Die Melusine - Chapter 54

“Hmm… I wonder what we should play.”

Melusine stared up at him with her already wide eyes growing even rounder. When she sat on Kieron’s lap—large, solid, and warm—she always felt secure and calm inside. But now, forced into contact with this man who wouldn’t let her go, all she felt was discomfort.

The Emperor’s dark-gray gaze rolled lazily as he examined her, not bothering to hide his intentions. Even if she hadn’t belonged to the Grand Duke, he would’ve been tempted. Her glistening blue eyes, her striking red lips, her delicate, pale skin—and now, the dress that hugged her form, chosen deliberately for how well it would display her.

His fingers traced slowly along the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her shoulders.

How far should I take this game? If it provoked his ever-so-noble uncle, all the better.

But beneath the surface of his mischief, there was calculation. If he crossed a line, how would Kieron react?

He’d brought her to the palace—clearly, she wasn’t just a passing fancy. But then again, it was impossible to imagine Kieron granting meaning to anyone. And if this went wrong and only made him look foolish in the end?

Even the reckless Emperor wasn’t foolish enough to risk his pride for nothing.

“Now then, where did our pretty little fairy come from?”

Her looks were obviously foreign, her behavior untrained, her Imperial speech clumsy. From the moment he’d seen her in the western gardens, he’d been curious about her origins.

“I… I don’t know.”

The Emperor smirked.

“‘Don’t know,’ huh…”

She’d clearly been taught well. So the Grand Duke was hiding something from him.
And the more something’s hidden, the more a man wants to uncover it.

He did want to throw her onto the bed right now.

The image of her running barefoot through the garden, dressed in something that looked more like a negligee than a proper gown, had certainly caught his interest. But if he had to choose, he preferred her like this—elegantly dressed, adorned like a porcelain doll. There was a certain satisfaction in unraveling each carefully arranged layer.

Kieron wouldn’t be back for at least a day or two. He’d arranged for that much, after all. Plenty of time to have his fun and toss her aside when he was done. No one could stop the Emperor from doing as he pleased in his own palace.

And yet… that was the problem.

If the Grand Duke had gone as far as bringing her into the imperial palace himself, it was hard to believe she meant nothing to him. Still, Kieron wasn’t someone who gave weight or meaning to people—not in any way Edvard had ever understood.

What if he miscalculated, and in the end, only made a fool of himself?

Edvard had always lived indulgently, doing whatever he liked—but not carelessly. His entitlement ran to the bone, layered atop years of crafted pride. He didn’t take risks that could undermine his own dignity.

“Well then, where did our pretty little fairy come from?”

Her exotic features, unrefined manners, awkward pronunciation of the imperial tongue—it was obvious she hadn’t been trained in court etiquette. From the moment he’d first seen her in the western gardens, he’d wondered where she was really from.

“I… don’t know.”

“Ahh, you ‘don’t know,’ huh…”

He smiled lopsidedly, intrigued.

She’d clearly been taught to keep silent. So the Grand Duke was hiding something from him. And the more people tried to bury secrets, the more irresistible the urge became to unearth them.

Tap, tap.

He reached out and lightly brushed her lower lip with a finger—just enough to make her flinch.

The look of unease on her face, held down and unable to run, was fascinating in its own way.

This time, Edvard traced the woman’s plump lips with his index finger.

He had forced her to sit down, and now she squirmed in uncertainty, her expression both flustered and fascinating. There was something amusing in her resistance—how lost she looked, trying to figure out what to do.

“Wanna try sucking it? Just once?”

“Huh…?”

She shifted restlessly on his lap, and by now, he was already painfully hard.

The thought of those red lips wrapped around him—just imagining it made him swell even more.

At last, the emperor set Melusine down from his lap.

Relief began to show faintly on her face—but only for a moment. Edvard pressed firmly down on the crown of her head, forcing her to kneel at his feet. The rich fabric of her skirt crumpled beneath her with a soft rustle.

“Why…?”

Her posture awkward and uncertain, Melusine’s blue eyes shimmered with rising unease.

With a metallic click, Edvard loosened the ties of his trousers and reached beneath his underclothes—drawing out his already hardened length.

“Uh…”

A sound escaped Melusine without her realizing it.
The situation unfolding before her eyes was something she hadn’t anticipated at all—her thoughts scrambled in confusion.

There was something unsettling about the way Edvard, without a word, suddenly exposed himself.

Back when she’d mistaken him for a fae, she had even wondered if he might be a woman…
But now, there was no doubt—he was very much a man.

But Melusine had no desire to mate with any man—especially not one who wasn’t Kieron.

Some of her sisters insisted that experiencing different human males helped with conception, but now that she had found Serenhide, she felt no such inclination.

“I don’t want to. I’m not doing it.”

She shook her head firmly and began to rise—only to hear a sharp crack as a hand struck her cheek.

Her face whipped to the side.

What just happened?

She cupped her burning left cheek, stunned, and looked up at the man glaring down at her.

“You’re acting like you’re confused just because I’ve been smiling,” Edvard said coolly.

His mouth still held a grin, but there was nothing warm in his eyes—they were hard, sharp, and filled with threat.

