Chapter 76
If Grace was truly in the Taran Kingdom, and the one protecting her was Prince Rasil, then Angela had intended to say, “Let’s go together, take them out, and come back.”
But Kalian, who was bundled up tight with consideration for Angela, had unusually cut her off and spoken first—apparently to elaborate at length on how he would go alone and return.
Anger flared in her eyes as she looked at Kalian. Angela reached straight for the bottle. She grabbed the one Kalian had been drinking from moments ago and gulped it down straight from the bottle.
It was fairly strong liquor, so Kalian tried to stop her, but Angela raised her hand to block his approach. In an instant, she emptied about half of what was left, slammed the bottle down with a thud, and looked at Kalian.
“Why do I have to be left out when it’s my business?”
Even after suddenly chugging the alcohol like that, Angela asked with an expression and tone showing not a hint of intoxication. The sharp question mark pierced into Kalian.
However, Kalian had no intention of yielding on this matter either.
“I told you not to throw yourself into danger.”
“From the way you’re saying that, it seems you do realize that the place where Grace is is dangerous. That’s a relief.”
The sarcasm that had recently vanished from Angela’s tone popped out abruptly. She had wanted to show Kalian only the good sides of herself, but it was all ruined now.
“I am a knight. There is no battlefield that isn’t dangerous. It’s always been risky, and I’ve always come back alive. It will be the same this time.”
“But that’s not just any dangerous battlefield—it’s a battlefield with Grace on it.”
“It’s just one more slightly stronger weapon. Nothing different.”
Kalian was being stubborn, even though he surely knew that wars could be won or lost because of that one weapon. He was drawing a firm line that he would absolutely not take Angela with him.
“Even if we don’t encounter her there, if Grace sets her mind to it, she can invade my dreams and trample me anytime.”
The corners of Kalian’s eyes twitched.
“In the midst of all this, if even you aren’t by my side, I won’t know what to do. I’ll lose my way. You’re always the one who opens the path for me.”
At those words that were like a confession, Kalian stared intently at Angela before pulling her into a precious embrace. A chill colder than a northern blizzard was drawn into his chest. Holding that freezing cold that made his teeth chatter, Kalian said,
“I’m scared that I might not be able to protect you from a flying blade—that’s why. You know, don’t you? That I’m a coward who cries easily.”
He said it, but it was no use. Angela was looking at him with a face that said she wouldn’t budge an inch. Kalian had thought he was the one who had resolved not to back down, but it seemed his resolve was weaker than Angela’s.
The fierce energy emanating from her small frame finally brought Kalian to his knees.
“……Don’t stray more than three steps from my side. You have to promise me that.”
It was an absurd demand. Kalian probably didn’t really believe it could be done either. That’s why Angela nodded easily.
It was two more days before Mary, who had been completely forgotten, returned to the Florence estate. She was thoroughly sulking, exaggerating that she thought she’d end up buried at the Bilton estate, so to appease her, Angela had to try on and take off dresses six or seven times as Mary wished.
“Ah, that’s right!”
Mary, who had been bouncing around excitedly saying she wanted to draw pictures of them all, suddenly stopped dead and looked at Angela.
“I dreamed about you, miss. In the dream, you said you weren’t coming to get me, and I was bawling that I hated you.”
‘Hehe—but saying I hate you was a lie.’ As Mary smiled awkwardly, Angela smiled back with a grin.
* * *
“You’ve gone over three steps.”
“One, two, three.”
At Kalian’s words, Angela strode forward with large steps and arrived right in front of him.
“See? It’s exact.”
She was bold about it, but Kalian’s reaction was lukewarm.
“It has to be normal steps—that was practically a long jump.”
Kalian lightly backed away three steps from Angela. They were narrower than his usual stride.
“This is about three of Angela’s steps.”
With the already complicated matter of figuring out how to deal with Grace weighing on her mind, upon arriving in the Taran Kingdom, Kalian was insisting they practice not straying more than three steps from him.
“Remember this. This distance.”
Angela had no idea why this was so important that it required practice, but just in case he might try to leave her behind, she was diligently humoring him and practicing.
When Kalian moved this way, she followed this way; when he moved that way, she followed that way. It felt uncomfortably like a hunting dog being trained, so Angela placed both hands on her hips and glared at Kalian.
But Kalian twisted his body in yet another direction, and now Angela’s feet naturally moved to follow him. It seemed the habit had already set in.
Feeling wronged, Angela shifted her glaring eyes from Kalian to her own legs. But of course, her emotionless legs had no idea.
When she fell asleep, she was afraid Grace might come; when she woke, she was anxious at the thought of going to find Grace. Yet Kalian was just doing this, which made her frustrated.
Finally, on the third day, unable to bear it anymore, Angela confronted Kalian.
“How long do we have to do this?”
“Until you’re used to it.”
Kalian’s reply was nonchalant. But even now, if Kalian so much as shifted slightly, Angela would reflexively move right up to his vicinity. If she got any more used to it, she’d be like Mary chasing after her.
“I’m plenty used to it already.”
“Even if you suddenly open your eyes while sleeping, you need to be within my three-step range.”
“So……!”
As Angela was about to ask why, Kalian suddenly drew his sword. Knowing it wasn’t aimed at her, she wasn’t startled, but Kalian’s next action was even stranger.
Without warning, Kalian tossed the sword far across the floor. Clang! As the sword fell, Kalian’s body closed in, nearly covering Angela. Only then did Angela, with wide surprised eyes, look up at him as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.
“If I happen to drop my sword, as long as you’re within three steps, I can protect you like this. So even if it’s annoying, practice a bit more.”
