Grant me Your Grace Chapter 63

As Princess Dahlia had said, Miftah did indeed have a secret lover. 

 

There was no way to know how a ruthless strategist, full of ambition, had his heart stolen by a lowborn woman, but the two seemed genuinely devoted to each other. 

 

After all, the woman had willingly entered a brothel to ensure Miftah’s future.

 

‘I’m glad I never missed a single report Priest Hovan brought me.’

 

For once, Dahlia was grateful for Hovan, who had always delivered even the baseless rumors along with the news of Hayad’s marriage.

 

Studying Miftah—whose composure was far more shaken than before—Dahlia continued, “And even if you marry me, you won’t gain as much power as you think.”

 

“You’re downplaying yourself despite all that you hold.”

 

“As you know, my blood is the empire’s most sacred relic—indispensable yet also its most shameful curse.”

 

Would the Emperor and Crown Prince truly grant absolute power to someone who possessed such dangerous blood? 

 

No. Instead, they would crush Miftah further, severing all his ties and forcing him to focus solely on Baran. That way, they could easily control even Dahlia, once she became his wife.

 

“Father and my brother still don’t know you’ve discovered this secret. But even if they did, do you really think I’d be a strong enough shield for you?”

 

Miftah’s wavering gaze flickered—his resolve clearly shaken. Dahlia maintained her calm demeanor, planting the seeds of unease in him until the very end.

 

“Let me be clear—you’ll be killed without even a chance to resist.”

 

“…”

 

“Right beside my corpse, which you believed to be your absolute victory.”

 

Her persuasive whispers finally shattered his already unsteady green eyes. Having shown him the worst possible outcome, it was now time to let him choose his own path.

 

“I’ll give you some time. I can’t wait long, so I hope you’ll make your decision quickly.”

 

Dahlia was the first to rise from her seat. It was a clear signal—if they weren’t going to take her hand immediately, they should leave now.

 

“Saltar was stepping on thorns beneath my feet.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

Even Miftah, who had been clenching his jaw stubbornly, had no choice but to retreat. He had come wielding a tremendous secret, only to end up ensnared in his own trap. His lofty pride must have been deeply fractured.

 

Dahlia silently watched as Miftah left the reception room.

 

Finally, when no one else remained around her—

 

“Haa…”

 

Dahlia slumped onto the sofa as if collapsing. 

 

The tension she had been desperately suppressing now melted away in a wave of relief. She curled her trembling fingers slightly and exhaled deeply.

 

What had given her the courage to face Miftah? 

 

Throughout the conversation, she had replayed the negotiation tactics she’d learned long ago from Hovan, to the point her head throbbed with exhaustion.

 

Had she let her fear show?

 

If she had stammered or revealed even a hint of nervousness, everything would have been for nothing.

 

Even now, she could barely remember how she had spoken. Dahlia pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead and sighed once more.

 

“Still, I did everything I could… Now, all I can do is pray that time is on my side.”

 

Forcing her weakened legs to move, Dahlia dragged herself back to her bedroom.

💫

 

“…”

 

Hissin, the Mindhu, twitched his eyebrows slightly upon hearing something from the shadow. 

 

A flicker of displeasure passed through his crimson eyes as they stared blankly into the air.

 

“So the Princess is using Hayad in reverse…”

 

Leaning against the cave wall, Hissin rested his arm on his raised knee and let out a low chuckle.

 

“She’s got more nerve than I thought.”

 

This place was still a filthy, damp underground cave, devoid of even a single ray of light. 

 

Yet, the way Hissin carried himself made it seem as though he were seated on the highest and most noble of thrones, compelling the shadow to bow its head instinctively.

 

“Give the order. Speak but a word, and I shall slay Prince Hayad at once.”

 

At the shadow’s words, Hissin silently gazed into the void. 

 

Miftah wasn’t as much of a thorn in his side as Khankundra or Saltar, but he was still an irritation nonetheless.

 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t kill Miftah just yet. 

 

Because if he did, Dahlia might venture into even more dangerous territory in search of another lifeline.

 

Though she had amassed considerable knowledge through books and tutors within the confined walls of the imperial palace, the difference between mere information and real, hard-earned experience was undeniable. 

