Grant me Your Grace Chapter 54

“Haah… Ha, aah…”  

 

Princess Dahlia Baran’s weak breaths spilled from her lips. 

 

Hissin wiped his saliva-dampened mouth before pushing his thumb back inside. 

 

As he rubbed his fingerprints against her wet, hot tongue, the weight below grew heavier, and his impulses surged once more.  

 

Barely suppressing his desire, Hissin quietly knelt on one knee before Dahlia. Her delicate left ankle was unnaturally flushed—likely from a guard twisting it two days prior.  

 

Hissin wrapped his hand around her ankle. It was so slender it fit entirely in his palm with room to spare, and under his touch, it gradually paled.  

 

When he raised his gaze, the red marks that had once dotted her body had almost entirely faded. Standing up, Hissin turned his back on Dahlia.  

 

“Go back. Before you see something worse.”  

 

Tears pooled in Dahlia’s wide eyes as she hastily gathered the scattered fabrics. Tying them clumsily around her waist, she gripped the torch and the rope leading back with trembling hands.  

 

As she turned to leave, Dahlia forced down her sobs and spoke.  

 

“…Hold on.”  

 

“…”  

 

“Hold on… no matter what.”  

 

Her shaky voice struggled to continue.  

 

“I’ll… try to stop my brother. So you… no matter what…”  

 

Unable to speak further, she soon disappeared along the rope. 

 

Finally, Dahlia’s figure vanished, and even the flickering torchlight was swallowed by the pitch-black darkness.  

 

Hissin stared blankly into the void, feeling his body lighter than ever before. Even the pain that had seeped deep into his bones had vanished, as if washed away.  

 

That pain—that woman had taken it all upon herself.  

 

His hands clenched into tight fists. He had tried to turn a blind eye, to send her away—but the moment he saw Dahlia drenched in blood, his reason had snapped.  

 

In the end, he had tasted her blood, covering her in crimson marks.  

 

At least he had made direct contact. Had he not, she might have lost consciousness in the middle of this wretched dungeon.  

 

“…Dahlia.”  

 

Hissin quietly whispered her name. The lingering sweetness on his tongue was tainted by the bitter taste of self-reproach.

 

What is that frail woman plotting all by herself? 

 

In my heart, I wanted to rush out and lock her away in a safe place immediately, but the plan still needed a little more time.  

 

“I hope she stays quiet until then…”  

 

Narrowing his eyes, Hissin gripped the cold iron bars. The rattling sound of metal echoed ominously, like his fraying patience.  

 

✨

 

Dahlia quickly followed the rope upward.

 

 The hastily tied cloth kept slipping, slowing her down. The thought that the guards must have already noticed something was wrong and were searching for her made her increasingly anxious.  

 

After walking for a while, she finally spotted a faint light in the distance. Dahlia pulled the hood of her robe deeper over her face and headed toward the exit.  

 

“You—!”  

 

Hovan, who had been pacing nervously near the entrance, barely swallowed the word ‘Your Highness.’ 

 

Dahlia stifled the urge to burst into tears as she stepped outside.  

 

“Why did it take you so long to come out?”  

 

At the guard’s sharp tone, Dahlia bowed her head even lower and replied, “The rope broke inside… I got lost…”  

 

“What was that?”  

 

Her whisper was as faint as an ant’s. 

 

Another guard leaned in, trying to hear better. Afraid her face might be seen, Hovan quickly stepped in front of her and relayed her words.  

 

“She said the rope broke. She got lost and it took her longer to find her way out.”  

 

“What? The rope broke?”  

 

The guards exchanged glances, then yanked the rope connected to the High Priest’s chamber. 

 

Instead of staying taut, it slackened and eventually revealed a severed end.  

 

“Damn it…”  

 

The guard who had shouted earlier cleared his throat, trying to hide his panic. The others nervously shifted their eyes, each trying to push the blame onto someone else.  

 

Smuggling a commoner into the underground prison was bad enough, but negligence leading to a broken rope and nearly trapping her in the maze? 

 

If this came to light, their heads would roll without question.  

 

“Ah, well… Since you’ve already met with the High Priest and begged for forgiveness, you may now rest peacefully on the Night of the Nuit Goddess.”  

 

They waved her off as if they had shown immense mercy to a sinner, clearly eager to bury the incident.  

 

Dahlia had no reason to stay either. She quickly left the underground prison with Hovan.  

 

How long had they been walking?  

 

“Haa…”

 

Finally stepping onto a deserted path, Dahlia’s legs gave out, and she collapsed.  

 

“Your Highness!”  

 

Hovan quickly supported her, but she lacked even the strength to stand. 

 

Watching Dahlia shake her head while clutching her arm, Hovan asked worriedly, “What in the world happened? Did you meet the High Priest safely?”  

 

“Yes. I met the High Priest and returned safely.”  

 

“Ha… That’s a relief. Did anything else happen inside?”  

 

At Hovan’s concerned words, Dahlia couldn’t bring herself to answer. 

 

How could she explain that she had gotten lost, met Hissin, and let him drink her blood?  

 

Dahlia tugged down her sleeve to hide her arm, where the red marks had not yet fully faded.  

