Chapter 65

The whole world was shrouded in darkness that night. Ellen buried her face in the pillow and cried silently so no one would hear. After hearing that Lennox had been gravely injured, she tried to rush to him at once. However, the servants ordered by Viscount Valère seized her and prevented her from leaving the mansion. When she confronted her father, she only received a slap and was locked in her room. Servants guarded Ellen’s door, and no one except Emma could enter.

Ellen stifled her sobs, afraid the servants might overhear. When her crying subsided, she raised her head. With eyes swollen and red, Ellen stared out the window, then slowly rose to her feet.

Her long, pale nightgown dragged softly across the floor. Faint as if she might vanish at any moment, Ellen walked like a ghost toward the moonlit window. Her dry fingers gripped the window frame and opened it. Looking across the garden, where luminous stones glowed here and there, Ellen’s gaze habitually drifted to the spot just below the window.

‘The place where Lennox always stood… where he looked at me…’

Ellen knelt at that spot, resting her head on her arms, and traced the outline of Lennox’s phantom as if greeting him, gently waving her other hand.

“Hello, Lennox. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

From Ellen’s dry and cracked lips, his name came out, filled with parched longing. If she spoke any louder, her lips might split and bleed with stinging pain. If he appeared, it would be a bittersweet ache that would quickly disappear. Just saying his name brought the tiniest comfort. Ellen smiled faintly.

“Why did you come so late? Are you hurt?”

Staring at the phantom of Lennox, who had always looked up at her from that spot, Ellen bit her lower lip lightly. Blood from her cracked lip stained her white teeth red.

“Lennox. I missed you.”

She tasted the metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

“You know, I was actually lonely.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“But what’s even harder is knowing you’re hurt. It’s agony.”

Ellen’s head slowly drooped.

“Honestly, I’m not okay at all. I’m still lonely, and I need you…”

Ellen buried her head in her arms. Whenever she spoke like this or felt pain or loneliness, Lennox would magically come to her side and comfort her. So Ellen believed it would happen again this time. If she cried, he would come. That was what she thought. But he didn’t appear.

“Hurry back, Lennox…”

Her weak voice melted into the moonlight and disappeared, leaving no trace. Ellen longed for Lennox on that cruelly bright moonlit night. The moon hid itself behind a white cloud. The darkness swallowed even the trembling of her small shoulders.

* * *

When Viscount Valère’s anger subsided, Ellen was allowed out of her room.

Once freed, Ellen constantly called for Jack. Her thirst was overwhelming. Whether the news was good or bad, if she didn’t hear from Lennox, she felt she’d wither away and die from thirst. She summoned Jack almost every day, feeling she might go mad if she didn’t. Even so, every time, Jack brought only bad news: after being badly injured, Lennox had faced more crises, received more wounds, and nearly lost his head.

Ellen listened to these agonizing reports, feeling as if all the blood was draining from her body, and spoke calmly.

“I’ll send a physician. To Sir Lennon…”

Her hands, hidden under her voluminous skirt, were already cold and pale. Jack shook his head firmly.

“Oh no, that won’t do. The battle zone is now so chaotic that it’s impossible to tell friend from foe. I’ve managed to bring news only because I’m familiar with the area, but even that is getting difficult.”

“Jack. Please, try a little harder. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“The situation is very bad. I’ll do my best, but don’t expect too much.”

“…”

Ellen bit her lip and clenched her fists. After Jack left, Ellen immediately arranged another tea time. She couldn’t believe Lennox was so badly hurt. She gathered the quickest and most talkative ladies again to confirm whether Jack’s words were true.

She desperately hoped they would deny such rumors.

The ladies didn’t name anyone, but they worried about a talented young knight who had been injured, and whether the enemy might reach even this far because of the battle.

After holding herself together through tea time, Ellen slumped into her chair, not even remembering how she’d gotten home. Her insides burned.