 

No matter how thoroughly she prepared, there would always be limits.

 

What Dahlia was up against now were beasts who had feasted on flesh dripping with blood in the wild. She, too, was slowly breaking out of her shell, but for now, she was still just a fledgling. 

 

Until she could truly fly, he intended to keep her docile, opening her beak only within the nest.

 

That way, when the day came that she tried to spread her wings and leave—

 

“For now, we wait.”

 

—he could clip those wings.

 

“The Crown Prince won’t act first, and neither will the Princess.”

 

Whether tamed by his hand…

 

Or caged in a new prison…

 

In the end, she would remain by his side.

 

“But before that… it wouldn’t hurt to cut her prey into smaller pieces.”

 

Hissin rose to his feet. 

 

As his massive, muscle-bound frame stood up, the already cramped cell felt even smaller. Hissin reached out, skillfully removing the loose iron bars. 

 

Once outside the cell, he slipped into a secret passageway with his shadow.

 

The two mounted horses prepared in advance by the shadow, began heading somewhere.

 

They rode in stealth, more concealed than darkness itself, for quite some time. Eventually, as they arrived at the vast desert, Hissin let out a sharp whistle.

 

The sound of the whistle scattered into the night sky, carried by the wind, fading into the distance. Then—

 

Thud thud thud thud—

 

A heavy, earth-shaking noise grew louder and louder until, at last, a white glow began spreading beyond the horizon.

 

At first, it encircled the horizon like a lunar halo, but soon, kicking up an enormous cloud of sand, it transformed into a massive legion.

 

“Welcome,” Hissin said, a faint smile curling on his lips as he watched them.

 

“My warriors.”

 

Warriors who could annihilate a kingdom before sunrise. The worst kind of legion—one that left not even a handful of ashes in its wake.

 

“Where your feet tread, not a single trace of life shall remain.”

 

“Yes!”

 

The Moon’s Messengers.

 

Those white deaths—unknown where they came from, unknown whose orders they followed—all knelt before Hissin in unison.

 

💫

 

Dahlia slowly opened her eyes to the commotion that had been going on since early morning. 

 

As her distant senses gradually returned, the clamor assaulting her ears only grew louder.

 

Rising from her bed, Dahlia followed the noise. Beyond the window, she could hear the dull thud of feet striking the ground and the clanking of metal.

 

‘Is it a mineral delivery…?’

 

Having fallen asleep late the night before after negotiating with Miftah, Dahlia rubbed her drowsy eyes and reached out.

 

And the moment she flung the curtains open—

 

“What in the world…?”

 

Her vision was completely filled with the Emperor’s soldiers, and Dahlia’s eyes trembled violently. 

 

The sun had barely risen, yet the soldiers were marching in full armor, their presence overwhelming.

 

Had a war broken out overnight?

 

‘Don’t tell me Saltar has already—!’

 

Startled, Dahlia hastily pulled the bell rope. The jingling sound soon summoned Bertha inside.

 

“Your Highness, did you call for me?”

 

“The soldiers outside—!”

 

Dahlia was about to demand an explanation when her words caught in her throat at the sight of Bertha, her head wrapped in a scarf. 

 

The right side of her hair, roughly cut short, looked uneven compared to the left, which remained full.

 

“Your Highness?”

 

Despite what Miftah had done to her the day before, Bertha didn’t seem afraid to be by her side. She simply gazed at Dahlia with pale eyes, waiting.

 

Pressing her slightly parted lips together, Dahlia gently stroked the child’s cheek. Instead of immediately asking her questions, she pulled over a small chair and guided Bertha to sit.

 

“May I take this off for a moment?”

 

Dahlia carefully touched the scarf as she asked. Bertha hesitated, watching her reaction. 

 

One could hardly blame the girl if she resented her mistress for the ugly cut she’d been given—yet Bertha seemed to blame herself for being caught by Miftah.

 

“It’s alright, let’s take it off.”

 

At Dahlia’s soft coaxing, Bertha timidly removed the scarf. Unlike the haphazardly chopped side, the other half remained neatly braided—just as Dahlia had done for her.

 

“I… couldn’t bear to cut the part you braided for me…”

 

As if even her small touch was something precious to keep.