Kalian kissed Angela’s cheek and pulled away, stepping over to pick up the sword he had thrown. Angela trotted after him, entering the zone he had mentioned. And then she wrapped her arms around his waist in a full embrace.
“This is too close.”
Kalian pointed it out in a voice laced with laughter. Even so, Angela didn’t pull away.
“I’m not going just to be a burden, so you don’t need to swear so fervently to protect me. You might hate it, but I’m learning a few things myself.”
Kalian’s eyes narrowed as he realized what Angela meant by “a few things” from the Dawson family’s secret arts. Still, he didn’t scold her as harshly as he once might have. He was simply confirming that she was truly fine with it, and deciding to trust her. After all, when it came to this power, Angela herself—the one who possessed it—would naturally know it better than he did.
Even so.
“Then promise me.”
Kalian extended his pinky finger toward Angela. She stared at his finger, waiting for him to specify what the promise was about.
At that, Kalian forcibly took her hand and hooked their pinkies together. It was a coerced vow.
“If it seems dangerous, run away fast. If I get hurt right in front of you, ignore it. If there’s a safe spot, claim it first.”
“That’s telling me to be a coward.”
Angela tried to yank her trapped pinky free. But Kalian wouldn’t let go for anything.
“Yes, survive like a coward. Then I’ll manage to stay alive somehow, too.”
Kalian’s gaze was earnest. Only when she fully met those eyes did Angela truly realize they were heading off to a battlefield.
* * *
Rasil entered Grace’s room and shed the clothes he was wearing amid the absurd heat. No matter that the Taran Kingdom was a cold country, stoking the fire to this extent was no different from starting a blaze.
His face twisting in a deep frown, Rasil scanned the room for Grace. She was sprawled out long on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
At a glance, she looked as if she were lying there drained of vitality, just like before, but Rasil knew that the energy she desired had already seeped into that body of hers.
“Is it summer only in here?”
Tossing his discarded overcoat onto the bed, Rasil approached Grace. She glanced sidelong at him from her languid pose, then cast her eyes toward the fireplace.
“I like it warm.”
Grace’s words only deepened the furrow in Rasil’s brow. This wasn’t merely warm. He’d just entered the room moments ago, and already sweat was trickling down, soaking his nape.
Yet Grace wore a composed expression, as if to say what was a little heat like this? Her skin showed not a single bead of perspiration, almost inhuman. Ah, right. It wasn’t human at all.
Catching his own slip, Rasil perched on the arm of the sofa where Grace lay and looked down at her.
“What are you planning to do now?”
At Rasil’s question, Grace looked up at him as if to ask what he meant.
“Now that you’ve regained your power, you’ll have to help me smash Phaelon to pieces, right?”
“Ah…….”
Grace curled up a little, as if she’d just remembered something she’d forgotten. A woman who, not long ago, had been on the brink of death. Rasil swallowed his anger with effort and explained the external situation.
“My position isn’t great these days. Everyone’s in league with Phaelon, brainwashing themselves that if we fight, we’ll lose. Thanks to you stirring up chaos in their heads, I thought my father would approve the expedition—but he’s taken to his sickbed instead. Now these incompetent fools are banding together to push for my dethronement. Those bastard whelps.”
To Rasil, his numerous brothers were nothing but bandits eyeing his throne. The moment an opportunity like this arose, they were scheming to shove him aside. His words turned coarse without him realizing it.
“It’d be better if Father just passed away, then I could…….”
“Would it?”
Grace, who had been lying still all along, pushed herself upright. The eyes that had once seemed doomed to fade in sickly weakness now brimmed with vitality.
She’d said regaining half her power was all, but what would happen if she recovered even more? Rasil smiled as he imagined that power being wielded for his sake.
“Yes. Make me king.”
* * *
Mary was pulling a long face again, crying that they were leaving her behind somewhere. It had taken some effort to dissuade her pleas to come along before boarding the carriage. She’d probably show up bawling in his dreams tonight, wailing that she hated him.
The flags of the Taran Kingdom and the Phaelon Empire fluttered side by side from the carriage, swaying in the breeze. Officially, they were a diplomatic delegation invited by the Third Prince of Taran.
But inside the carriage rode knights prepared to sever Prince Rasil’s head. The jolting carriage would need a fair stretch of time to reach its destination.
Angela had brought along the Dawson family’s secret tome, clutching it close. Kalian hadn’t been thrilled about it, but his sense of responsibility was heavy—he felt that Grace, who wielded a formless power, was his to confront.
There was a high chance she had a body that wouldn’t yield to blades, just like his own; in which case, she might feel the pain but wouldn’t breathe her last from Kalian’s sword.
About an hour after the carriage set off, Angela quietly leaned her body against Kalian’s shoulder.
It wasn’t from fatigue. The thought of going to meet Grace in person stirred an unfamiliar tremor at the tip of her heart.
Kalian simply stroked her hair in silence. He gathered a few strands between his fingers, rolling them gently against his fingertips before letting them slip free, over and over. Angela let out a soft chuckle at the playful gesture.
That was when it happened.
Clop-clop, clop-clop, clop-clop, clop-clop! The thunderous sound of hooves at breakneck speed caught up to the carriage in an instant.
Moments later, the procession heading to Taran came to a collective halt. Kalian immediately stepped down from the carriage. Angela followed right behind him.
As they stood watching to see what was happening, Tristan, who led the procession from the front, galloped up on horseback and dismounted before them.
His face was utterly downcast. The kind of expression that bred the darkest premonitions.
And on the horse that followed him, a black standard was planted. Everyone present knew what that signified.
“King Kanak of Taran passed away two days ago.”
The ominous foreboding had become stark reality.
