* * *
Their fevered passion continued until dawn began to break, light creeping softly over Killian’s broad shoulders.
It was hard even to utter the word “morning.”
Nael weakly raised a trembling arm, pointing out the window with his fingertip.
Killian followed the direction of Nael’s gesture.
The way Nael acted, as if the rising sun signaled the end, amused him.
The start and finish of everything should be dictated by Killian.
Perhaps because their first time had concluded at dawn, Nael seemed to find comfort in the rising sun.
“Should I let you off for now?”
Killian smirked. Nael blinked slowly, barely processing the words.
A wide palm gently covered Nael’s eyes, and soon soft, rhythmic breathing could be heard.
Killian withdrew from Nael’s body, his member glistening as it slid out, leaving the tender flesh behind to contract slightly.
He ran his tongue over his teeth as if reluctant to part.
Then, pulling the thick blanket over Nael’s marked body, he concealed the sight.
The many bite marks adorning Nael’s pale skin resembled a painted canvas, and Killian found it deeply satisfying.
When Nael opened his eyes, the bedroom was empty.
Soft sunlight filtered through a small window, and the faint sound of waves lapping against the hull reminded him that he was still on the ship.
The salty air confirmed it.
It was only then that he realized he hadn’t asked how long it would take to reach the northern lands.
Neither Killian nor Ren had shared much, but given how chaotic the past few days had been, there hadn’t been much chance to ask.
Nael let out a deep sigh, the surreal events leaving him adrift.
It still felt like a dream.
“Ugh!”
When he tried to sit up, his arms gave out, and he collapsed.
His back ached as if it had been broken.
A strange sensation followed as liquid that had pooled inside him began to drip unpleasantly from his sore entrance.
When he reached down to touch himself, his swollen, tender flesh made him wince.
Killian might not tire even if they did this every night, but Nael’s body couldn’t endure much more.
The mere thought of repeating the ordeal tonight made his stomach churn.
Hunger gnawed at him despite everything.
How ironic that his body’s will to survive remained so strong.
“Sigh…”
Nael forced himself upright.
At some point, the bandages that had unraveled during the night had been meticulously reapplied.
Even through the carpet, the hard floor beneath felt strange against his feet.
Nearby, clothes that fit his size perfectly were neatly folded.
He dressed quickly, recalling Ren’s offer to call on him anytime.
However, he didn’t know how to summon Ren—or where he even was.
Turning to the firmly shut bedroom door, Nael took a deep breath.
“Is… is anyone there?”
His voice cracked, foreign and unfamiliar even to himself.
Each word clawed at his throat like a cat’s sharp talons.
He desperately craved a sip of cold water.
When no response came, Nael hesitantly knocked on the door.
Knocking from the inside felt ridiculous, but what else could he do?
Tap. Tap.
His hand trembled as he rapped against the wood.
Silence was his only answer, prompting him to swallow dryly.
Reaching for the doorknob, he slowly turned it.
The door opened effortlessly, as if inviting him to leave.
“Ah…”
Nael let out a small laugh at the unguarded, unlocked door.
Shaking off his hesitation, he stepped outside.
The hallway was as vast as a cave and eerily silent.
Following the red carpet beneath his feet, he ventured forward aimlessly.
His memories offered no clues; apart from the bathroom, he’d seen nothing of this ship.
At the end of the hallway, the sound of waves drew him like a siren’s call.
Stepping into the open air, he was met with dazzling sunlight, raising a hand to shield his eyes.
The warmth filtering through his fingers told him it was already midday.
What he’d missed in his frantic escape from the harbor now came into view.
The ship was far larger than he’d imagined, its massive form bustling with activity.
Voices of busy sailors filled the air, adding life to the scene.
What caught his attention, however, were the jet-black crows circling above the ship.
The same kind Killian had used as messengers.
Their eerie cries, “Caw! Caw!” sent a chill down his spine.
Nael walked aimlessly, letting his gaze wander over his surroundings.
