Red Shadow in the Night

Wavering

With a desperate resolve, Isabella wrapped her arms around Lord Reginald's neck and pressed her lips to his.

But gradually, Lord Reginald took control, his arms tightening around her as they entwined in a daze, their kiss deepening. After a long moment, he released Isabella, his once-impassive eyes now tinged with desire, his breathing ragged.

When she had stepped into the Regent’s Manor, Isabella had felt uncertain, clinging only to the faint glimmer of hope that someone in her desperate situation might grasp at. She and Lord Reginald, the regent, had only crossed paths a few times. She lived secluded in the depths of the palace, unwilling to engage in the harem’s petty jealousies and rivalries over the emperor’s favor, confining herself to the Phoenix Palace and rarely venturing out.

Each time she saw Lord Reginald, it was at palace banquets. She sat to the emperor’s right, while he sat to the emperor’s left, separated by a single table. Out of courtesy, they would raise their cups in mutual salute, but beyond that, there was no interaction. Yet Isabella suddenly recalled how his gaze would linger on her, each time a little longer than before. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed it himself, but she, who had grown up under such watchful eyes, understood its meaning all too well.

So, she was gambling.

Gambling that in those glances, there had been a flicker of something more—even if it was just superficial attraction.

And now, it seemed she had won.

As Isabella thought this, Lord Reginald suddenly straightened her disheveled clothes. His eyes cleared, the desire vanishing as if the earlier intimacy had been nothing but an illusion.

He stepped back, calmly freeing himself from her grip on his robe. His voice was cool and clear. “It is late, and the night is damp. Your Majesty should return.” At that moment, he resembled a nobleman who, after a fleeting dalliance with a beautiful courtesan in a pleasure house, found her charms lacking and discarded her without a second thought.

A surge of humiliation rose within her. She clenched her fists, laughing bitterly. “What is the meaning of this, Lord Regent?”

His voice, colder than the night wind, replied, “I apologize for the offense, Your Majesty.” Though he spoke of regret, there was no trace of guilt in his demeanor. “But regarding your request, I lack the certainty to intervene. How could I dare to take more?”

Isabella bit her lower lip.

He was lying. As the kingdom’s regent, Lord Reginald wielded immense power. There was little he couldn’t influence. This was merely an excuse to dismiss her.

“Moreover,” he continued, his tone sinking slightly, devoid of emotion, “Your Majesty remains the emperor’s wife. It is not my place to interfere.” His words were veiled, but Isabella understood clearly. He was reminding her that she belonged to the emperor, not to him, and he had no obligation to challenge the emperor on her behalf.

Trapped in the palace, she had nothing to offer in negotiation—nothing but her beauty, her body.

But for the notoriously abstinent regent, her allure could only captivate him momentarily. It wasn’t enough to sway him.

She had been naive.

Lord Reginald lowered his gaze, watching as her expression shifted from anger to dejection. A fleeting, unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes, gone in an instant.

Indeed, he had been momentarily entranced by Isabella, a woman of breathtaking beauty. For years, he had suppressed his desires, never allowing any woman to affect him—yet she had effortlessly broken his control. Precisely because of this, he knew he had to stop before it was too late, to push her away.

From the moment she arrived at his manor late at night, he had guessed her intent to seduce him. Confident in his self-control, he had let her in, curious to see how the foolish emperor’s wife would try to ensnare him. But somewhere along the way, things had spiraled out of control. His vaunted discipline crumbled as she drew closer.

His reason had been devoured.

Lord Reginald could not afford to indulge in desire. Too many responsibilities weighed on his shoulders. Once he allowed even a sliver of longing, it would consume him, and he would lose all restraint.

He buried his wavering emotions deep, determined not to let anything disrupt his plans.

Isabella suddenly lifted her gaze to meet his. Her peach-blossom eyes, both alluring and innocent, curved slightly as her red lips parted in a faint smile—so captivating it could steal one’s breath. “I understand your words, Lord Regent.” She stepped down from the desk, retreating two paces. With her hands poised gracefully at her waist, she curtsied elegantly, embodying the dignity of a queen. “Let us pretend I was never here tonight.”

Lord Reginald’s expression remained serene, like an untouchable immortal unstained by worldly dust. “Naturally.”

Without another word, Isabella turned, picked up her fox fur cloak from the floor, draped it over her shoulders, and left without looking back. As she departed, she noticed the door had been left ajar, and the guard who had stood outside was nowhere to be seen. The area was deserted. This detail confirmed that Lord Reginald had indeed anticipated her purpose.

He had known she came to seduce him and had even discreetly dismissed the guards. So why hadn’t he taken things further?

It was baffling.

When Isabella returned to the Phoenix Palace, her feet met the cold floor tiles, the chill piercing her bones. Only then did she realize she had left her embroidered shoes at the Regent’s Manor. Lost in thought earlier, she hadn’t noticed her bare feet. Fortunately, it was late, and she had carefully avoided the patrolling guards on her way back, escaping notice.

Upon seeing her return, Beatrice, who had been dozing outside the bedchamber, hurried in. She anxiously inquired where Isabella had been and where her shoes were.

But Isabella refused to speak of it, revealing nothing. She merely instructed Beatrice to help her prepare for bed and ask no more questions.

Though worried, Beatrice obediently closed her mouth and attended to her lady’s rest.

The next day, as dawn broke.

Burdened by her troubles, Isabella had slept poorly. In her half-awake state, she thought she heard faint rustling outside her bedchamber. Already a light sleeper, she opened her eyes and called softly, “Beatrice.”

The door to the bedchamber opened immediately. Beatrice stood by the bed and curtsied. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”

“What is happening outside?”

Beatrice helped her up and whispered in her ear, “The Queen Dowager has summoned you. She requests that you visit the Longevity Palace after breakfast to pay your respects.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Isabella’s face. Typically, she only visited the Longevity Palace on the first and fifteenth of each month or occasionally to keep the Queen Dowager company. Never before had she been summoned so urgently, especially while she was still asleep.

Such haste could only be due to the absurd marriage alliance the emperor had proposed the day before.

She scoffed inwardly. Truly, one wave had barely settled before another rose.

Her expression remained calm, but a cold edge touched her lips. “Beatrice, help me dress.”