 

“Yes, nothing happened. Nothing at all…”  

 

“Let’s return to the Princess’s Palace for now. If we stay here, others might notice us.”  

 

With Hovan’s support, Dahlia headed back to the Princess’s Palace. She didn’t know whether the dull, burning pain in her chest was the price of the blood or the result of Hissin’s rough touch.  

 

✨

 

The drizzling rain soaked the land of Baran all day.  

 

The long-awaited rain during the dry season felt like a blessing, and the weary people of Baran, exhausted from prolonged famine and plague, momentarily set aside the burdens of life and offered prayers of gratitude to the goddess Nuit.  

 

Dahlia also stood by the window, watching the falling rain. 

 

Though it seemed the rain would soon stop before the dry season, the thick, dark clouds lingered in the sky for quite some time.  

 

She recalled the words Aaron had spoken to her in the underground prison a few days prior.  

 

[You must use Your Highness’s divine power.]  

 

Aaron had said her divine power was the key to saving this land. She had to revive the dying lands with her blood and stop Saltar, who sought to plunge the nation into chaos.  

 

But until now, she had only used her blood to heal living people or animals—never once to revive dead land. She couldn’t even begin to estimate how much blood it would take to restore those vast lands or what the cost would be.  

 

Above all, she was confined to the Princess’s Palace. She had no means to travel across all the afflicted lands scattered throughout the country.  

 

Even Hovan, who was relatively free, couldn’t leave the capital for long since he had to guard the temple in the absence of the High Priest.  

 

‘How can I revive the land? There must be a way…’  

 

Just as Dahlia sank deep into thought—  

 

“Your Highness, I’ve brought tea.”

 

Just then, Bertha entered with fig tea and light refreshments. B

 

ut as she absentmindedly glanced up, the red marks peeking out from beneath Dahlia’s sleeves caught her eye.  

 

“Your Highness, it seems your skin condition is flaring up again.”  

 

“Ah…”  

 

Flustered, Dahlia quickly pulled down her sleeves to cover her wrists. She had deliberately avoided changing her nightgown to hide the marks, but in a moment of carelessness, they had been exposed.  

 

“Your Highness, does it hurt? Should I bring a damp towel?”  

 

“No, it’s fine. This time isn’t too bad.”  

 

At Dahlia’s reassurance, Bertha let out a sigh of relief.  

 

“That’s such a relief. You always suffer so much when the rash flares up.”  

 

“Yeah… I do.”  

 

Dahlia idly brushed her covered wrist.  

 

Right after feeding Hissin her blood in the underground dungeon, the red marks had spread rapidly, accompanied by pain. 

 

But perhaps because of her direct contact with Hissin, the pain didn’t dig too deep, lingering faintly beneath the marks.  

 

Though the kiss had been rough, Dahlia knew—Hissin had deliberately touched the areas where the marks were darkest.  

 

Since they were wounds he himself had inflicted through torture, he must have known exactly where the deepest red stains lay.  

 

‘He touched places he didn’t even need to…’  

 

The memory of those strange, lingering touches sent a tingle down her lower abdomen. Startled by the sudden heat between her legs, Dahlia quickly chased away the sensation and picked up her teacup. 

 

Unlike usual, the thick sweetness clung heavily to her tongue.  

 

Bertha, who had been watching her reaction, gave an apologetic look.  

 

“Is it too sweet? There wasn’t much fig left, so I added a little more honey. They said fig deliveries will be difficult for a while…”  

 

“So things outside still aren’t improving, it seems.”

 

The drought had already persisted through the dry season, and now, an unknown blight had killed all the crops. 

 

Luxuries like figs were inevitably pushed aside in favor of barley, which could at least fill empty stomachs.  

 

As Dahlia’s expression darkened, Bertha forced a cheerful tone and brought up a hopeful topic.  

 

“They say the plague is slowly being contained. Once the surrounding villages stabilize, they’ll be able to send messenger hawks again. Travel between villages will also be possible.”  

 

Bertha hadn’t been able to return to her hometown, where her parents lived, since the plague began. She clung to hope, wishing for the lockdown to lift soon.  

 

This girl must have suffered so much worrying about her family. As Dahlia looked at Bertha with pity, a sudden thought crossed her mind.  

 

“Bertha, if the lockdown is lifted, could you do me a favor on your way back home?”  

 

At Dahlia’s words, Bertha nodded eagerly, as if she had been waiting for the request.  

 

“Of course! Whatever you command, Your Highness. If it is your wish, I will carry it out faithfully, even at the cost of my life.”  

 

“Thank you, Bertha. You’ve given me an idea.”  

 

Dahlia stroked Bertha’s head, relieved.  

 

There was a stretch of land along the way to Bertha’s hometown that had been severely affected by the blight. If she could have Bertha take some of her blood there for an experiment, she could test its effects.  

 

If she could prove that her divine power worked on the land as well, she would spare no means to spread her blood across all the afflicted soil.  

 

‘Please, let the plague subside before my brother makes his move…’  

 

Dahlia prayed for the lockdown to end soon as she listened to the pouring rain.