Citadel of Desire - Chapter 4

Ray had been hiding away for three consecutive days, curled up like a hibernating animal, buried beneath thick blankets. On the first day, Haysh had come knocking, delivering a fiery lecture about how she shouldn’t act so miserably or pitifully, but by the second day, he had given up and stopped visiting altogether.

The servants of this estate were remarkably indifferent. While someone did personally bring her a bowl of watery soup, there was not a hint of care or concern behind it. Perhaps this was why Ray succumbed to her misery so deeply. Her body was fine, but the real problem lay within. Suppressed emotions and festering inner turmoil had finally erupted.

Lady Mary had been assigned to care for Ray. She was the only female servant remaining at the estate and had little to do besides preparing meals. Lady Mary would occasionally stop by to administer Ray’s medicine. Her demeanor was always composed and professional, so Ray assumed today would be no different.

“Is it because of the master?” Mary asked as she gave Ray a dose of fever-reducing medicine.

Ray hesitated briefly before shaking her head weakly.

“No.”

“Really?”

“If I’m being honest, it’s because of me.”

She was hiding, unable to face herself and her pathetic state. But Mary, as if misunderstanding the situation entirely, made a bold guess.

“Perhaps you want to run away.”

“Run away?”

“There’s no need to lie. I saw you with the master. It was… quite intense.”

Mary’s tone seemed mocking, but her expression remained unreadable. Ray began to feel confused.

“Do you not… like the lord?”

“What difference would my feelings make? I’m just a servant here.”

“I met an elderly woman named Della recently, and she gave me a similar impression. She didn’t speak fondly of him either.”

“You met Della? She’s the master’s old nursemaid. Poor thing. Still, considering she’s the only one allowed to go outside freely, she might be the luckiest among us.”

That day, Mary left Ray with a series of cryptic remarks. The next day, however, her demeanor had noticeably changed. She started making small talk about the weather, frequently checked on Ray’s condition, and even tried her hand at lighthearted jokes.

“Someone seems restless.”

“Who?”

“Who else? The man upstairs.”

“The lord?”

“He’s in his prime. You should cut him some slack.”

Ray, who had just been enjoying a refreshing spoonful of sorbet as her fever subsided, set her spoon down. Watching her, Mary scrunched her nose in frustration.

“Ever since you arrived, his temper’s been through the roof. Now that you’ve been avoiding him altogether, it’s only gotten worse. You know all this, don’t you?”

“I think you’re mistaken. Nothing’s happened between me and the lord.”

Pausing her task of tidying up the bed sheets, Mary let out a loud, scoffing laugh.

“Miss, have you ever been with a man before?”

It was out of the question until an engagement was arranged. Ray’s wavering eyes gave her away, and Mary smirked knowingly.

“What kind of man invests in such a foolish endeavor if he’s not interested?”

The conversation, of course, was about Haysh. Everyone in the estate, down to the ants crawling in the cracks, knew about his murky business dealings—an enterprise clouded with filth even murkier than a swamp. Profits were out of the question; it would be a miracle if he managed to recover even his initial investment.

“He gave the funds because he’s your brother. Don’t worry, miss. Our lord has his ways of getting what he’s owed,” Mary said with a reassuring smile.

Ray’s head drooped low.

“Will we be driven out?”

“No.”

The logic seemed absurd, yet Mary just chuckled.

“Quite the opposite, I’d say.”

After that, Mary often indulged in casual chatter about Claudan, the lord of the estate. Most of what she said was mortifying, leaving the faint-hearted Ray blushing furiously.

“I’m telling you, it’s true,” Mary insisted.

“Enough, enough already,” Ray pleaded.

“Tall men tend to be proportional down there as well. The lord’s height is legendary, as you know. Poor miss, you’ll have a hard time handling him.”

“I’m done eating. That’s enough for today.”

“You’ll appreciate it later, trust me. I’ll even bet on it. With that lovely voice of yours, the lord will melt every night, mark my words.”

