Chapter 116

Even with her face veiled, Elise’s charisma radiated, drawing the mercenaries’ stares. Her slender form strained against the thick cloak, and whenever her hushed, gentle voice emerged from beneath the brim of her hat, the room fell silent, ears pricked. Were it not for Luisa and Becky, the youngest, who subdued the men with icy glares, they would have swarmed Elise before they even departed.

“I think… I’ll just head back inside,” Elise stammered. Being surrounded by these large, sword-wielding men was undeniably terrifying. It was a fear she’d forgotten while nestled within the secure walls of Rotiara Castle.

As Elise hurried towards the carriage, a girl materialized and offered her a hand up. “Why travel to Norella when everyone here needs help?”

“Ah, well,” Elise hedged, “I require treatment. I heard there’s a fantastic doctor in Norella.” Her excuse was flimsy, but Luisa seemed to accept it with a curt nod.

“Ah, you’re seeking old Harrison? He is indeed Norella’s best. Though, isn’t his clinic currently closed?”

“Is it? Why’s that?” Concern flickered in Elise’s eyes.

“Because the princess over there is on the brink of death. These days, Harrison is practically a fixture at the Duke’s mansion, their newly appointed physician.”

There could only be one princess in Norella: Genovia Irrien, heir to the Irrien family and future ruler. Genovia on death’s door, Elise thought, a jolt of unease spiking through her. The aftermath of her time at Rotiara, no doubt. Memories of her own helplessness against Genovia surfaced, adding another layer of disquiet. Even with Norella as her destination, she wouldn’t approach the Duke’s mansion. They wouldn’t meet again.

A head popped out from behind the carriage. “Hey, Luisa, was that you chatting with the lady?” It was Ted, the leader of the mercenary group, his beard reeking of vodka. Elise knew northerners drank strong spirits to combat the cold, but a large, drunken swordsman was three times more terrifying.

Elise flinched, and Luisa answered for her. “She’s headed to Norella to see Doctor Harrison. And she’s likely married, or at least has a significant other.”

“Married, you say?” Ted boomed, raising an eyebrow. Elise hesitantly nodded. Appearing married felt safer than being a lone woman without protection.

“Close call then,” Ted chuckled, gesturing with his chin towards the driver’s seat. The young man, feigning disinterest, slumped visibly in his seat, disappointment etched on his face.

“Seems Jacob’s been smitten with the lady – or rather, the wife – since the beginning. Looks like his feelings were shot down before they even took flight.” Ted found this immensely amusing, letting out another hearty laugh and shrugging his shoulders. Naturally, Elise couldn’t share his amusement. A wary glance landed on the girl munching on her sandwich. How did she know I wasn’t single? Was it that obvious…?

Luisa felt the girl’s stare and glanced back. The girl’s gaze lingered on the front of Elise’s cloak, then drifted down to her midsection.

Elise, her hand hidden beneath the cloak, instinctively clutched her stomach. A vivid memory, a dream from a few days ago, inexplicably surfaced in her mind.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” the girl blurted, her voice laced with a hint of suspicion.

Despite knowing it was unlikely, Elise felt a spike of anxiety.

“Regardless,” the girl continued, “sending a sick wife on a winter journey alone… that husband sounds like a real heel.”

“There are… circumstances,” Elise stammered, her voice rough. “We can’t meet right now.” A dull ache settled in her chest. Even after leaving Rotiara, my thoughts keep returning to you.

“Oh, your husband… did he pass away?” The girl’s question, though blunt, revealed a surprising understanding.

The sharp pang in Elise’s heart was quickly replaced by a wave of amusement at the ridiculous misunderstanding. Pass away? No, that’s highly unlikely. If anyone’s dying, it’s probably me…

Ted, misinterpreting her stunned silence, offered a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “No wonder you’re in black, then. A widow, are you? Don’t worry. The world’s a harsh mistress, but you’ll manage on your own. Plenty of good men out there, you’re young and lovely. You’ll find someone new in no time.”

The thought of the near-immortal being reduced to someone who might die young caused a wry smile to play on Elise’s lips.

“Uh… yes, thank you for your concern,” Elise mumbled, forcing a smile.

“Your husband must have been so weak… what a loss,” Ted continued, oblivious to the absurdity.

Was there ever a more incongruous term for Rezette, the nearly immortal being? Awkwardness settled over Elise’s features. 

Ted’s rambling condolences did little to ease her discomfort. In the distance, Jacob’s face seemed to brighten considerably.

The unwelcome attention was suffocating. Just then, a familiar voice cut through the tension. 

“Lena, come along.”

