“Do you think it’s childish?”

Ray’s chest tightened slightly. Claudan was standing so close behind her that his breath ruffled her hair.

“My Lord…”

Claudan’s low murmur brushed against her ear. In that moment, Ray was seized by an impulse. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to smooth the furrow of his brows. She wanted to caress this man who kept unsettling her. But all she managed to do was timidly scratch at the edge of Claudan’s sleeve.

“Read it to me.”

Claudan didn’t reply. He simply allowed himself to be guided wherever Ray led him. Ray settled herself on the crumpled blanket that was Claudan’s. Sitting down, she drew her legs together and let her long skirt drape over her feet.

In Ray’s imagination, Claudan would sit beside her. Instead, he remained stubbornly behind her, creating an awkward arrangement. Ray, seated like a dutiful daughter, leaned against his chest while his strong arms trapped her on either side. The closeness was overwhelming, making her feel foolish and awkward. She didn’t dare swallow or focus her gaze.

“Have you read this before?”

Ray swallowed her words, fearing her voice might crack.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Just… please, read it quickly.”

The book’s cover hadn’t even been opened. Ray felt an unbearable tickle around her neck as Claudan’s nose lightly brushed her skin, lingering for a moment. She began to shrink back, but Claudan grew bolder, letting his cold lips graze her more frequently.

Soon, the fairy tale book was all but forgotten. Ray twisted slightly, attempting to escape, but Claudan only tightened his grip and pulled her closer. His face buried itself in the back of her neck. For a moment, Claudan breathed heavily before grabbing the book with trembling hands.

“I said I’d read it. Stay still.”

“My Lord, this position… it’s uncomfortable.”

“Where?”

“The position…”

“Here?”

With another tug, Claudan pulled Ray so close that her hips brushed against his belt. Neither of them spoke. The sensation of his firm, heavy form pressing against her soft body lingered in the air. Claudan’s movements became almost feral as he rubbed his face into her, his lips planting haphazard kisses while his waist shifted against hers.

Ray’s forehead grew warm. She struggled to deal with the sensation of his lips brushing her cheeks and neck, but Claudan only grew heavier, applying more pressure.

The blanket clung to Ray’s knees as she edged closer to the discarded fairy tale book, now almost lying flat. Claudan still held her waist firmly, grinding his lower body against hers. The room, sealed tight, gradually filled with heat. Ray’s shallow breaths broke the silence, while Claudan’s lips provided a fleeting coolness. His fingers trailed along her waist as if playing a piano, sending shivers through her.

Claudan kissed her everywhere. His particular affection for her golden hair showed as he bit and nibbled at it repeatedly, praising its texture with his actions. Overwhelmed by the tingling sensation, Ray finally surrendered and reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek.

“My Lord…”

The rising heat was suddenly cut short by Philip’s voice, slicing through their shared moment. The old man’s hoarse, sagging tone jolted Ray awake and forced Claudan to pause, his lips stilling against her.

“Haysh Lisburn has returned. He’s waiting for you downstairs.

Outside the sealed room, everything went quiet, though Philip’s presence lingered. He seemed to be waiting for his master’s reply.

“My Lord,” Philip called again.

Claudan had his face pressed gently against Ray’s exposed shoulder. He appeared calm, yet his unfocused eyes betrayed a lingering struggle with his composure. Ray was the first to let go of him.

“Haysh is here,” she said softly.

Claudan’s eyes followed her intently. Her fumbling fingers as she buttoned her dress, the trembling of her lashes, the deliberate smoothing of her wrinkled clothes—he observed it all, unblinking, until she stood. Ray flushed under the intensity of his gaze.

“They’ll come looking for me.”

As if on cue, Philip called out again, this time urging Claudan.

“My Lord, should I let him know that today is inconvenient?”

Claudan raked a hand through his hair, his movement rough and impatient. When he stood, the gesture was equally abrupt.

“Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”

Philip’s retreating footsteps faded, leaving the two of them alone once more. Claudan picked up the discarded fairy tale book, dusted it off, and held it out to Ray.

“I’ll lend it to you.”

She couldn’t read it anyway, but it gave her an excuse to return it later and speak to him again. Ray accepted the book shyly.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go.”

While Claudan had walked ahead of her on the way in, they now walked side by side. The sound of the rain had stopped—it seemed the skies had cleared. The earthy smell of rain-soaked ground had given way to the warm scent of sunlight.

“My Lord, the rain’s stopped,” Ray remarked with a rare bright smile. Claudan’s gaze fixed on her.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s warm.”

“Why do you like warmth?”

“Don’t you, My Lord?”

Ray drifted into a daydream. She imagined radiant sunlight streaming down in vibrant hues, a gentle breeze teasing her beneath the shade, and napping on an unfamiliar lap. These idyllic thoughts shimmered like crystal-clear visions.

“When you nap under warm sunlight, you dream the most wonderful dreams. It’s truly delightful.”

Claudan’s eyes narrowed as he focused solely on her lips as they moved. Meanwhile, Ray found herself staring at his somber, yellow-tinged eyes. Neither of them needed to look ahead; they were completely absorbed in one another.

“Ray?”

The startled voice of Haysh broke the moment. Dressed impeccably, he had just returned and was now staring up at them from the bottom of the stairs. His expression was a mix of irritation and unease. As his jaw tightened, his face turned red with fury.

“Ray, why are you coming down from there?”

“My Lord…” Ray began to answer, but Haysh cut her off.

“What are you doing acting so disrespectfully toward the Lord? Don’t you dare step out of line and ruin things! How dare you, living under someone else’s roof, spout nonsense that could jeopardize everything?”

It was clear Haysh still saw Ray as nothing more than a source of shame.

Claudan, noticing Ray’s shoulders slump, wrapped an arm around her protectively.

“And who exactly is acting disrespectfully right now?” Claudan asked coolly.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I called her because I wanted to lend her a book. Stop making a scene.”

But Haysh’s face only twisted further in indignation.

“A book? For someone who can’t even read a single line?”

Ray thought she could shrug off his words; they felt no sharper than a needle prick. But to her dismay, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Ray, come down at once! Stop spewing lies about the Lord’s kindness!”

It was unbearably humiliating—especially in front of Claudan.

Ray shook off Claudan’s hand and rushed down the stairs, practically leaping over them. She shoved past Haysh, not caring whether he yelled or cursed at her. All that mattered was finding somewhere to hide. She thought she heard insults hurled from behind, but it didn’t matter.

As soon as she reached her room, she flung herself onto the bed and buried her head under the covers. If only this place could turn into a hole in the ground to swallow her up.

Shame, frustration, and heartbreak swirled inside her. She hugged the lone fairy tale book tightly to her chest and began to sob uncontrollably.

She hadn’t been honest with Claudan, but the truth was, she despised fairy tales. In reality, there were no fairy godmothers. The world was filled only with unkind people and endless wounds.