There was no end to her bold remarks. Left with no choice, Ray pulled the blanket over her head, waiting for Mary to finish her tasks and leave.

“Miss.”

“I’m tired.”

“Don’t think so badly of it all.”

Mary’s tone turned unusually serious, prompting Ray to lower the blanket slightly.

“Of the lord?”

“Think of it as finally finding your match, miss. Accept it as fate.”

Then, suddenly, Mary’s expression crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I won’t be able to come in two days.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Whatever happens, miss, do not leave your room that day.”

“Why not?”

Mary didn’t answer.

It was on the seventh day of Ray’s seclusion.

* * *

It was Ray’s first outing in a long while. She donned a dress embroidered with roses, slipped on her one pair of red shoes, and tied her tangled hair anew three times. She adorned herself with all the best she had.

Her reason for venturing out was simple: to return the storybook to Claudan. She also planned to use it as an excuse to offer him an apology. Since recovering, Claudan had been on her mind constantly, refusing to fade into the background. Her steps felt light, in stark contrast to the days when she seemed to be digging trenches into the ground. Ray crossed the quiet estate and climbed the stairs in no time.

The guilt of having hidden her illiteracy weighed heavily on her. Claudan, too, must have been embarrassed by the misunderstanding. She wanted to apologize and laugh it off together. Days spent recovering had emptied her of many negative feelings, allowing her thoughts to turn optimistic.

But finding Claudan proved difficult. The reticent Philip only shrugged when asked, and the rest of the staff clammed up as if their mouths were sealed. Though this was Claudan’s estate, it was clear that if he didn’t want to be found, there was no point in searching.

After wandering around the third floor, Ray finally sat down in a small chair. The sun was out for a change, casting its light on outdated furniture and a blue-patterned carpet. Stroking the cover of the storybook, Ray’s hair caught the light and gleamed. It was a lazy morning. Growing bored, she flipped through the pages, guessing at the story through its quaint illustrations.

“Ha.”

The sound came from right in front of her—a strained exhalation. Startled, Ray slowly closed the book and pressed her ear to the nearby wall.

“Ugh.”

There was a small metal ring on the wall, identical to the one Claudan had pulled before. Perhaps he was inside. And judging by the sound, he didn’t seem to be in good health. Without hesitation, Ray tugged on the ring.

The door creaked but stopped midway. Something was wedged in the gap—a carelessly discarded bottle of liquor. Ray crouched, removed the obstruction, and slipped inside with ease.

“Ahh.”

The unknown sounds continued, accompanied by a humid warmth that filled the air. The room felt stifling, like swimming through the stagnant water of a summer pond.

“My lord?” Ray called tentatively.

The noises grew louder. Ray’s breath hitched. Her foot nudged a large, white blanket, and beneath it lay Claudan. But she couldn’t process what she was seeing.

Claudan was reclined on a pillow, his hips moving gently. His exposed member was in plain view, thick and unmistakable, grinding against the pillow. Sweat trickled down his arm, half-covered by a disheveled shirt. His slightly parted lips, his glistening back, and his hands gripping the bedding painted a scene both shocking and unrelenting.

Ray froze, rooted to the spot, as Claudan leaned his head back, locked eyes with her, and smirked—a clear, mocking smile. Without hesitation, he began rubbing himself even more fervently, his breaths growing rough as he teetered on the edge of release.

“Ray…”

His voice carried her name as white seed spilled onto his shirt and pillow, some splattering across his bare chest. He took a moment to catch his breath before standing, ignoring the mess. Grabbing a prepared pitcher of water, he splashed his face, the sound of droplets striking the floor oddly clean in the humid air.

Once done, Claudan used the back of his hand to wipe his face and nonchalantly tucked himself back into his trousers.

“Why are you here?”

His tone and gaze were icy. Ray, tongue-tied and flustered, stammered in response.

“I… I came to return this…”

Her hands trembling like leaves, she held out the storybook, her face flushed crimson down to her fingertips.

“Just leave it there.”

