Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: She Has Fled
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The passion that had ignited in the early night didn't subside until the deep hours of dawn.
Dever pulled the delicate body in his arms even closer once more. The woman who had collapsed and clung to him time and again at his touch lay utterly still now, exhausted beyond measure.
Dever pressed his lips to the sharp, protruding wingbones.
"Beth."
There was no reply.
Dever parted his lips more mischievously, nipping lightly at the tender flesh. Another heated blossom bloomed on her pale back, marked by his touch.
"Awake?"
Only the calm rise and fall of her breathing reached him.
In the silent darkness, Dever's low chuckle piled up softly, like the snow falling outside. Resting his head against Beth's silky hair, he inhaled deeply the scent of her body—a fragrance meant for him alone.
His thirst knew no end.
If he could drown in her as he pleased, he would give anything for it. It was absurd that this beastly craving, both fueling and restraining him, stemmed from this one woman.
I've gone mad.
Dever admitted it. He was utterly mad.
And the reward for that madness was sweet.
Because she lay nestled in his arms.
"Beth."
He didn't need her answer. The fact that she couldn't speak filled him with delight.
She would be horrified and bolt if she knew, but hiding it had become second nature.
"Don't go."
It was a warning.
"Absolutely."
His stubborn words reached their end.
"Don't even think of abandoning me."
A languid smile played on his lips after the warning. Dever tightened his arms around Beth and closed his eyes.
It was a night of perfect satisfaction, the first in ages.
Dever's eyes snapped open to the commotion outside the tent.
Or more precisely, to the warmth that had vanished from his embrace.
Beth, who should have been quietly curled against him, was gone. Dever's gaze slowly swept the tent interior—from the foot of the narrow cot, across the floor strewn with discarded clothes, to the cramped desk where she had kissed him.
She was nowhere to be found.
The clamor of baggage trucks arriving since early morning and soldiers being shuttled about grated on his sensitive ears. Dever pressed a hand to his temple against the throbbing in his head.
In his abruptly darkening vision, an image overlapped: Beth walking alone down the dark forest path the night before.
"No meek little chin."
When had she slipped away to the barracks?
Imagining her dashing alone down that path at dawn—when beasts might mistake lovers' cries for their own kind and flee—drew a soft chuckle from Dever.
The moment he realized Beth was gone, his pounding head cleared instantly.
As he sat up, the rusty cot creaked. At that instant, a crisp, low snap halted him.
His eyes, frozen mid-air, dropped to the floor.
Something mismatched lay amid the dust and grime.
Dever's gaze turned icy.
It shouldn't be here.
Dever grasped it. The gleaming chain coiled around his fingers, catching the light.
The stained key at its end dangled mockingly.
"Beth Jens."
He repeated her name like he was chewing it to bits, his face twisted in an expression no one had ever witnessed.
"Oh my."
Aines, stepping out of the barracks, startled at the unexpected visitor and drew her foot back.
"I've come to see Miss Beth Jens."
The duke cut straight to the point without pleasantries. His face seemed unchanged, but his aura was off.
Aines glanced behind her. Nurses on the landing peeked curiously at the duke's arrival.
Aines eased the door shut.
"Haven't seen Beth?"
Dever fixed his gaze on the countess's daughter's puzzled face. She truly seemed clueless—not hiding Beth from him.
Dever nodded lightly.
"She's not inside, then."
"I thought you two were together."
Aines whispered, wary of eavesdroppers.
Aines was one of those who had vaguely pieced together Beth and Duke Dever's relationship. Gail had dropped a hint.
"Did she go to the hospital?"
Worry for her missing friend dripped from Aines's musing. Dever tilted his head, scanning the dim barracks corner.
He had stood there once for ages, beneath the small window around the bend.
Knowing Beth wouldn't be there, Dever cast a futile glance anyway.
"I see."
"It's a busy day for withdrawal—she might already be at the hospital helping the professor."
Dever withdrew neatly, conveying thanks with a nod. Aines curtsied properly but struggled to look away from him.
No haste in his steps toward the hospital back door. If anything, they were more leisurely than usual.
Far from the army commander's blade-sharp strides toward his target, as she'd always seen.
"Strange..."
Just her gut feeling.