“Emma. Bring me cold tea.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

After Emma left, Ellen suddenly found it hard to breathe. She clutched her chest, bent over, and let out a deep sigh. She gasped several times, but the tightness in her chest wouldn’t ease—it only grew worse.

It had been well over two months since Lennox left for the conflict zone.

Not a single letter had come from Lennox in all that time. Was it so serious he couldn’t even write? Instead of anger, Ellen’s worry grew day by day, suffocating her heart and lungs.

“My Lady! Are you all right?”

Emma, carrying the tea, was startled by Ellen’s poor condition and asked anxiously. Ellen shook her head, signaling Emma not to come closer.

“I’m fine. I want to be alone. Please leave.”

“But, My Lady, you don’t look well. Should I call a physician?”

“I’m fine.”

“My Lady, I really think—at least let me call—”

“Emma!”

Ellen snapped irritably. Emma swallowed her breath and froze. Ellen, her voice calmer, said,

“Please leave.”

Emma, looking both upset and concerned, nodded and left. As the door closed, Ellen let out a ragged sigh. After finally sending Emma away, she suddenly felt a terrible thirst. She fumbled for the cold tea and drank a gulp.

“…!”

Just as she swallowed, the tea came back up with stomach acid. Ellen quickly covered her mouth with a handkerchief. The clean cloth was soaked with tea and bile. Ellen stared blankly at the wet handkerchief, which had drenched her hand. Something hot and uncontrollable burst from deep inside her. Ellen squeezed the handkerchief tightly.

“Hrk.”

For the first time since Lennox left for the conflict zone, Ellen cried out loud. Once it started, her sobs grew into wailing. Her green dress became soaked and discolored by the constant stream of tears.

Unlike when she cried quietly, this time something blocked her throat and she couldn’t make a sound, only sobbing silently. Ellen mouthed words over and over, but only pent-up sobs clogged her throat. At last, she forced out the most desperate wish she had been holding back, mixed with her tears.

“…I miss you… Lennox.”

She missed Lennox more desperately than ever. She felt as if he might walk through the door and smile at her at any moment, but he didn’t return. The Lennox who used to greet her every morning and evening was no longer in the mansion. The Lennox who helped her dress and secretly shared love was no longer by her side. She missed his face, his voice, his warmth so much it hurt.

‘When I was little, I thought this loneliness was normal.’

But it wasn’t. The child simply accepted loneliness to survive and craved affection. Lennox had always been there for her since she was ten. My playmate Lennox. My friend Lennox. My support Lennox. My…

‘Beloved Lennox…’

Ellen had to endure for him. No, she tried to endure. She had to. But—

“I’m sorry… Lennox. I…”

‘I can’t do it anymore. If only I could save you.’

A crooked smile twisted one corner of Ellen’s tear-stained mouth.

‘Father. You win.’

* * *

Before breakfast, Viscount Valère silently watched Ellen, who had come to see him at dawn. Dressed neatly and without a wrinkle, Viscount Valère’s gaze was perfectly calm as he looked at her. Ellen gripped her skirt with dry hands and looked at him, her voice rasping between her lips.

“I have something to ask.”

“What is it?”

“This marriage… If I refuse to the end, will you keep sending Sir Lennon to the battlefield?”

“Keep sending? Mind your words. I am simply proving my loyalty to the kingdom. Sir Lennon is a knight, so it’s only right that he fights for the kingdom, isn’t it?”

Ellen’s hollow eyes, dry as a desert, filled with loathing. What a vile man.

“If I accept this marriage…”

“I’ll call him back. His Majesty the King is also fond of Sir Lennon, and doesn’t like sending him to expendable battles.”

“…I understand.”

Viscount Valère tilted his chin and smiled. It was revolting. She needed to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. They just rolled around in her mouth like tough meat. After hesitating for a long time, Ellen finally forced herself to say the words she least wanted to say—the words she would regret and grieve the moment she spoke—the words her father most wanted to hear.