“That wasn’t a request. It was an order. From your emperor.”

He seized her jaw, twisting it roughly as he tried to force her mouth open.

“Nngh—no!”

But she clamped her teeth shut, resisting.

The moment his hand caught her chin, she’d thought he might kiss her—just like Kieron had done that first time.

Edvard couldn’t have cared less what Melusine thought.

He began to tap her reddened cheek with his arousal—sharp, humiliating little slaps. She tried to turn away, to escape, but with her jaw held firmly in his grip, there was nowhere to go.

“This is new,” he murmured with a smirk. “But I can’t deny—it’s entertaining.”

Until now, no woman had ever rejected him. Not once. There had never been something he wanted that he couldn’t have.

Well—maybe there had been one. Estelle von Hesnal.

The woman who had become his uncle’s fiancée, despite all his pleading—ignored time and again by the late emperor himself.

Thinking of the past, of that particular humiliation, only made the woman kneeling stubbornly before him now all the more infuriating.

A woman from who-knows-where, possibly from some barbaric fringe of a forgotten land—and yet here she was, daring to defy the emperor of the empire.

And he could tell—she was doing it because of Kieron.

The old resentment he had long buried began to uncoil in his gut, rising again like a beast roused from slumber.

“Fine then. Forget the mouth,” Edvard muttered.

He abruptly stood, and in one swift motion, stripped off both his trousers and underclothes. Instinctively, Melusine recoiled, shifting backward—until her back bumped into the leg of a nearby tea table.

“I was going to try and take it slow,” he said, voice low and simmering. “But really—what’s the point? If I’m going to take the blame anyway, I might as well get something out of it.”

“Ah!”

Without warning, the emperor grabbed the front of Melusine’s dress and tore it open with brute force.

The ribbon fastenings running down the center ripped apart, exposing the undergarments beneath, still tied to her lace corset. Her chest, now partially bared, revealed a scattering of deep red bruises—marks left behind, like a map of possessive bites and kisses.

“Well, well. Just as I thought,” Edvard sneered. “Looks like someone’s already been marking his territory like a damned animal.”

He cracked his neck to either side with a sharp pop, then slid his tongue slowly over his lips, looming over her like a predator.

“Don’t,” Melusine said firmly. “I mean it. Don’t do this.”

Her voice was clear, stronger than before. Her body trembled faintly, but her eyes—her eyes were steady, unflinching.

“I should thank my uncle,” Edvard sneered. “Haven’t found a woman I liked in a while.”

He grabbed her breasts, still wrapped in thin undergarments, and began kneading them roughly, carelessly. His hands crushed and pushed with no regard, only greed.

Melusine clenched her fists and struck him wherever she could—his chest, arms, face—again and again. But it was useless. Her blows had no weight, and he continued without pause.

When his hand roughly shoved up her skirt and climbed her stockinged thigh, a chill spread through her whole body.

She hated it. No matter who the man was above her—no matter if it meant conceiving a child faster—it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t Kieron, she didn’t want it. Not ever.

Her blue eyes fixed on Edvard, filled with defiance.

Before she could think—before her thoughts could form fully into words—her voice came first.

Not the Vercez she had always sung for Kieron. No, this was something else entirely.

Something unknown, pouring out of her like a spell, a song from somewhere deep and ancient—one she herself had never heard. Neither a lullaby nor a chant, but something raw, like her soul laid bare.

It hurt. A deep, aching anger in her chest. And yet, woven through the fury was something quietly, unbearably sad.

Was this her true heart laid bare? Or had Kieron awakened something in her? Or maybe… was this the protective magic her sisters sometimes spoke of?

Whatever it was—she felt it, suddenly and surely: This song could protect her. She could protect herself.

“You… what… is… this…?”

Edvard clutched his throat, suddenly gasping for air.

The sound of her voice—clear, ethereal, flowing into every corner of the space—was flooding his ears. And though it sounded beautiful, even dreamlike, his chest began to tighten, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His sternum burned. His body twisted in pain.

Was it that new medicine…? A side effect?

His vision blurred. A dull ringing thudded through his skull.

[Leave.]

He had never heard the language before. And yet, he understood it completely.

[Let go.]

He tried to move—but his body no longer obeyed him.

Even when he covered his ears, the song still rang inside his mind. It was as if someone were reaching into his chest and twisting his heart, wringing it dry.

“Stop—please, stop!”

Pain shot through him. Nausea rose in his throat. Was this what it felt like to have your soul pulled from your body?

He had to get away. From her. From that voice.

As Edvard began to rise—barely managing to peel himself off the woman beneath him—a noise broke through the haze in his head.

Raised voices, coming from the hall outside.

“…You can’t! You can’t just barge into His Majesty’s chambers—!”

The imperial chamberlain was struggling with someone—arguing, perhaps trying to block the way.

Even in his barely coherent state, Edvard knew. He knew who was coming.

Of course. Who else?

Still hunched, clutching his stomach, he let out a breathless laugh.

And then—just as Melusine, still shaking, tried to wriggle free from beneath him—

BANG.

The door flew open with a violent crack.

And then came the sound of heavy footsteps—deliberate, unhurried, but filled with weight—striding down the corridor straight toward them.