“Commander! What’s going on…”
“Everyone’s asleep, so don’t make a commotion. I’ll let him sleep in my tent.”
Lorea looked with worried eyes at the tuft of hair sticking out from between the blanket. Limp and motionless, it looked just like a corpse.
I hope he’s not dead. Thinking about the consequences that would follow if that prince died already made the back of his head ache. It seemed Evernight felt the same way.
“Lorea, please take over the watch for me.”
Lorea nodded without protest. Evernight soon entered the tent carrying the small bundle.
Despite being the commander of the knights, Evernight’s tent was sparse. Since the Dark Lions were not originally a knighthood led by nobles or royalty, they always struggled with supply rations. Fortunately, because the prince was accompanying them on this journey, the Emperor had no choice but to provide ample supplies for formality’s sake.
But he had ordered them to discard unnecessary items and only pack what was essential for survival. They weren’t traveling luxuriously like nobles or royalty, nor did they have the manpower to carry so much baggage.
He unwrapped the blanket and placed Anya on the sleeping bag. His clothes were terribly soiled, and his entire body was trembling. The boy, seeming to sense the warmth, burrowed into the blanket and coughed dryly. As they traveled northward, the temperature gradually dropped, and if his fever wasn’t raised now, he could develop pneumonia.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Evernight unbuttoned Anya’s top, removed the cumbersome robe, and loosened the silk shirt underneath. Instantly, a flat, thin body filled his view. The pale body was neither pitiful nor appealing—just unsightly.
“Damn it.”
Evernight swept back his bangs and cursed softly. The title of Duke was essential for developing the North. That was why he had accepted the Emperor’s insane proposal of “marriage.”
Soon, his long fingers quickly unbuttoned his own shirt. After casually throwing it on the floor, Evernight lay down on the sleeping bag. Then he grabbed Anya’s waist and pulled him close.
Their bare skin touched. Evernight naturally had a high body temperature. It was the optimal physical condition for a Northerner. Hoping the heat would transfer directly to Anya’s body, Evernight held him tight.
“Uh, mmm…”
Anya burrowed into Evernight’s arms like a puppy searching for milk. It was a desperate movement, full of the will to live. That pitiful gesture reminded Evernight of fragments from his past.
Before the fragment of memory could gnaw at his nerves, Evernight grabbed the back of Anya’s head. Soft hair flowed through his rough fingers. Feeling that vivid touch, Evernight pulled Anya in even closer. The tender, downy cheek pressed against his taut, muscular chest.
The sound of the campfire crackling outside the tent and the boy’s faint moans intertwined in the air. It was a strange night.
***
Anya opened his eyes with a start, as if seized by a fit. As the blanket slipped down, the chill unique to dawn soon penetrated his body. He almost screamed at the sight of his exposed body with its shirt removed. Anya hurriedly grabbed the fallen blanket and wrapped it tightly around himself again. He looked around at the scenery of the incredibly simple tent, which was not the inside of the carriage. Noisy sounds were leaking in from outside.
“Good morning! Your Highness!”
Just then, Sisou came in carrying a large wooden tub full of water. He made small groaning sounds as if it was heavy. Thinking he should help, Anya tried to get up but realized he was half-naked and sat back down with his ears turning bright red. Sisou lowered the wooden tub to the floor with an “Alright!”
“Ah, should I call you wife instead of Your Highness? No, husband perhaps?”
Sisou tilted his head and smiled. The young knight, at most only two or three years older than himself, was good-natured. Anya was intimidated by his robust appearance, so different from his own.
“Wh-what is this?”
“Master Riario said you need to take a warm bath to raise your temperature. He used fire magic to heat the water, which he rarely does.”
Sisou placed his hands on his hips and laughed heartily as if telling a proud heroic tale.
“Magic is always mesmerizing. I once dreamed of becoming a magician myself. But I gave up early when I realized I didn’t have a speck of magical power. There was an old man who taught me then, and he was so grumpy. Ah, you might meet him when we reach the North. That is, if the old man is still alive.”