He figured it might be useful to familiarize himself with the area, just in case it could benefit him later.
Moving away from the exposed deck, where he felt too visible, Nael stepped inside.
A staircase descended beside the hallway.
He bit down on his swollen lips, deep in thought.
Kilian, who had momentarily stepped away, could return at any moment, so Nael resolved to make a quick survey and return promptly.
Creak, creak.
The salt-tinged sea breeze had weathered the stairs, making them groan under his weight, betraying every step he took.
Descending the staircase, another set of stairs came into view.
Nael hesitated briefly.
Should he start from the lowest level and work his way up?
As he descended, he strained his ears toward the hallway, catching snippets of conversation and the occasional bark of orders.
Picking up his pace, he hurried down the stairs, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest.
Even though escape was impossible on a ship, he had no intention of inviting misunderstandings that would lead to more of Kilian’s threats.
By the time he reached the lowest level, the air had grown heavier with darkness, humidity, and the stench of decay.
He covered his nose instinctively, the acrid smell of poorly dried wood soaked in seawater assaulting his senses.
The lower he went, the more the ship swayed, stirring a wave of nausea.
“Ugh!”
A retching sound echoed from somewhere nearby.
“John! How much longer do we have to stay here? When will we finally arrive?”
“I’m not sure either, Master Edward.”
Nael froze. The voices were familiar—ones etched in his memory. Could it really be…?
Guided only by the flicker of sparse candlelight, Nael traced the walls toward the source of the voices.
Creak, creak.
The floor groaned under his steps, abruptly cutting off their conversation.
It couldn’t be… What on earth were they doing here?
Questions with no answers piled up in his mind.
“John? Master Edward? Is that you?”
His vague suspicion turned into certainty as he called out.
“Nael?”
“My God, Nael!”
From a corner of the dimly lit space, Edward, the baron’s son, and John, the coachman’s son, emerged.
The faint light barely illuminated their silhouettes, forcing Nael to squint. John rushed over, frantic, to inspect Nael.
“Nael! Is it really you? Are you hurt? Let me see!”
Fussing over him, John ran his hands over Nael’s silk shirt, his astonishment evident as he felt the fine fabric.
“Wow, so it’s true. They said the Grand Duke personally took you in. You look completely different now—like a real nobleman.”
“John…”
Ahem. Edward cleared his throat and stepped between them, breaking their reunion.
“Master Edward?”
Nael’s confusion deepened.
These two should have been safe and comfortable in the South.
What possible reason could they have to board this ship?
Edward, a legitimate noble by birth, had no reason to stow away on the Grand Duke’s vessel.
His unkempt appearance—unkempt hair, a patchy, unshaven beard—was a far cry from his usual pristine state.
Edward clutched his chest, battling nausea, while John fussed over him.
It was jarring to see Edward, who had always scorned Nael for his illegitimate status, in such disarray.
Born of noble blood, Edward had never once allowed Nael the privilege of calling him “brother.”
To see him now, looking so different, unsettled Nael.
He bit his lip in discomfort.
“Why are you here?” Nael finally asked.
Edward swallowed hard before answering.
“As a man, and as the future head of the Baker Barony, I wanted to see the broader world. The Grand Duke is a legendary figure, called the God of War. If I aid him and lead our forces to victory, that would surely secure the future of the Baker family.”
“Did the baron approve—”
“I’m an adult now! I don’t need my father’s permission anymore.”
“Then… how did you even get on this ship?”
John sighed, unable to conceal his dissatisfaction, and grumbled under his breath.
“It’s a long story…”
“John!” Edward interjected sharply.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Nael might even be able to help us.”
Nael blinked, stunned as he watched their bickering.
What on earth was going on?
If the baron found out, he’d likely collapse from the shock.
To the baron, Edward was an invaluable heir, one for whom he had painstakingly arranged tutors and packed every hour of his day with lessons.
And yet, here he was, aboard a ship bound for the far North.
* * *