Becky, having nimbly dismounted from the carriage, offered Elise a supportive arm. “We should be on our way. Looks like snow’s on the horizon.”

A subtle authority laced Becky’s words. Ted, catching the shift, mumbled an “Oh, right,” and resumed his position at the reins. The carriage door shut with a soft thud, and the wheels began to roll again.

Luisa, now perched on the driver’s seat, noticed Jacob’s reddened ears. With a knowing smirk, she leaned in and offered a bit of advice. “Forget it, kid. Based on her nausea, I’d say that lady’s pregnant.”

***

With Becky’s help, Elise hoisted herself back into the carriage and slumped against the plush seat. Her hand fluttered over her churning stomach, and she shot Becky, who sat opposite her, a withering glare.

“It’s not fair,” Elise muttered.

“What is?” Becky inquired.

“Why is it that only I attract so much attention?”

Here she was, stuck in a carriage, with a dragon – a literal DRAGON that once terrorized Grandel – perched right beside her. The dragon, she thought with a frustrated huff, must be concealing its immense power with incredible skill. If it could do that, why couldn’t it teach her the same trick?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Becky said, offering her a pouch. “But for now, focus on getting some food in your stomach. You’ll faint if you keep skipping meals.”

Elise took the pouch reluctantly. The sight of the dark, dried meat chunks did little to quell her nausea. She picked out a few pieces of fruit and pushed the pouch aside, her appetite failing her.

Perhaps, she mused, the constant confinement of the carriage and the lack of stimulation were exacerbating her motion sickness. She desperately needed a distraction.

Elise hugged her knees, curling into a tight ball, and murmured in a hushed tone, “Tell me your story.”

Becky’s eyes widened in surprise. Elise, however, was past playful jabs at the dragon’s charade. Half-closing her eyes, she spoke slowly, “When I was young, I devoured the founding myth of Argan in the chapel basement, rereading it like a cherished fairy tale. But those legends were one-sided, written solely from Ignashio the Recorder’s human perspective. There’s more to the story.”

The founding history of Argan was riddled with gaps. Ignashio, a meticulous historian, stripped accounts of emotional nuance and embellishment, focusing solely on documented events. Decades of shared experiences between humans and dragons were coldly labeled as “crossed affections.”

“Did you truly love him?” Elise pressed, her voice low.

“Huh?” The question seemed to catch the dragon off guard. 

“Did you love him deeply? So much that you bound yourself?”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if processing an unfamiliar language. Becky folded her hands on her knees, remaining silent for a long moment. Finally, a gentle smile spread across her face. “Yes,” he admitted softly, “I loved him very much. It frightened me.”

“Why?” Elise whispered, her curiosity piqued. “What scared you?”

“The inevitable separation of death,” Becky replied, her voice laced with a deep, resonating regret. “I feared I might hasten his demise with my own strength.”

Humans were so fragile, the dragon seemed to lament. The thought was barely audible. “That’s when I first truly understood fear. To love a mortal being… such a terrifying and heartbreaking thing. The constant fear of causing harm with the slightest carelessness…” 

“When I told him about it,” Becky continued, “he said he didn’t mind.” 

“…He didn’t mind?” 

“He said he’d accept that burden willingly, a small price for having me by his side. He even said he wouldn’t fear death if it came from me. It was…unbearable.”

Elise remained silent, the weight of the dragon’s words settling heavily between them.

“So,” Becky continued, her voice low, “I chose to share the power the gods bestowed upon me to rule this land. I shared it with humans, and in turn, I caged myself. I couldn’t bear the thought of harming that beautiful boy with my own strength. I vowed to keep him safe in my embrace, to shield him until his final breath.”

Thus, the taboo was born.

“I bind myself with chains so that I cannot harm you. You will always be safe with me, Gallian.”

The promise, a whisper from a bygone era, a testament to their profound love. It was a beautiful relic of those bygone days, and the dragon, even now, couldn’t bring himself to break the vow.

For when Gallian died, and the faces of his descendants slowly diverged from his own, the memory of the sculptor and his creation was all that remained. The dragon, with Ivetta’s face, wore a dreamy, faraway look.

“I was a towering cliff,” she murmured, “and that boy, a sculptor with a hammer and chisel. Every moment with him etched his beautiful face, his gentle heart, his captivating voice onto my very being. He sculpted me from an immortal being into a mortal, from a divine instrument of the gods to a dragon bound by a human’s touch. A magnificent fall, Elise,” she concluded, her voice laced with a melancholic awe. “Of course, at the bottom of every endless fall…there is always an abyss.”