Die Melusine - Chapter 66

Melusine stood on the balcony for quite a while, gazing at the sky now just veiled in twilight. The blood-colored sunset blazing more vividly than usual left a heavy ache in her chest.

She couldn’t understand why Ian and the other attendants were so adamant about stopping her. She didn’t understand why the idea of going directly to Kieron to warn him of the danger wasn’t being accepted. Most of all, Melusine couldn’t fully grasp the reasons they tried to explain. But the conclusion was clear: she was to stay quietly in this room.

Melusine wasn’t unaware of the truth. There was nothing she could realistically do here. Even if she tried to go to where Kieron was—at the Emperor’s palace—she wouldn’t be able to get there properly on her own. And even if by some miracle she did, she would never make it past the attendants to reach where he was.

But doing nothing—just waiting blankly like this—made it impossible to control the violent thumping of her heart. She knew Kieron was stronger than anyone. As Ian had said, even if he ate that kind of fish, he might very well be fine.

Still…

She couldn’t forget the night when so many of her sisters had died. The memory of all those tail fins, frozen stiff, bobbing at the surface of the sea and shimmering eerily under the moonlight… The sight of a sister who had eaten first on her behalf, whose eyes turned bloodshot, face turned blue, and finally stopped breathing…

The memory triggered instantly when she saw that small yellow fish’s fin.

And now, that man had filled not just her mind, but her entire heart.

Melusine’s room was on the second floor of the west wing. If she stepped out onto the balcony and leaned her head out slightly, she could just see the small fountain at the entrance to the garden where she’d first encountered the Emperor.

As twilight deepened and the fountain’s water arced silently in the growing darkness, Melusine clenched her fists tightly.

“Anne, I… I’d like to take a bath.”

There was a faint tremor in her voice that Anne didn’t quite catch.

“Oh! Then I’ll go prepare the bathwater right away. Just a moment, please?”

Melusine, unlike usual, didn’t turn to look at Anne or offer her usual bright smile in return for the kind tone. Because this was the first time she had told a lie—one that wasn’t the least bit honest.

She never intended to bathe.

Melusine waited a little until Anne disappeared into the bath chamber. Then, she quietly climbed over the balcony.

As she dangled precariously from the railing and looked down, fear swept over her. But she clenched her teeth.

From a quick glance, it looked about the same height as the cottage from the other day. She remembered the feeling of the thick, soft grass under her when she’d fallen on her butt in the garden near the Emperor. It hadn’t hurt at all.

She could do this.

Melusine opened her eyes wide instead of closing them. She searched for a good spot to land.

She had to go to Kieron. She had to tell him. That it was dangerous. That he might die.

Even if she wasn’t any help, she wanted to go. No—she had to go.

He was the most meaningful person to her now. The owner of her heart. Her Sérenhide.

***

The banquet lasted later than usual.

In the carriage returning to the western wing, Kieron leaned deep into the seat back with a low sigh. As expected, the emperor—drunk on wine and drugs—kept dragging things out with absurd jokes and pointless topics.

He had always been a lonely boy, even as a child. He couldn’t even eat properly unless someone was with him, and would often throw tantrums, refusing food until Kieron finished his training.

More than twenty years had passed, yet Edvard seemed not to have grown at all from the puppy-like boy who used to trail after him.

My fish—Melusine—I wonder how she’s doing.

Kieron muttered under his breath, gazing through the small carriage window at the moon that had just begun to dip. It was almost laughable for someone who always preferred speaking plainly to be riding in a carriage alone like this. But there was no helping it.

From the moment the unfamiliar fish was served, he had been suspicious. A dish featuring yellow tail fins, paired with a sauce made from roe—it all seemed far too deliberate.

At first, a few bites were fine. But after eating a little more with the sauce, a stiffness crept into the back of his neck. His chest began to ache, and breathing became uncomfortable.

To think the emperor would host a farewell banquet and serve poisoned food right to his face.
Like father, like son, he supposed.

Whatever Edvard had been expecting, the moment he realized Kieron wasn’t collapsing, just slightly pale and entirely composed, he seemed disappointed. After dessert and whiskey, having failed to provoke any collapse or outrage, the emperor eventually drank the rest of his liquor and stormed off to his chamber without a word.

Kieron rubbed his temple firmly. He was tired.

