Die Melusine - Chapter 64

The second visit to the emperor’s drawing room.

Melusine kept fidgeting nervously, trying to hide behind Kieron’s back.

Even though she knew nothing would happen as long as she was with him, her heart pounded just from staring at the gilded, embroidered velvet sofa.

Not even when that fat man whipped her without reason had she felt like this.

She couldn’t forget the chill that ran down her spine when the emperor’s pitch-black eyes bore down on her like storm clouds.

Kieron pulled her more firmly into the shelter of his cloak and clenched his teeth. Perhaps he should have spilled some blood that day, after all.

He’d intended to ignore the summons. But when the emperor invoked Vercez, he couldn’t refuse. He hadn’t wanted Melusine to face that man again—ever.

“Oho! Uncle!”

Draped in the emperor’s signature violet cloak and with his shirt half-buttoned, Edvard strolled toward them. He opened his arms in mock welcome, but when Kieron gave no response, his expression quickly shifted back to its usual flippant mask.

“I hear you’re returning to the Grand Duchy soon?”

His eyes, unashamed and unrelenting, were fixed solely on Melusine.

Hmph. Kieron let out a low sigh.

“That’s correct.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye, then.”

“I am honored.”

There wasn’t the faintest emotion in Kieron’s voice. Just cold formality.

That bothered Edvard more than he expected. Even when Kieron was just Crown Prince, and even now that he was emperor, the man had never once crossed the strict line between subject and sovereign.

Except that once.

The one time he broke that rule. And now here he was, pretending it never happened—masking himself once again as the perfectly loyal vassal. It was infuriating.

So Edvard smirked and said, with a hint of venom,

“Oh, by the way, Uncle. The gift you sent was fine… but there’s one more thing I’d like.”

When he flicked out his tongue and licked his upper lip, Melusine flinched instinctively.

Kieron tightened his hand over her shoulder.

The emperor caught the motion—and looked displeased.

“If you tell me, I will try to obtain it.”

That face—so calm, so collected. That’s what Edvard hated most. Even after what happened, he couldn’t break him. But that crack… the fissure in the stone… he had seen it. And he wanted to see it again. That’s why he’d summoned them.

“I knew it. My loyal uncle never disappoints. I’m moved, really. Then… how about this? Catch me a mermaid as a gift.”

The emperor smiled wide, like he was just playing a game.

Kieron’s brows drew sharply together.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

That, from Kieron, was a reaction.

Even that subtle movement in his dark, furrowed brows was a rarity—and Edvard grinned wider.

“Isn’t Triton’s waters near the legendary Vercez? You sail out all the time—surely you’ve come across one? Just one?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, come on, Uncle. Don’t be so cold.”

The emperor chuckled.

Kieron resisted the sudden urge to punch the monarch square in the face.

“Legends are just that. Legends.”

His voice dropped a full octave—quiet and lethal.

Edvard leaned in slightly, intrigued. The surface was calm, but something beneath it was beginning to break.

Estelle hadn’t been wrong, it seemed.

“Then how about… that woman instead?”

A spark ignited. It was fleeting, but it was there—in Kieron’s eyes. For a man usually so poised, so unreachable… Edvard had never felt such a thrill. And he wasn’t about to stop now.

“I mean, it’s not like you plan to keep her around for long, right—?”

“Your Majesty.”

It was just his name—nothing more. But Kieron’s voice landed with a weight that crushed the air between them.

That was how his uncle had always been.

He was never warm. Never lavished him with empty words like the other nobles. But he had always been there. Silently helping. Teaching.

It was Kieron who sparred with him in the courtyard when he was a boy, overwhelmed by endless lessons. It was Kieron who saved his life during his first—and only—campaign. It was Kieron who he relied on more than his father, the late emperor, who only ever berated him. And it was Kieron who he resented, because of how the emperor once said, “At least try to follow in your uncle’s footsteps.”

Through Kieron, Edvard had learned: love and hate often reside in the same place.

“I think it’s time you stepped out of the shadows,” Kieron said quietly.

“Sh-shadows?”

He bristled instantly, like someone who’d had his most sensitive wound exposed.

Of course Edvard knew. His father—the late emperor—was a sun-like ruler. A powerful monarch. Not everyone liked him, perhaps, but they all revered him.