Anya tried his best to respond enthusiastically. Since no one had ever spoken to him like this, he even felt somewhat elated. Seeing Anya listening to his words with round, earnest eyes, Sisou became excited and couldn’t stop talking.
“Are you feeling better? I heard you slept with the Commander yesterday. But don’t worry. The Commander doesn’t have a taste for men…”
I… I slept with the Com-Commander? Wi-with the knight? Anya’s lips parted involuntarily in shock.
“Sisou, shut up and get out.”
Suddenly, a low, bleak voice came from behind. Sisou flinched and turned around. Evernight was standing at an angle, holding a small bowl in one hand.
“Why does everyone tell me to shut up when they see me…”
“Shut up.”
Despite grumbling, Sisou ultimately obeyed Evernight’s command. After the talkative and noisy person left, the tent was soon filled with silence. Anya was preoccupied with watching Evernight’s mood, fidgeting with his fingers.
“Eat.”
Evernight said as he put the bowl down on the floor. The bowl contained thick stew. It was simple and rustic food, but it smelled incredibly delicious.
“C-can I e-eat it?”
“Didn’t you hear me say eat? What, do you want me to feed you?”
Anya shook his head vigorously. He didn’t want to refuse in the first place. He was very hungry and could eat two more bowls. Anya reached out to pick up the bowl. As he did so, the blanket covering him slid down, clearly revealing his bare body.
The man’s gaze fixed on the thin body like a thorn. Anya, startled, grabbed the end of the blanket. With that reaction, he spilled a little of the stew from the bowl onto the floor. He turned pale and trembled.
“I-I’m sorry!”
“Is bowing your head like that a habit? Not telling anyone even when you’re sick?”
Evernight sat cross-legged on a chair in the corner of the tent and looked at Anya expressionlessly. Contrary to the content, his tone was even, making it impossible to gauge whether he was angry. Because Anya’s brothers at the palace became more cruel when he made minor mistakes, the boy trembled like an aspen even for trivial errors. The afterimage of fear, ingrained in his body, was enough to make him a coward.
Evernight spoke in an irritated tone.
“If you’re sick, say you’re sick.”
“Pardon?”
The skinny boy was terribly cautious.
“Acting like an idiot and enduring just makes it more troublesome. Damn kid, you need to remember that.”
The very act of asking such a stupid question made Evernight endlessly irritable.
He detested those who couldn’t take care of themselves. The North was hostile to outsiders. Moreover, most people there despised nobles or royalty. One year? No, at least until the Emperor gave him the title, the boy needed to survive that long. But looking at him now, it seemed he’d be holding a funeral in less than a month.
“Answer.”
His head ached as he saw how much younger the boy looked once undressed than expected. He wasn’t the type to show his temper, and moreover, he had no taste for men. One night for the consummation would be enough. If he just shoved him in a decent room and fed him well, he would somehow survive.
“Yes…”
Anya answered with his hands politely clasped. His voice was so faint it was pathetic.
Evernight swept back his bangs and tapped his foot. He had a habit of sweeping back his hair when frustrated. It was a delicate habit for a knight.
“If you die like this, you’re the only one who loses.”
‘It would really mess things up.’ Evernight skillfully concealed his true thoughts. Instead, he stated a plausible objective fact.
“Unfortunately, no one cares about a dog’s death in Tildyen. Especially for a prince’s dog death, everyone would raise a toast.”
That statement was truly terrifying.
“Anya.”
For the first time, the boy’s name left the man’s lips. Even though it was a familiar combination of letters, it sounded strange.
“Here, there’s no one to indulge your whining.”
The man’s words were rough, but somehow they resonated. He examined Anya up and down while twirling a crude dagger with no engravings in his hand.
“In the North, there’s a saying: Every moment I decide is my destiny. So whatever results come, accept them calmly.”