Duke Dever seeking her friend at dawn was odd, but Beth was surely lending a hand already.
They'd meet soon enough. Aines shook it off.
Today was the return to Wayne. She didn't know homecoming days bred as many surprises as departures.
Soldiers shifting luggage at the hospital back door snapped brisk salutes as Dever entered. He nodded indifferently and headed for the lobby.
His pace was leisurely, like a casual stroll. He sensed the sidelong glances but ignored them.
Dever sought only one person.
Her face lingered in his mind—the woman who had lit up this dim, death-reeking husk of a building, its frame worn beyond belief as the site of their old party.
No one in the military hospital could bar Dever's path.
He entered the pharmacy without pause. His fingers trailed the uncleared shelves and table, landing on a glass jar of colorful candies.
The spot where she'd spun her brazen lie about quitting medicine, begging his help.
No Beth Jens amid the memories.
"No, Your Grace. What brings you here?"
Dr. Barden, familiar from tent rounds, greeted him. Dever offered the field medic a faint smile.
"Looking for something."
The merest quirk of his lips sufficed to convey imperial composure. Barden fidgeted, shoulders tense before that pristine face.
"Shall I search for you? I know the place better than—"
"No."
His smile evaporated, leaving a chill like frostbite.
"I have to find it myself."
"Ah, right. Sorry, I shouldn't have—"
Barden flushed crimson at the blunt rebuff and scurried off.
The thing I must find myself.
Dever's steps quickened—just enough for him alone to notice his impatience.
He scoured this floor.
No Beth.
The third floor.
No Beth.
Fourth floor. In the stripped-bare isolation room, even beds gone, Dever stared at his hand. The key bit into his palm, knuckles blanched white in his vise grip.
Nothing remained but Dever himself.
He approached the window.
Opened it. Heads bobbed busily across the snowy expanse below, like tiny toys. Dever watched, then abruptly turned away.
His boots thudded ominously down the hushed corridor.
Soldiers shrank back from the army commander's descent—so unlike his ascent—fearing fallout.
Out the main gate, he yanked the driver from the nearest transport.
"Uh, Co-Commander."
"Dever!"
Arthur seized him mid-stride to the driver's seat.
Arthur had been sprinting from the forest path toward the barracks.
"What are you doing?"
Arthur hauled the sprawled driver up by the scruff, voice pitched higher.
Dever's eyes flicked to the sheaf of letters in Arthur's hand. He stared, transfixed, before speaking.
"She's gone."
"What?"
Arthur's handsome features creased in confusion.
Dever's gaze clung to the letters still.
"Beth Jens."
Slowly, Dever's eyes lifted. Dark gray irises gleamed fiercely against the morning light.
His lip curled faintly. No gentleman's smile for Dr. Barden—this was a warped man's grin.
"So, she's gone."
"What are you talking about?"
Dever flung the keys to the ground and strode for the nurses' barracks. Arthur shoved the letters at nearby subordinates and trailed after.
Bang.
Dever shouldered open the barracks door. A few lingering nurses gasped at the sudden army commander and prince, but nothing more.
Dever ascended to this floor without a second thought. The emptied rooms loomed desolate as ruins.
"Your Grace?"
Aines, still there, gaped at Dever and Arthur in turn.
Dever made for the lone bed beneath the room's window. Pristine white sheets, not a speck of dust.
And beside it, a pair of boots aligned neatly.
Dever's shoulders began to quiver ever so slightly.
"Dever?"
Arthur's hand on his shoulder jerked back.
"Dever, what is it?"
Dever was laughing.
Arthur stared in alarm at the bizarre sight.
"She ran away."
"She's just lost in the shuffle. Withdrawal days are chaos—we've been through plenty."
"You really think so?"
Dever's head canted toward Arthur.
A small wall mirror behind Arthur reflected Dever. Missing from his uniform chest: the gold imperial crest brooch proclaiming Dever Cliff.
In the glass, he smiled on—lips tugged in an empty, door-like grimace.
His gaze fixed on the bare spot, Dever's mouth hardened gradually.
Everything snapped into focus at last.
"As expected. Too much trust, maybe."
Beth Jens had fled.
From Dever Cliff's grasp.