Grant Me Your Grace

But contrary to Dahlia’s hopes, Hissin never returned to her dreams. 

Unsurprisingly, the pain in her wrist, which she had paid for with blood, also plagued her for a long time.

She was in pain every day, often crying herself to sleep, and could barely lift a spoon with her left hand.

After a month of suffering, Dahlia was able to overcome the pain gradually.

She still couldn’t hold anything with her left hand, but she could flip through a book or brush her hair.

‘From what I’ve heard, they almost had to amputate his hand… I guess I should be thankful that things are recovering this well.’

Flipping through the pages of the book, Dahlia clutched her throbbing wrist and drew in a low breath.

General Abassih had left for the front lines the day after receiving the blood. He didn’t want the Emperor or anyone else to know he’d been healed by the holy blood.

Of course, even if the Emperor did find out, it wouldn’t have changed much. After all, Dahlia exists to bolster Saltar’s position of authority.

A little scolding. That would be the extent of her punishment.

‘Perhaps he already knows.’

Dahlia closed the book she’d finished, swallowing hard against the pain that was once again creeping in. Reading was the only thing that could take her mind off the excruciating pain.

Placing the book back on the shelf, she stood up and moved closer to the window. The sun was already setting, bathing the beautiful country of Baran in a golden glow.

Knock, knock—

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Bertha entered.

“Your Highness, shall I call upon supper?”

“Yes. Please serve meat soup tonight.”

“Meat soup?”

Bertha’s eyes drifted to the window, where thick clouds were gathering in the darkening sky. The child’s eyes sparkled briefly.

Dahlia’s meat soup was their sign that she was going to pray at the temple that night. It meant that she was well enough to leave the palace, which was good news for Bertha, who had been watching over her for the past month.

“Yes, Your Highness, I’ll be right back with your meal.”

Bertha immediately grew excited and rushed off to get the meal, causing Dahlia to smile slightly.

✨

As night fell, Dahlia put on a robe that went down to her toes.

“Shall I serve you today, Your Highness?”

Worry flickered in Bertha’s round eyes as she examined the clothes. She was terribly worried that Dahlia, who hadn’t fully recovered, might collapse outside.

Dahlia shook her head and dismissed Bertha.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine. It’s either the palace or the temple, after all.”

“You should be careful, Your Highness.”

Dahlia nodded and put on her covering. Then she headed straight for the temple, following the familiar path.

‘I wonder if I’ll see him again today.’

A sudden thought made Dahlia pause, and by ‘suddenly’, she meant that she had been thinking of Hissin since she had decided to go to the temple. But she had been trying to ignore it, to keep him out of her mind.

There was no guarantee that she would see him as she had last time. No, she had no reason to see him in the first place.

‘I just… want to make sure.’

Dahlia clutched her throbbing left wrist.

I wonder if the sudden disappearance of the scar on my chest has anything to do with the influence of the goddess. As a gift from the goddess, perhaps he has the ability to erase the price of blood.

An ability that responds only to divine blood and not to ordinary people.

That’s why I’ve been wanting to meet him once more.

[Grace, please grant me.]

Though it bothered her a little that he had disrespected the god.

“There’s a better chance I won’t see him at the temple anyway, and there’s no guarantee the cost of blood will dissipate.”

Dahlia muttered bitterly, letting down her hopes. Meanwhile, the pale moon had risen higher, signaling that night had settled in.

“Rayrion, at least you’re here to greet me.”

Dahlia hurried to the temple. Her hopes for the goddess followed her steps as stealthily as a shadow.

✨

Dahlia’s steps were silent as she entered the temple. It was a night when everyone slept deeply, and even the moon hid among the clouds, leaving her in darkness.

She held up a silver plate with a flickering candle, and her vision brightened slightly. Dahlia placed the plate on the stone fence, then knelt as usual before the statue of the Nuit goddess.

She slowly lifted her closed eyelids as she recited a long, lengthy prayer in her mind.

“…give me the wisdom to discern your will and what is not your will.”

She ended her prayer with the same words as always.

Dahlia lifted her head and gazed at the statue of the Nuit goddess. The moonlight, obscured by clouds, flowed serenely over the goddess’s face.

‘I wonder what you are trying to tell me.’ 

Perhaps she listens patiently to my frustration, or perhaps she watches in disappointment as I dare not fathom her will.

“In the words, if thou wouldst, punishment. Let it be a sin I know not of…”

She stared at the statue of the goddess with a mixture of resentment and pleading. Dahlia rose from her seat in defeat.

“Grant me grace.”

After kissing the back of the goddess’s hand, she walked slowly through the temple’s courtyard.

“Rayrion… Rayrion.”

Dahlia called out to Rayrion in a low voice. After a few more calls, she heard a meow and the sound of a cat in the distance.

Soon, with a pounce, Rayrion came out of the bushes. He hopped out, white as a dandelion seed, and rubbed himself against Dahlia.

Dahlia brushed against him, and soon the tips of her black robe were covered in his white fur.

She chuckled softly as she stroked the squirming, wriggling creature.

“How are you, Rayrion? Have you eaten? I’m sorry I’ve been away, I haven’t been feeling well.”

Dahlia pulled out some jerky and fed it to Rayrion. 

Luckily, the people at the temple had taken good care of him while I was gone, and he seemed to be in good health.

As he excitedly munched on the jerky, he suddenly twitched his nose and began to sniff Dahlia’s scent, then nuzzled her left wrist.

“Rayrion… can you smell this?”

Dahlia’s eyes glazed over. Her wrist, covered in black silk, was still writhing in pain, covered in red spots.

“At first it hurt so bad I thought I might as well pass out, but thankfully it’s bearable now.”

Dahlia stroked Rayrion’s head and smiled weakly.

“At least I saved someone, so… I guess I should count myself lucky.”

General Abassih was the greatest general in Baran. He guards our borders from the periphery and defends Baran day and night, so it would be fitting to mend his arm.

I would rather bear the pain of a loyal man who defends his country than to be in the depths of the Princess Palace and do nothing.

“Ah!”

At that moment, Rayrion’s sharp tongue touched her left hand. The pain was excruciating, and Dahlia pulled her arm away in surprise.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain burned like fire.

“Did you get bitten?”

A familiar voice called out from somewhere. I looked up and saw Hissin walking out of the temple.

“Ah, Rayrion…”

As the stranger approached, Rayrion took off running. Dahlia, who hadn’t caught him in time, stood up nervously.

Hissin, who seemed to be approaching at any moment, stopped at the same distance as last time. He bowed politely to Dahlia.

“Greetings, Princess.”

A bow, once to the chest, then to the forehead, and a hand extended to Dahlia. 

Dahlia swallowed dryly at his greeting, which seemed beyond polite to sublime.

Hissin already knows who I am. Trying to deny it here would only lead to more embarrassment.

In the end, Dahlia had no choice but to accept his greeting.

The corners of his lips twitched as he looked at Dahlia, who returned the greeting faster than before. 

His eyes traveled to Dahlia’s left wrist.

“Are you okay?”

Realizing the direction of the gaze, Dahlia quickly lowered her left hand. Then she spoke in a casual voice.

“It’s nothing.”

“I see.”

Hissin conceded easily, but his eyes said otherwise. They stared so intently at her wrist that Dahlia hid her arm behind her back.

At that moment, images of Hissin from her dreams began to flash before her eyes.

The lustful darting tongue, the sound of licking damp flesh, the lips that had so blatantly sucked on her mound, the decadent red eyes that greedily stared into hers.

And then there was me, crushed beneath him, moaning lustfully.