Chapter 96

It had been a deafening day. Inside, the entire province was in chaos from the blizzard disaster; outside, panic rippled through the hallways with the news of their allied unit being ambushed.

“Have they confirmed any survivors?” Odelliana asked.

Martin dragged a hand down his gaunt face, speaking as though he were wrenching the words from his chest. “…They’re beginning the delivery of the bodies, they say. The unit scattered in all directions, so even if there are survivors, it’s impossible to conduct a search right now.”

“Explain the circumstances in detail.”

“According to the report, the Eisenwald troops were all assigned to the rear supply line. It appears their convoy was attacked from behind during transport. Likely the work of barbarians or hired mercenaries, but we won’t know the exact details until someone who lived returns.”

“…What about Matthias?”

“We’ll know once the bodies arrive.”

Matthias was strong. There was no way he would die from a single ambush like that. Not him—no mere human, but a beast… and an upper-ranked beast at that. He would not go down so absurdly. Her mind understood this, but her heart had already lost its equilibrium.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heart dropped like a stone and thrashed wildly against the floor of her chest. A tiny, foolish spark of possibility—that possibility—kept swelling, inflating, warping into suffocating dread.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Malena asked as she steadied Odelliana, who had begun to sway.

Leaning against her shoulder, Odelliana exhaled a shaking breath and pressed a hand to her brow. “…I should rest for today.”

Malena exchanged a brief glance with Liam and Martin, then circled an arm around Odelliana’s back, almost enveloping her. “I will escort you to your chambers.”

As the slender young lady’s figure receded down the corridor, shadows fell across Liam’s and Martin’s faces.

“…He’s alive, right?” Liam muttered.

“He’s not someone who’d die so pointlessly,” Martin replied.

“Damn it,” Liam hissed.

“The wagons carrying the bodies will arrive soon. Her Ladyship seems like she’ll continue resting, so let’s go take a look. Just briefly.”

It weighed on them to leave their posts even for a moment, but the need to confirm whether Matthias was among the dead—and the knowledge that the other guards remained at their stations—pushed Liam and Martin to the decision.

They left orders with the guards at the poorhouse entrance not to abandon their posts, then stepped outside. Not long after the two disappeared down the road, three or four masked men approached the remaining guards.

***

Even in the moment when Matthias’s blade pierced her heart, Odelliana had felt not resentment but pity.

A poor child, raised like a dog just as she had been. His obedience to Jocelyn’s command—unyielding, instinctive—reminded her painfully of her own once-loyal self. That was why her grief ran so deep. A young predator trained only to obey would, once he’d served his purpose, die with a shackle around his neck. She knew it.

Matthias had never been affectionate, but he had been a comrade in the Order, a fellow acolyte, a rival—bound to her through years of service under the same supreme goal of securing Jocelyn’s crown. There was no way attachment hadn’t taken root over such a long span. He was the aching finger she could never ignore.

By Jocelyn’s order, she had taught him how to dispose of bodies, had poured into him a near-fanatical loyalty that bordered on brainwashing. Those were not lessons meant for a boy who wasn’t even of age. At the time, she’d felt no particular guilt; but once crowned queen, she came to resent herself for helping turn a human being into something trained, leashed, and obedient like an animal.

And so, even deciding to use him in this second life—this new existence forced upon her—felt like another sin. It meant that Matthias, whether in her past life or this one, would forever be swept along by someone else’s will.

Yet guilt was weaker than the instinct to survive. That selfish instinct won. She justified bringing him along by telling herself she could make it up to him—that she would treat him better, that she could offer him happiness at the end of their journey.

“He will be safe. Please don’t worry too much,” Malena murmured.

The jujube tea she offered smelled fragrant, but Odelliana had no will to put anything in her mouth.

“But what if something happens to him…”

She felt unsteady. Every ounce of weight she had been holding off her mind by leaning on him—every pressure, every burden—now threatened to crush her completely.

It wasn’t the fear of facing the future without Matthias; it was the sharp, all-consuming grief at the thought that she might have wronged him beyond redemption, yet again.

“He won’t die. My lady knows Sir Matthias’s overwhelming skill better than anyone.”

“I know… but what if.”

“Until a body is confirmed, it is right to believe he lives. Hold fast. The young lady who sent him off so calmly—if even you crumble at this, what shall we do?”

People endure and endure until a single moment arrives when they can no longer bear the weight and break. She hadn’t sent him off calmly—she had only pretended. Every day she had waited, anxious, hoping, clinging to the thinnest thread of faith. Now that thread was melting away like snow in the sun.

