Chapter - 162

Inés sensed his arm tense under her touch.

When she pulled him closer by the arm, his large frame leaned over, resembling a statue swaying on the edge of a fall. If moonlight had illuminated the scene, his imposing shadow would have swallowed her whole. Anyone witnessing this might have misunderstood, thinking he was attempting to force himself onto her.

Swiftly, Cárcel regained his composure and drew back, like a child retracting from a flame. Straightening himself, he sought an appropriate distance between them once more.

On the other hand, Inés looked like a child who had just realized that climbing over this towering man before her might be easier than pulling him with her meager strength. Before he could fully withdraw, she pulled herself up to her knees, slipping one leg between his, rising to meet his eyes. Her hand found his collar, and she clung to it with all her weight, as if urging him closer.

Holding his breath in silence, he looked down at her.

She felt his pulse thrumming wildly against her skin. His large hand, resting on her slender shoulder, attempted to hold her back but lacked force, as if he feared the slightest push might harm her.

I suppose some things never change, Inés thought to herself. A silent breath of exasperated laughter rose in her throat but didn't escape her lips. The Cárcel she married perceived her as someone of exquisite fragility, delicate as the finest porcelain; even with a vitality unmatched in her past, Inés found herself subject to his unwavering care. Likewise, the Cárcel in front of her refused to exert any strength against her.

She mused that he might have approached all women with such caution, given his inherently gentle nature. Curiosity led her to speculate on the woman who might have captured his eye in her past life, wondering if she had known her. Inés paused to reflect on the women she had encountered during this time: the ladies at balls, the maidens swooning at a mere glance from Cárcel Escalante, the near-obsessive gazes directed toward him. Despite the numerous swirling rumors, she struggled to pinpoint a particular individual. Her lack of interest likely contributed to this difficulty.

Her wandering mind returned to the present scene, yielding no answers. A strange, unnecessary feeling lingered. Inés tried to brush it away, but the little fragments of jealousy clung to her like wet sand.

Jealousy? she thought incredulously. The emotion seemed far too commonplace, as though her life were normal. She had to remind herself that she was in the body of her past self, within her dream, and that she'd even intended to take advantage of Cárcel in her current life.

It struck her as comical just how different she felt from the devastating words Inés Valenza had spoken a few moments before. Perhaps her past self's state of mind was rubbing off on her. Never had Inés Valenza tasted a more liberating moment than now, especially during this period when she had teetered on the brink of madness.

Liberating. Yes, that was it.

Inés Valenza had concealed the crushing humiliation that beleaguered her, refraining from sharing with anyone the painful truth that she was enduring rape-until she flung that word at Cárcel Escalante, who bore no responsibility for her suffering.

Stripping away the euphemistic expressions like "her husband's demands" or "conjugal relations" that veiled the harsh truth, she confronted the awful reality that Oscar Valenza had been violating her for the past two years.

This undeniable truth persisted, regardless of the wonderful first days of falling in love or the days that had been pleasant enough before this torment had begun. There was a time when she had adored Oscar; back then, his innocent eyes had sparkled at the sight of her. Yet, all of that paled in comparison to the grim reality she now faced.

Inés Valenza felt a weight lift off her chest. She felt as if she were ready to embrace death in peace.

"If Oscar were to catch us like this, he would finally end my life," she whispered.

The hand on her shoulder tightened in an instant at her words. Cárcel tried to push her away again, but all he managed was to grip her sleeve so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Ignoring his effort to put some distance between them, she leaned in closer, driven by her need to take her anger out on someone.

His tense, rigid body revealed uncertainty about the next course of action; a blend of unease and guilt seemed to weigh him down. It was as if she were confronting a naive priest in a chapel rather than a renowned flirt.

Inés Valenza's lips curled into a smirk before she burst into a chuckle. "But I can't drag someone as innocent as you down with me."

He simply stared at her, wordless.

"So why don't you share some of your rakish tricks to ensure we go unnoticed?" she suggested.

No one would catch sight of them that night, and when Oscar returned at dawn, he would remain clueless. Inés Valenza was well aware of this, and Cárcel wasn't naive enough not to realize this, either. In other words, his rejection was entirely independent of the concern of someone witnessing this scene.

Their faces were mere inches apart now, close enough for Cárcel to catch a whiff of the alcohol that lingered on her breath.

"You must be drunk, Your Highness," he observed.

Inés Valenza shrugged. "These days, I feel most like myself when I'm drunk."

"I will escort you to your room, Your Highness," he insisted.

"I don't have a room here, but I do have a jail cell," she told him.

Cárcel let out a strangled sigh and gently pushed her away from him, lifting her up to escort her.

"How surprising. I thought you would have eagerly taken me up on my offer," she mused.

It was a lie. She knew he wouldn't.

There had always been a staunch distance between them as long as she could remember. It was glaringly evident that he held no desire for her, even though he seemed like the kind of man who could effortlessly attract any woman in the world. Whether it was because of his unwavering loyalty to Oscar or his strange standards of refraining from any involvement with married women or virgins despite living in the raging den of affairs that was Mendoza, remained a mystery. Throughout their encounters, he had never shown the slightest inkling of interest in her.

