104.

A ripple of joy spread from her ears. Cardier. Ro couldn’t believe this sudden reunion. Was I asleep? Or had I fallen into some trap causing hallucinations or delusions? Yet the warmth she felt from behind was exactly as she remembered—real, something no falsehood or illusion could mimic. Still, she needed to see him with her own eyes.

As she twisted her body, Cardier quietly released her. The surroundings were dark. He opened a side door hidden behind thickets, clearing a path for her to enter the inner sanctuary.

It felt like dreaming. The garden was tranquil, and except for distant hymns, there was hardly a sound. Under the dim light illuminating the garden, they silently confirmed each other’s presence. Ro cautiously reached out toward his face. He lowered his head like a fierce beast obedient to its master. Her trembling fingertips traced his features.

His eyes, nose, and lips… Ro let herself be swept away by relief, overwhelming joy, and an indescribable emotion swelling inside her like a rising tide. Then he caught her wrist. His dry lips gently bit her fingertips before burying his face into her palm. His slightly sunken cheeks, perhaps from hardship, made his sharp, handsome nose stand out even more against her delicate palm. His cool eyelids closed softly.

Ro almost smiled at his unchanged demeanor and face. He seemed unharmed. Though worn from accumulated fatigue, he appeared physically intact. At that realization, tears threatened to well up. You damn bastard, you wretched man. To be so perfectly alive… Her nose stung.

“You damn bastard…”

She struck his firm chest reproachfully, whispering.

“Being alive… how, how could you stay alive without even contacting me once…?”

“Sorry. Hey? Ro, don’t cry. Please.”

He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, as if soothing a child. Damn it, what was he saying? If word got out that she cried, it would spread across the entire Villbron Strait. She blinked her moist teal eyes rapidly.

“I’ll kill you myself. I’ll really kill you…”

She couldn’t even finish the sentence. Suddenly, the man who had been glaring impatiently for who knew how long crashed his lips onto hers. He kissed her devotedly, like a dog recognizing its master’s voice. Their tongues entwined deeply, as if trying to swallow every breath between them.

His kiss tasted of salt and sand. Probably because dirt clung to his cheeks, now mixed with tears. It was filthy. Coming to her senses abruptly, she tried to pull away, but Cardier’s arm tightened firmly around her back—drawing her closer, preventing her from retreating even slightly.

Damn it, she wished the world would just stop right here. It felt as if the entire universe and all the stars were raining down upon them. A bubbling thrill surged from their locked lips, flowing through her heart and spreading to her fingertips.

His long fingers traced the nape of her neck. The spot he had sucked hard throbbed with a strange ache. Ro recalled how persistently he had behaved in bed. Countless nights they had shared bloomed vividly upon his lips.

Until her pale cheeks flushed deeply with heat.

Eventually, their lips parted with a wet sound. They stared at each other, panting. More precisely, only Ro was panting; he remained composed, his breath steady, his intense gaze unchanged. That was infuriatingly unfair.

Damn it, he looked so delicious under the moonlight. If only they weren’t on a public path, if only this weren’t a sacred temple, she would have devoured him long ago. At this point, she couldn’t tell whether she was relieved he was safe or overwhelmed by the urgency of her desire.

Just as she glared darkly, gripping Cardier’s collar and pulling him down closer, he simultaneously shoved her behind him—and at that moment, footsteps abruptly approached.

“Are you the Marchioness Montrosa?”

It was a young boy dressed in acolyte’s robes. Though they were at a fair distance, the corridor carried the sound clearly. Cardier replied coldly.

“Leave. We’ll enter shortly with the lady.”

“But, Archbishop Ganymedes…”

“Must I say it twice?”

His voice was icy. The young acolyte startled, bowed quickly, and hurried away. The cold gaze that had watched him disappeared, turning back to her—now impossibly soft. The shift was infuriatingly abrupt.

“Wait a moment. Stay right there.”

Cardier swiftly adjusted her clothes. Dust was brushed off, wrinkles smoothed, tangled hair neatly arranged in an instant. He gently urged the dazed Ro.

“All done. But how did you get here? The port should’ve been sealed.”

“This Imperial Princess sent me.”

“…This Imperial Princess?”

“I’ll tell you later. First, tell me your story.”

He frowned, as if her answer were insufficient. Yet, out of habit, he obeyed her command. He tilted his head slightly.

“Where should I begin…?”

“From the beginning. Everything.”

“But we might not have enough time?”

“I don’t care.”

She answered firmly. Now that she had found him, nothing frightened her anymore. Nothing felt scary. He tilted his head and began to speak. Ro absorbed every word like a dry sponge. The ambush, the sudden attack, how he had stayed behind until the very end to ensure the others’ escape…

“There was no other choice. I knew I shouldn’t have, thinking of you—but even if I went back, I’d make the same decision.”

Ro bit her lip hard, then quickly replied.

“I understand.”

“And then everything began to collapse. Washing ashore was pure luck. Locals took me straight to the governor. Then I was immediately imprisoned.”

Ro inhaled sharply. She had suspected it, yet hearing it from his lips brought a fresh wave of shock.

“They seemed to plan either killing me or handing me over to Tilsen. I escaped thanks to his corrupt underlings. Then I came straight here. The archbishop of this temple once owed a debt to my father.”

It was fortunate. Even the emperor’s most formidable forces respected temples as inviolable sanctuaries. She gritted her teeth.

“Damn it… Nick set the trap.”

“No, Ro.”

Cardier shook his head.

“Nick was just a pawn. The trap was set by the Crown Prince.”

“…The Crown Prince.”

Ro instantly recalled the moment at their wedding when the Crown Prince handed Nick a bracelet. Blake’s daughter, rumored to have an affair with Nick; Audrey, the Crown Prince’s fiancée; the Crown Prince himself; and Nick with the bracelet… It was so disgustingly tangled it smelled like rotting cheese.

“Command over a nation’s navy, power enough to move a governor—such authority isn’t common. And if both Admiral Montrosa and Vice Admiral Montrosa were eliminated, the Empire would gain justification for war, and Tilsen could freely use the eastern trade routes. Their interests aligned. The Crown Prince strangely desired war from the very beginning.”

“…”

“I was naive. I thought the Crown Prince would never move against Montrosa—a man who benefited him.”

He laughed bitterly. Ro couldn’t even begin to imagine the time Cardier had endured alone—confirming that his father was injured, his comrades dead, and the nation he trusted had betrayed him.

“So the fact that you’re here… I’m angry, yet… I’m happy.”

Like a sailor barely finding air just before drowning, he buried his face in her neck, not caring that his carefully arranged clothes became disheveled again. His strong fingers dug into her delicate knuckles. He always loved intertwining their hands like this.

“I’d rather die by your hand than any other.”

Cardier murmured wetly, lightly biting her nape.

“I endured everything, thinking only of that.”

* * *

Not taking him in the garden was, perhaps, the last act of self-restraint she could manage. Ro, being a pirate, deeply believed in superstition, and she knew countless tales of people struck by lightning for committing immoral acts in sacred spaces.

Yet it was true—her unresolved desire made it nearly impossible to focus on the archbishop’s words. Seated across from her, her husband bathed in warm, reddish light, looked maddeningly tempting…

“…Ro. Are you listening?”

“…”

“Marchioness?”

“…Ah, yes?”

Ro startled, finally tearing her gaze from Cardier. Archbishop Ganymedes sighed quietly.