She was about to sink fully into that mire of despair when—

“Aaaah!”

A woman’s scream ripped through the corridor, followed by others from different directions. Odelliana froze, then hurried to the window—just in time to see armed guards cutting down the people inside the poorhouse.

“…What is this?”

There was no time to think. Sensing danger on instinct, Malena snatched a thick cloak, wrapped it around Odelliana, and lifted her into her arms.

“We must run!”

Why the guards? Why them?

Pressed tightly against Malena’s chest, Odelliana held her breath. These were no barbarian raiders nor mercenaries in disguise. These were Eisenwald soldiers—yet they were butchering civilians.

Malena burst out of the building and sprinted for the stables behind the poorhouse. She threw a saddle onto a horse with frantic speed, hoisted Odelliana up first, and then climbed on behind her.

“Good thing I learned to ride,” Malena muttered through clenched teeth.

“Hold tight, my lady. We’re heading for the castle.”

She snapped the reins and the horse bolted across the snow. Even as they sped toward the road, the screams continued—ragged pleas for mercy mixing with the guards’ shouts to seize the woman.

Unless the remnants of the mercenaries from the last raid had disguised themselves as guards—

Two faces surfaced in her mind.

Men with command authority.

Jocelyn and Hermann.

Damn it…

Odelliana clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. The cries of the dying clung to her like curses. This is your fault. Why are you running alone? Their accusations clawed at her ears, but she wrapped both arms tighter around Malena and refused to break.

Her chest burned as though on fire, yet her mind cooled into an icy stillness. She forced herself to calculate, to measure possibilities, no matter how much shame clawed at her for fleeing. What could she do with a crippled leg? What help could she possibly bring by running back into that carnage? She imagined scenario after scenario and each ended in failure. Her body was too weak. She was simply too powerless.

“My lady! Down!”

Malena’s scream tore through the wind as they galloped along a mountain slope. Odelliana ducked instinctively. An arrow hissed through the air and struck the horse’s flank. The beast shrieked and bucked violently.

“My lady!”

Malena wrapped her arms around Odelliana’s waist, locking her in place, fighting desperately not to be thrown. Odelliana too strained with everything she had, clinging for dear life.

Then—another arrow sliced through the air and buried itself in Malena’s shoulder.

“Ahh!”

She lurched sideways. Odelliana felt the strength drain from the arms holding her in place. She stared at Malena—at her twisted expression of pain—and then, as if a breath had been knocked out of her, Odelliana loosened her own grip. Her weight tipped backward. Malena’s figure drifted away.

“My lady!”

That cry was the last thing she heard before her back and hips slammed into the snow-covered ground. Her vision filled with white as she tumbled down the slope.

Bone-crushing pain roared across her body. She rolled faster and faster, falling helplessly down the steep incline. She tried to stop her descent, clawing at the snow, but her body wouldn’t obey. Only after a long, dizzying drop did she crash into a large boulder at the bottom.

A sickening thud. Her body crumpled.

Snow drifted gently down over her blurred vision. Something warm and sticky trickled from her scalp. Red stained the edges of her sight; it had to be blood.

Her head was torn open. Her surviving leg—could she move it? Somehow, yes. It moved. Not broken. Her left arm was dead weight. Her right arm moved, though her ring finger lay stiff and numb. Likely broken. When she braced her core to sit, a stab of agony pierced her lungs as though dozens of needles had been driven through her ribcage.

Cold. Pain. And through it all, a suffocating, honey-thick sleepiness beckoned. If she closed her eyes now, she could escape—escape the wounds, escape the fear, escape everything.

To sink beneath the falling snow and die didn’t seem so terrible. Hadn’t she wanted rest, in the end? She had lived only because she couldn’t die. What attachment did she really have to this life—

I’ll return, Master.

As her mind began to fade, Matthias’s stalwart back—his figure as he left for the front—floated before her.

Her disciple. She didn’t even know whether he lived or died. Was he fighting fiercely somewhere, thinking only of returning here? Or had he already closed his eyes for good?

Tears pooled over her lashes. Suddenly, warmth surged through her limbs, melting the cold that had begun to swallow her whole.

…I won’t die like this. Not like a dog.

Gritting against the agony tearing through her chest, Odelliana pressed herself flat against the snow. With her one functioning arm and her legs, she began to crawl. Slowly, painfully.

You’re alive. You must be. So I will live too… to find you.

They would meet again.

Somehow.

No matter what.