Compared to that, Edvard—timid, insecure—knew exactly what people whispered behind his back.

“So what, you’re saying I’m still just some half-baked emperor stuck in my father’s shadow?”

He shot to his feet, his voice rising in fury.

“No,” Kieron replied evenly. “I meant mine. Step out from my shadow.”

And stop coveting what is mine.

His gaze was cold, sharp, unflinching. The words lodged like knives in Edvard’s chest.

A shiver ran through him, slipping under the open front of his carelessly buttoned shirt.
His stomach churned with nausea.

He had known—suspected—that Kieron could see everything. But he didn’t know he could be stripped bare so easily.

It had always been unbearable. To stand between two suns—the former emperor and this man. No matter how hard he tried, he was never praised. Never chosen. Even when he finally ascended the throne, he was haunted by the fear that his more capable uncle might take it away.

And yet, even then… he desperately wanted Kieron closer.

Did Kieron know all of this?

“Wh… what are you…”

Edvard bit down on his lip.

Across from him, Kieron quietly rose to his feet.

The height difference was more pronounced than he remembered. He looked up—and trembled, unsure how to respond. Emotion had betrayed him. He had already lost this encounter.

No—he had lost from the moment he was born.

“You must accept that you will never be like your father,” Kieron said. “Or like me.”

Edvard clenched his fists, trembling.

He wanted to punch his uncle square in the face. But that was a fight he could never win.

He swallowed the burn in his throat.

“Hah! Our noble Grand Duke. The great uncle who won’t even grant his nephew a single small wish…”

He flopped dramatically onto the sofa, waving his arms in mocking circles.

“If it’s so delicious you just want to keep it to yourself, why not say so? That’s your problem, Uncle. You’re never honest.”

He covered his eyes with the back of one hand.

“Enough. Go on, get out.”

He waved a dismissive hand.

Kieron, with Melusine still held close under his cloak, turned and left without a word.

“Hey!” Edvard called after them, his voice echoing through the chamber. “If you do catch a mermaid—tell me! Or I’ll come catch one myself!”

Whether it was wounded pride or simple refusal to give up, the emperor’s shouting echoed behind them as they walked away. A last-ditch tantrum hurled at their backs.

As they rode in the palace carriage from the main residence where the emperor lived back to their quarters in the western wing, Melusine finally broke the long silence with a quiet remark.

“…I think the emperor… likes you.”

“What?”

Kieron turned toward her, brows slightly raised. After all the man had said—demanding a mermaid, ordering Melusine to be handed over—how had that been her takeaway?

He gazed down at her, curious, as his long fingers softly brushed her cheek.

“It just… felt like he wanted your attention. Like he wanted to be liked by you.”

Of course she’d think like that.

Her observation amused him enough to draw a quiet chuckle from his lips.

“Then maybe you should like him for me. He clearly wants someone to.”

“Huh? No! I don’t—! That’s not what I meant! I… don’t want to…!”

As always, whatever Melusine had really meant to say didn’t quite come through to him.

At first, she thought it was just because she wasn’t fluent in the Empire’s language yet. That if she studied more, got better at speaking, maybe she’d understand him better—and he’d understand her.

But it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just about words.

And besides, Kieron never really gave her the chance to speak in full anyway.

In an instant, his lips pressed over hers, silencing her mid-sentence. Their breaths mingled—hers escaping in shallow bursts, swallowed by his mouth and returned again.

He was the one who told her to learn. To practice speaking. But in the end, it was clear—he preferred her voice not in words… but in sighs.

As their tongues intertwined, Kieron’s hand slipped under Melusine’s skirt with practiced ease, his touch anything but patient.

His fingers moved quickly over the silk stockings, seeking skin through the many layers—petticoats, undergarments—all the formal trappings required by palace etiquette.

A sharp curse slipped from Kieron’s lips, only to be swallowed by her mouth.

He was already unbearably hard, but the sheer number of barriers between them had him growling in frustration.

When Melusine wordlessly spread her legs to make it easier for him, he clicked his tongue against hers.

So this is how she’s going to be…

Fine.

If she was going to act this eager, this brazen, then he’d just have to take her as thoroughly as he pleased—until she was begging him to stop.