Gesturing lazily with a glance, Claudan pointed to a spot with the unlit cigar he was now chewing on. But Ray neither left the book nor retreated. She stood frozen, overwhelmed and rooted to the spot.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my lord,” she finally blurted out.

Claudan bit down harder on the end of his cigar, his expression unchanging.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I saw… and…”

Ray’s voice trembled as she teetered on the edge of tears. Her eyes reddened, a faint pink flush spreading around them. Claudan, his expression devoid of emotion, simply said,

“Just leave.”

It was then that Ray realized—Claudan had lost all affection for her. A girl who couldn’t even read, who had no awareness, and who had now witnessed something so private. It was enough for him to hate her. She swallowed the sob rising in her throat and carefully set the storybook down. Claudan didn’t even glance at her.

“I’m really sorry.”

Ray fled the room, almost tripping over herself. Tears blurred her vision, muffling the sights and sounds around her. She collapsed into the empty hallway, tears spilling down her cheeks as frustration began to rise like a fire in her chest.

He started it.

Ray bit her lip hard and turned back, her emotions swinging wildly between despair and anger with every passing second.

She yanked the door open with force. Claudan, now seated comfortably at his desk, was puffing on a cigar, gazing idly at his empty palm as though Ray hadn’t re-entered. His indifference stung unbearably.

“I’m not the least bit sorry!”

Claudan’s face remained calm, while Ray’s overflowed with misery.

“It’s not my fault that I can’t read!”

His eyes quietly fixed on her, giving no reaction.

“I want to read books, write letters—I want to do all those things. Do you know how much I want that? How humiliating it was that day? And yet today…”

A single tear, as small as a ladybug, fell onto the back of Ray’s hand. Her silent sobs made her look all the more pitiable. Claudan set his cigar aside and walked toward her.

“And yet today, what?”

“Just… today…”

“Why didn’t you come sooner?”

He didn’t ask about her illiteracy. He didn’t care about any of that.

Hesitating, Ray reached out and lightly gripped the edge of his shirt.

“Because I was ashamed. I can’t even read, yet I borrowed books… and lied. Like some foolish fraud.”

“I don’t know about any of that. And I don’t care.”

“Even though I lied?”

“Ray, you and I rolled around together that day.”

Claudan lightly brushed her chin with his thumb.

“And then you didn’t come back the next day. How am I supposed to interpret that?”

Claudan leaned in, close enough that their lips might touch. Ray froze, startled by how firmly he held her face.

“Did you hate it?”

“Did you… wait for me?”

“I asked if you hated it.”

Ray softly shook her head, her tears long dried.

“You don’t hate me? You don’t think I’m stupid or clueless?”

Their lips met urgently, his mouth devouring hers, tongues intertwining as though searching for more. When their lips parted briefly, he sucked at them, impatient for every touch. Ray found herself clutching his wrist to steady herself, her body trembling. Their kisses left her lips soft and tender, a sensation she found herself already longing for.

Claudan seemed to share her feelings. He pressed his lips not only to her mouth but to her cheeks, her chin, savoring every inch of her.

“My lord, wait a moment,” Ray murmured breathlessly.

“No.”

She tried to soothe him with another kiss, but Claudan was relentless.

“My lord, please.”

“I said no.”

“Claudan…”

At the sound of his name, Claudan’s eyes widened slightly, the intensity in his gaze softening. The small pause gave her a moment to smile shyly.

“Claudan.”

“…”

“Will you read to me?”

“I want to do something else.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to reading with you.”

This time, it was Claudan who smiled, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

“You’re… completely…”

He trailed off with a sigh, which Ray found inexplicably sweet. Her lips, now relaxed and gently curved in a smile, made her look utterly radiant. Claudan leaned in to rest his forehead against hers.

“Why are you so beautiful?”

In her entire life, the only person who had ever called her beautiful was Claudan. Not her birth mother, not her foster father, and certainly not her older brother, who only ever scolded her for being ugly.

Ray felt like crying, not from sadness but because of the warmth filling her heart. It was overwhelming.

She liked him—no, she loved him. And in that moment, she thought she always would.