"Is that not why you were wandering in this part of the palace in the first place?" she asked.

He didn't answer her.

"Men who desire to be my lover always appear on the scene like you did," she continued.

"My apologies, Your Highness," was all he said.

"Ah, I must not be good enough to meet your high standards, Commander," she concluded.

His blue eyes glowed even in the darkness as he locked onto her.

Inés's mind wandered back to the moments when his stark gaze had met hers in the past, as drawn to her by some irresistible force. In those instances, he seemed ready to tell her something; at times, those eyes suppressed something profound within, while at other times, they were shadowed by exhaustion.

Gradually, she caught onto the unspoken language within his eyes. She realized why her heart sank whenever his gaze darkened, losing the vibrant blue luster, or when distress clouded his eyes. It was because she had seen that look before, in a distant memory.

Cárcel hesitated before confessing with a touch of reluctance, "I wouldn't normally dare to voice such sentiments, Your Highness, but you fill my cup until it overflows."

"And yet you chose to speak them," Inés Valenza remarked.

"Because what you said earlier was beyond reason," he explained.

"Beyond reason?" she echoed. "Are you suggesting that your audacity stems from a desire to stop my self-deprecation?"

"My apologies," he murmured.

"If your cup runs over, Cárcel, you must learn to savor it," she advised matter-of-factly.

Inés recognized the depths of his affection in his despondent gaze. His eyes would light up at the mere mention of his name, only to quickly dim again. It was as radiant and ephemeral as a flower, blossoming and wilting in fleeting beauty. Those eyes undoubtedly belonged to a man in love.

At last, the truth dawned on her: he had been in love with Inés Valeztena. Always.

"You heard me. Oscar hates you. Enough to wish for you to die on the battlefield. The prince you serve despises you enough to deliberately place you in harm's way," Inés Valenza told him.

He remained silent, but his face conveyed it all.

"You're aware of it already, aren't you?" she asked.

"His Highness may have been the first to declare war, but that is merely a coincidence," he insisted.

"You know it wasn't."

"Your Highness-"

"It's a shame your loyalty is wasted on someone as malevolent as him. And so is your competence, Commander." After a brief pause, she continued, "Sever ties with Oscar. Otherwise, you will perish."

"Inés..." he muttered.

"I am saying this as the childhood friend you used to call by that name. The sooner you defect, the better your future. And the furthest you can go to desert your position is to spend the night with your superior's wife."

"Inés, please"

"If you start with that, you won't dare to set things right," she concluded.

"Please don't... don't speak of yourself as though you're worthless," he pleaded with her.

Inés Valenza blinked at him, offering no response.

"Please do not say such things, Your Highness," he implored, speaking with more formality this time. "I beg you-"

But she cut him off. "Is this the shoulder that was shattered in battle? Is this the arm you nearly lost?"

He fell silent.

"Even if your arm had been severed, Oscar would not have been satisfied. He wants you to die. Next time, it won't just be a matter of losing the use of one arm for a while," she warned him. "He fails to appreciate your sacrifices, even though you suffered a grave wound because of him, had to leave the navy because of his mother's devotion, have been reduced to a mere gentleman of Mendoza, and are willing to serve at his side with undying loyalty."

A surge of intense anger made Inés's stomach lurch for a moment. She suddenly felt an impulsive need to help him. They were all bound to die anyway, she thought, and it was clear that someone as sincere as him, unable to mask his disgust at such trivial matters, would inevitably be cornered to death. He was far too valuable a person to be ruined because of Oscar's insecurities.

Just as her full name displayed the many masters that owned her, Cárcel Escalante de Esposa also had a master who owned him from birth. Valeztena and Escalante. There was a long history behind those haunting names-centuries of power, obsession, ambition, and renown. Also, a sense of inferiority, murderous envy, and loathing.

"It was all for his sake, and yet Oscar is driven mad by it. Whenever you establish a reputation in Mendoza on his behalf, whenever you expand your influence, gain credibility, and become so renowned that everyone knows your name," she said, drawing a rattling breath. "My husband is a fool who hates and fears those who are most valuable to him. He suffers from the delusion that His Majesty's illegitimate son is still out there somewhere, and yet he cuts off connections with those who would help him. An empire led by such an imbecile-is that truly what you want? Do you wish to remain as the servant of a degenerate?" she questioned him.

It was, in fact, not simply Oscar's delusion that the emperor's illegitimate son was still alive. It was the loyalty of those surrounding him that made him believe it was nothing but a delusion. Even with the shadow of her imminent death looming over her, the thought of the emperor's lovely illegitimate son brought a smile to her face. That was why she thought Cárcel Escalante deserved moments of joy as well-a hope of a better future, unlike her own.

However, her thoughts ceased when she heard his absurd response.

"I simply do not wish for you to die, Your Highness. I am aware that you have injured your leg. Your left side seems to be bothering you," he said, as if that was the more pressing concern. Speech eluded her.

"I will escort you to your room, ensuring that no one sees us, of course," he assured her.