Chapter 146

“It would only be a little,” Elena whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.

“There is no way this dark sorcery is limited to this one village,” Serin countered immediately, his tone sharp with pragmatism. “To break the hexes in every other location, a ‘little’ won’t be nearly enough, will it?”

“Sir Serin—”

“Please!”

The shout tore from Serin’s throat, loud enough to risk alerting the villagers, but he seemed beyond caring. He looked at her with an intensity that bordered on fury. “Do not force His Grace to stand upon the foundation of your blood. No matter how much you believe you are doing this for him, he will not welcome it. No—it will utterly destroy him.”

Serin took a long, jagged breath, closing his eyes as he fought to rein in his soaring temper. When he looked at her again, the distorted mask of rage had softened into something closer to exhaustion.

“I cannot grant your request, my Lady,” he said firmly. “However, I will see to it that the herbs you mentioned are gathered.”

Elena stood in a daze, watching blankly as Serin turned to the knights to relay the list of medicinal plants she had requested. His words echoed relentlessly in the hollows of her mind: Do not force him to stand upon your blood. She knew he was right. She knew Kennard would suffer if he found out the cost of his victory. Yet, looking at her pale hands, she felt a crushing sense of helplessness. This—this blood-soaked path—was the only choice she felt she had left to offer.

“Lady Elena, please, return to the carriage,” Cura whispered, her face etched with concern. “You must wash your hands.”

“Yes… of course,” Elena murmured, nodding absently, though her feet felt heavy, anchored to the cursed ground.

Serin stepped back toward her, gesturing to the men who were already mounting their horses. “I’ve instructed the knights to send word to gather the herbs.”

“Thank you,” Elena replied, though her eyes remained fixed on the well, tracing the invisible lines of the curse etched into its stone.

Serin let out a heavy sigh and suddenly bowed so low his crown was visible to her. “I must apologize for raising my voice to you so insolently, my Lady.”

“No, it’s alright,” Elena said, waving a hand to dismiss his apology. She looked at him with soft, tired eyes. “I know you spoke out of concern for me and the Grand Duke. I’m not angry, nor am I hurt. Please, lift your head.”

Serin straightened slowly, but the weight didn’t leave his shoulders. “Since you say it is alright… may I be so bold as to say one thing more?”

“Brother, what now?” Cura interjected, stepping between them with an exasperated huff. “Are you going to start again?”

“Stay out of this,” Serin grumbled, shooting his sister a warning glare before turning back to Elena. “Personally, I wish the two of you would learn the meaning of moderation.”

Elena stared at him, unsure of where he was going with this.

“Is this simply what happens when two people are imprinted?” he asked, his head tilting as if he were studying a particularly difficult puzzle. “Does life lose its value? Does everything else cease to matter as long as you are sacrificing yourselves for one another?”

“Pardon?”

“Think about it,” Serin said, counting off on his fingers. “His Grace started a war—twice—just to ensure your safety.” He emphasized the word twice with a shake of his head. “And what about you, my Lady? Even after being gravely wounded, you try to assist him by putting your own life on the line. Again, for the second time.”

He scowled, his brow furrowed in genuine bewilderment. “There should be a limit to everything. It makes my head ache just thinking about how extreme both of you become the moment a problem arises. Neither of you knows where to draw the line.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Elena murmured, her lips curving into a helpless, apologetic smile. She had no defense; his logic was as unassailable as it was frustrating.

“If you’re truly sorry—”

“Brother, stop!” Cura cried out, finally placing herself fully in front of Elena like a shield. She looked up at Serin, hands planted firmly on her hips. “I’m going to tell the Grand Duke!”

“Tell him what?”

“That you were nagging and bullying Lady Elena!”

Serin’s jaw dropped. “When did I bully her? And do I even have the rank to bully the Lady?”

“You’re doing it right now!”

“What?”