Maybe holding that woman again would help ease this blooming headache. He should call for a physician to neutralize the poison—nothing complicated—but even before that, she came to mind. So it must really have been poison.

Was that why? A salty sea breeze wafted in through the open window. It felt almost like Melusine was right beside him….

“Stop the carriage.”

His voice, rough and cracked, rang through the cabin.

“P-Pardon?”

The palace coachman’s anxious voice came from the front.

They were still some distance from the western wing. The quiet path, flanked by fir trees, held no trace of other people or anything unusual.

“Stop. Immediately.”

Kieron’s tone was grave. With a whinny and abrupt halt, the carriage came to a stop.

“Wait here until I return.”

“Y-Yes, Your Grace!”

The coachman bowed his head, confused, and could only watch helplessly as the duke strode into the trees.

Before his coming-of-age, the imperial palace had been Kieron’s home too.
Even if the grounds were vast enough to rival a city, there wasn’t a single part he didn’t know by heart.

Following the forest trail down and veering left would lead to the western wing’s rear garden.

It reminded him of when the crown prince, still a boy, used to sneak through here to visit him in the training yard.

If his instincts were right, then somewhere around here—

Cold wind brushed against the hardened skin of his cheek.
There was a familiar scent mixed into it.

Faint enough that no one else would have noticed—but a man who held that body night after night, tangled with hers so completely—Kieron could not fail to know it.

“Foolish…”

He muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw, and turned his body toward where the wind was coming from. Not far ahead, a pale, wavering figure caught his eye.

Pink-tinged long hair. A small, slender body. Struggling footsteps.

Melusine.

Amid the towering, sharply grown trees, a woman who looked most out of place was moving, glancing around frantically as she stumbled forward.
She was alone.

Kieron instinctively reached for his sword, then pulled back. He debated whether to run up and seize her immediately, licking his dry lips in frustration. Was she trying to run away again?

His heart clenched with a dull scrape. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the poison, but a strange unease and sense of danger crawled up his spine and into his skull. No, that probably wasn’t it.

This was the imperial palace. There wasn’t even a glimpse of the sea, and it was a place deeply unfamiliar to her. Even if they were back at that old seaside villa, Kieron now knew—she wouldn’t run so easily.

Still, with her body already weakened, unable to regulate its temperature properly… what on earth was she trying to do?

What were Ian and the other attendants even doing? His headache worsened. He needed to retrieve her now.

Just as he began walking toward the girl, the faint figure—barely more than a blur—suddenly stopped.

Like a crashing wave that suddenly calms upon reaching shore.

[Kieron.]

She raised her head.
Even though she was at a distance where one could barely hear someone shouting, it didn’t feel like she had spoken aloud.

[Kieron.]

Her voice—high and delicate—pierced the space like wind or song, slipping through the gaps in the air and wrapping tightly around him. Despite the impossibility, the sound of crashing waves began to echo somewhere.

They surged, threatening to swallow him whole. Rushing in before he could escape, they flooded deeper and deeper inside.

[Kieron.]

His name felt unfamiliar for the first time. Or perhaps… it was the first time it had ever been spoken properly.

Who ran to whom first—whether it was she who came running, or he who ran to her—he couldn’t remember.

By the time he came to his senses, Melusine was already in his arms. As if she had always belonged there.

She was gasping for breath, struggling to hold herself together.

“Kie… ron… fina… lly… found…”

With each word she forced out, frosty breath escaped her trembling lips.

The fading light of late autumn in the fir forest was biting cold. Melusine, wearing only her thin indoor clothes, was freezing. Kieron unbuttoned his shirt, pulled her bare body tightly against his own, and wrapped them both in his jacket, coat, and cloak—layer upon layer.

Even in her state, Melusine reached out a shaking hand and cupped his cheek.

“Are… you okay…? Fish… don’t… eat… it. Hurts… you… die…”

Her hands were freezing to the touch, yet his face burned like it had been scorched.

Don’t eat it. You’ll die… What nonsense was she babbling?

Then, the memory of the emperor’s banquet flashed through Kieron’s mind.

“No way… is this why you did all this?”

He pulled her hands away from his face and gripped them tightly in one of his own.

“Melusine, I’m asking you. Did you come all the way here… just because of a poisoned fish?”

His voice was as sharp and honed as a well-forged blade.