villainess'ss Secret Service

c38

38 lack of trust

Altair entered Damien's bedroom and took a seat beside Rosalie. The sight of the girl lying unconscious in bed made his chest tighten in a strange, yet already familiar pang of yearning, while his heart turned into a frantic bird.

He slowly moved the white silk blanket away from her body and widened his eyes in shock, which quickly turned into a suffocating feeling of rage and despair.

"That damned monster... Disgusting creature."

The man slid his fingers over the red marks on Rosalie's shoulders and neck. The feeling of her damaged but still soft skin sent shivers down his spine, causing him to withdraw his hand and clench it into a tight fist.

"How dare he taint your perfect skin with his hideous marks! Do not fret, Rosalie, I will erase them all. I will erase this shame from your beautiful body."

Altair planted a light kiss on the back of Lady Ashter's hand, then placed his large palm on her chest and closed his eyes. A bright, shining white light enveloped them both, resembling a bridal veil. As the flow of his power touched every single mark on Rosalie's body, their colors seemed to collide as if preparing to fight, but Altair's power prevented that from happening. Instead, it simply consumed the subtle orange light emanating from the marks, leaving nothing but the ivory perfection of the girl's soft skin.

Once the shining veil dissipated, exposing Rosalie's pristine beauty once more, the man's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He couldn't help but move closer to the girl's face, as if drawn by an invisible force, eager to connect their bodies together. His lips brushed lightly over her smooth forehead, but as he pulled his face away, Altair furrowed his eyebrows and whispered in a rather pain-filled voice,

"One day it will stop. And you will never have to ruin yourself like this again."

***

Altair quietly closed the door to Damien's bedroom behind his back and noticed the duke pacing impatiently next to it, his deep golden eyes widening upon seeing the man of the Temple before him.

He rushed toward Altair and unconsciously grabbed him by the shoulders, his face distorted with a frantic expression.

"So? How is her condition? Is she going to be fine?"

The man faked a polite smile and, with a rather disgusted jerk of his broad shoulders, freed himself from Damien's grip.

"Lady Rosalie has had a weak constitution from birth; she was not prepared to engage in certain... activities with Your Grace."

That reply made the duke flinch and feel a hot flush washing over his face. When he rushed the disciple inside the bedroom, he entirely forgot that Lady Ashter's body was covered in his marks. The feeling of shame that he unintentionally brought upon his fiancée was overwhelming him too.

'She did not even tell me if I was hurting her... Damn it, one mistake after another! I can never do anything right!'

Tired of watching Damien's silent internal struggle with himself, Altair let out a long sigh and continued,

"Your Grace, Lady Rosalie has already agreed to meet me several times a week for our treatment sessions. I assure you, her condition will improve in no time."

"Perhaps I should ask the High Priest himself, after all --"

"With all due respect, Your Grace,"

Altair rushed to interrupt Damien, his face turning surprisingly dark and serious,

"His Holiness is not your personal doctor. He has his own duties to perform and please rest assured that I am more than qualified to treat Her Ladyship myself."

Damien offered the man a long, piercing look - something

about Altair felt different; as a man of the Temple, he had a bizarre presence to him, yet the duke could not put his finger on it. And that alone was even more unsettling.

"Yes, I understand that. Alright, I will leave Lady Rosalie in your care then."

"Thank you for trusting me, Your Grace. Now, Her Ladyship needs a lot of rest, so please see to it that she recovers on her own. Should you require my help, please let the Temple know as soon as possible."

Altair put on another forced smile and offered Damien a light bow before marching away, leaving only silence behind him.

The duke watched him disappear behind the hallway wall, then cast a somewhat cold look toward his bedroom door and let out another long sigh. He could not have been wrong - thanks to demonic power, he could sense other people's aura, and Altair was definitely in possession of a tainted one. It was an indistinguishable presence of something other than Holy Power, something dark and ominous, yet completely out of his reach.

"Laith?"

Once again, the sound of that name evoked a slight movement in the furthest corner of the hallway, and a moment later, a small figure emerged from the shadows, draped in a familiar black cloak with a large hood over their face.

The girl quietly stood behind her lord and replied in a low voice,

"Yes, My Lord."

"What do you know about this man?"

"His name is Altair Nestor. He is an orphan whom His Holiness picked up from the slums fifteen years ago because he noticed the flow of the Holy Power in him. He is not widely known to the public because he had been locked in the Temple this whole time, but now he is beginning to exercise his powers on par with the Priest. It is said that His Holiness might appoint him the next High Priest after himself."

Damien shifted his golden eyes to the window in front of him and noticed Altair's coach leaving through the mansion's tall gate.

'The next High Priest, huh? Even Alexander trusts him... So why can't I?'

The duke ran his long fingers through his hair, then turned his face to the right, and asked,

"How did it go in the Tulip Room?"

Laith retrieved a folded piece of white paper from underneath her cloak and handed it over to her lord.

"I could not find anything unusual, Your Grace. He is not an addict, but he does help to import Opium from Izaar. As for his own trading business, there is nothing suspicious about it as well, just fur and leather from the Hunting Trips, as declared in his trading reports."

Damien clutched the paper in his large fist and sighed.

"Alright. Good job, Laith."

"I'll be on my way, then."

When Laith disappeared into the shadows, the duke leaned against the wall next to his bedroom door, then unfolded the small piece of paper received from the girl, and raised it in front of his face.

'I still have a feeling it's you. So when will you slip up?".