Elena watched the siblings bicker, Cura glaring up from beneath Serin’s chin while he sputtered in disbelief. She felt a twinge of guilt; she didn’t want their relationship to sour on her account.

“Cura, I’m fine, really. Stop,” Elena pleaded. “And Sir Serin, that’s enough. I understand what you were trying to say. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

The siblings continued to glare at each other for a long moment before simultaneously huffing and turning their backs to one another in perfect, irritated synchronization.

“Cura… if you say one word to His Grace…” Serin warned.

“If you’re so scared, you shouldn’t have started it!” she shot back.

Only after that final exchange did they finally move away from the well. As Elena walked back to the carriage, she suppressed a sigh. With Serin blocking her primary plan, she needed a new strategy. What else can I do? she wondered. She was desperate to be of use to Kennard. The war had started because of her, and too many lives were being extinguished in its wake.

A sudden chill raced down her spine, and Elena froze in her tracks, spinning around. Behind her, the knights were following as usual, their eyes scanning the darkness.

“What is it?” Cura asked, noticing Elena’s sudden halt.

Serin turned back as well. “Is something wrong, my Lady?”

Elena couldn’t answer. No matter how much she searched the shadows, she saw nothing but the knights. Yet, the sensation was unmistakable—the feeling of a cold, predatory gaze crawling over her skin. It was an oily, sickening presence that refused to dissipate.

“Lady Elena?”

“Someone is watching us,” she whispered.

The reaction was instantaneous. The knights spun around, surrounding her in a defensive circle, their swords hissing out of their scabbards. They scanned the village ruins with sharp, lethal eyes. Serin mirrored their stance, drawing a deep breath to catch any scent on the wind.

He paused, one eyebrow cocking in confusion. “Are you certain? I don’t sense any pheromones other than our own. Could it be someone hiding inside one of the buildings?”

“Perhaps…”

Elena clasped her hands together, staring into the black voids between the structures. She saw no movement, no shadows, but the weight of that gaze remained pinned to her.

“Let’s move,” Serin urged, his voice tight. “If someone is following us, we’ll deal with them then.”

He hurried her toward the carriage. Once inside, Elena sat by the window, peeling back the curtain just a fraction to look out. The feeling wouldn’t leave her. It was a presence only she seemed able to detect.

Could it be…?

She remembered Azis—the way he had appeared as a swirl of black smoke on her wedding day. Sending a fragment of his soul through dark sorcery while his body remained elsewhere was one of his most infamous abilities. But back then, he was limited; he couldn’t exert physical power in that form.

She recalled the grotesque, unfamiliar markings etched into his face when they met at the Imperial Palace. What if he has gained new powers? What if he uses them to attack Kennard? The thought sent her heart into a frantic rhythm, her anxiety blooming into a physical ache.

“Sir Serin,” she called out, “where is the Grand Duke currently?”

“He should be stationed across the Bellad River, preparing to siege the Imperial Palace,” Serin replied. He paused, his voice turning suspicious. “Surely… you aren’t planning on going there?”

“No,” Elena said quickly. Serin’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “But please, find out the current state of the front lines for me.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I am worried. Knowing how he is faring might give me some peace of mind.”

“Haaa… very well,” Serin conceded with a nod. “And where shall we go now? We can’t head to the Grand Duke’s townhouse under these conditions. Should we return to the temple where you were staying?”

“No. For now, I think it’s best to camp somewhere not too far from this village for a few days.”

“Pardon?” Serin and Cura exclaimed in unison.

“What are you planning now?” Serin asked.

“We have to wait until the herbs are gathered,” Elena explained calmly.

“And then?”

“Then, we will return to the village and treat the people.”

“My Lady!” Serin cried.

“Lady Elena!” Cura echoed.

They both stared at her, blinking in identical shock as if they had collectively misheard her.

“You know the plague is spreading here!” Serin argued. “And yet you want to treat them yourself? That is absolutely out of the question!”