He let out a hollow laugh. I rose on my toes, bringing his face closer, and pressed my lips to his like a stamp before pulling back.
“Yes, very much.”
“Damn it, toy with me forever!”
He devoured my lips hungrily, his tongue eagerly exploring. The wet sounds of our kiss lingered for a while.
“Haa!”
Our lips parted, and we both gasped for breath in unison.
“I don’t want to leave.”
He tightened his hold, mumbling. Unlike me, he couldn’t stay away long. I patted his back soothingly.
“People will come looking for you.”
“One more kiss, and I’ll go quietly.”
He puckered his lips, closing his eyes. I gave him a playful, smacking kiss, like one for a child. He opened his eyes, dissatisfied.
“Not a peck—a real kiss.”
This time, he kept his eyes open, lips extended. Laughing, I leaned in. His eyes crinkled as I neared.
Our lips met, and I closed my eyes. Our tongues entwined again, a pleasant hum vibrating from him. As we parted, he grazed my earlobe with his teeth.
“So, what did you talk about with the marquis?”
“…”
He was surprisingly persistent.
Act 20: Tremors
“Too few allies.”
The few pages in my hand rustled. I’d read them enough to memorize the contents.
Even with the Pison Trading Company’s network, information on the Black Priests was scarce. All I knew was they always appeared at the emperor’s coronation.
“Looks like I’ll have to target the emperor…”
I tapped the desk rhythmically with my fingers, the steady sound calming my tangled thoughts.
“He won’t talk easily.”
The Black Priests were a closely guarded secret, under the emperor’s sole authority. I’d subtly probed several times, but he always deflected.
“Should I ask directly?”
No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn’t find a way to make him talk. I wondered if Sys, as crown prince, might know something, but I shook my head.
If the emperor had ordered silence, Sys wouldn’t speak, no matter how open he was with me. He was strict about duty.
I touched my cheek, recalling the chilling sensation.
“Was it really a dream?”
Everyone in the meeting room—Father, Sys, and the others—gave the same story: the Black Priests vanished, and I stood staring at the spot for a while.
Yet the androgynous voice and icy touch felt so vivid, I couldn’t be sure.
“In this life, may you have no regrets…”
This life.
What did the Black Priest mean by that?
“No way!”
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Even a Black Priest couldn’t know who I truly was. I didn’t even know if it was a dream or another life.
“They can’t know.”
An inexplicable unease chilled my chest. The fact that I hadn’t heard the priest’s full words gnawed at me.
“What were they trying to say?”
I listed sentences starting with “my.” The first thing that came to mind was Sys’s pet name for me.
“My Bee.”
I shook my head again. A Black Priest wouldn’t call me that.
I’d met them only twice: at my coronation as empress and recently, proving my lineage. It couldn’t be that.
I racked my brain for other phrases starting with “my,” but nothing fit. The more I thought, the worse my headache grew.
“Haa.”
I exhaled heavily, trying to release the tension. The headache persisted. I opened the desk drawer for my usual painkillers.
“Already out?”
The spot where I kept them was empty. Recent events must’ve depleted them faster than usual. Giving up, I pressed my throbbing temples.
Lately, headaches had become a habit. My physician advised against relying on pills, but without them, the pain wouldn’t subside.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Reclining with my eyes closed, I straightened at the sound.
“Miss, something terrible has happened!”
The butler rushed in, his face frantic—something I hadn’t seen since Mother’s passing. A bad feeling hit me.
“What is it?”
“The First Prince has died.”
“…!”
I shot up, the chair clattering to the floor. I was too stunned to notice.
“How!”
“I don’t know the details. The head of the Pison Trading Company and Countess Pison are in the parlor.”
Forgetting noble decorum, I sprinted to the parlor, skirts flying. Servants stared, startled, but I had no time for them.
Bang!
“What’s going on!”
I flung open the parlor door. Evan and Anasha stood, faces grim.
“The First Prince is dead?”
“We just heard the news,” Evan said.
“We came as soon as we did,” Anasha added.
I’d hoped it was a mistake, but their reactions confirmed it.
“Sit, let’s talk.”
Calming myself, I urged them to sit. The butler, following me, discreetly dismissed the servants.
“Why would he die? He was quietly staying in his territory. Explain.”
Confined to his northern estate by the emperor’s orders, the First Prince had kept a low profile, aware of the eyes on him. He had no chronic illnesses and was healthier than most nobles his age. His sudden death was unthinkable.
“Not suicide, then an accident?”
If he’d wanted to die, he’d have done it when dragged to the north. The First Prince was proud—more likely to plot revenge than take his own life.
“Murder,” Evan said.
“…!”
My worst fears were confirmed. Murder was the worst possible outcome.
“How?”
“Poison.”
A groan escaped me at Evan’s answer.
“Does the palace know?”
“They likely learned around the same time we did,” Evan replied.
“This isn’t good.”
Evan and Anasha nodded in unison.
Though stripped of succession rights and exiled, the First Prince was second only to Sys in line for the throne. His murder, after being overshadowed by Sys, pointed to one conclusion.
Sys…
Someone was targeting him. Regardless of the truth, to others, Sys had ample motive. With a few pieces of evidence, he’d be trapped.
“Have you identified the culprit?”
“We’re still investigating,” Evan said.
“Find out as quickly as possible—before the palace does.”
“Understood.”
We needed more information. Who killed the First Prince, and why? I wouldn’t rest until we knew and prepared.
Cold sweat dampened my palms. I clenched my skirt, crumpling it, but didn’t care.
“What kind of poison?”
“We couldn’t access the body, so we don’t know. I’m sorry.”
