Chapter 26
Just as Elia was about to speak, men dressed in the blue uniforms of the knights bowed their heads before her. Their tone was polite and respectful, yet carried an oddly coercive edge.
“By whose authority?”
Elia snapped, sharply turning her head. Her eyes narrowed tightly, clearly showing her displeasure at the situation.
“There’s no time to delay. Please come with us.”
Despite Elia’s obvious irritation, they did not back down. Even if she tried to flee on horseback, they seemed determined to chase her down to fulfill their lord’s orders. Yet, surrendering obediently to Cyrone’s command was something Elia’s pride would not allow.
“Miss.”
One knight spoke sharply, as if urging there was no time to waste. He grabbed the reins just as Elia seemed about to bolt. Then, Rias gently took hold of Elia’s hand.
“Elia.”
Rias slowly shook his head and said,
“Running away like this isn’t a good solution.”
“……”
Eventually, Elia’s hand went limp. Rias leaned in close enough so the knights couldn’t hear and whispered,
“It’s okay. I’ll go with you. I’ll be right outside the door, so don’t worry too much.”
If Elia fled like this, things would spiral completely out of control. When it came to Elia, Cyrone had already lost all reason and would rampage wildly. Rias knew too well what Elia meant to Cyrone.
‘Maybe that’s why he wants to take her all the more.’
Rias gently pulled Elia into his embrace. Softly, so she could get used to this warmth, becoming even more tamed by him.
“I’m here for you, Elia.”
Rias squeezed the delicate shoulder resting against his chest tightly.
* * *
Cyrone exhaled lowly. A chill crept through his entire body. He quietly repeated the words Elia had just spoken to him.
“Why do you always make me regret this? Why have you changed like this?”
His grip on the reins tightened fiercely. His insides felt like they were twisting and falling apart. He had endured it all only for her, changed only for her. And now, all she could say to him was… such absurd nonsense.
“Your Highness, the palace is near.”
Nielsen’s voice broke Cyrone’s thoughts.
At last, Cyrone loosened his grip on the reins. The horse, which had been galloping fiercely, reared and slowed its pace.
The sun was already setting, and night stars had begun to appear. The horse’s head was approaching Welrod Palace, and lamps lit the path ahead of the procession.
“Tch…”
Cyrone finally removed the protective ring from his finger and frowned. Then, as if remembering something, he let out a short, mischievous smile curl at the corner of his mouth.
“Sir Reiffers is coming.”
After the intense hunt, Nielsen was still fanning himself vigorously, trying to cool down the lingering heat.
The knights’ faces were soaked with sweat, but not a single ray of sunlight had touched Cyrone’s clear complexion. Watching that pristine face, Nielsen thought to himself that Cyrone must be of a completely different breed altogether.
“Yes. They say he’s expected to arrive in the capital around next week.”
Nielsen quickly approached Cyrone’s side, nodding slowly as he continued.
“It’s been almost a year.”
Despite Nielsen’s words, Cyrone showed no reaction. Nielsen glanced cautiously, feeling a strange unfamiliarity despite seeing Cyrone daily. Especially on cold nights like this, that distance felt even greater.
“Caber Reiffers.”
Finally, Cyrone murmured quietly. Head of Hyposis, the union of the empire’s most powerful dukes and noble houses, including the Reiffers family. Father of Elia Reiffers and also…
Cyrone twirled his whip slowly toward the empty air, seemingly lost in deep thought. The sharp whistle of the whip cut through the wind all the way to the rear of the procession.
“This should be interesting. I wonder what that old man’s up to now.”
Cyrone laughed dryly. Hearing the name Reiffers, Nielsen hesitated briefly as if recalling something. He rifled through his clothes and pulled out a letter he had been hiding for days.
“My lord. The Empress —or rather, the deposed Empress sent this.”
Cyrone’s gaze dropped to Nielsen’s hand. His eyes were cold and devoid of any emotion.
“What does it matter what she’s called? She’s a criminal anyway. Call her Loran Hestia.”
Cyrone’s blunt words made Nielsen clear his throat awkwardly. Loran Hestia was the woman who had become the deposed Empress years ago and was now imprisoned in the Iron Tower. Cyrone’s mother.
Receiving the letter, Cyrone furrowed his brow slightly. The handwriting was brutal and chaotic, hardly befitting a former Empress. Moreover, the content was a jumbled mess of words that made no sense.
[Cyrone, will you abandon me too? People say I’m mad, but I…]
After reading that much, Cyrone crumpled the paper without hesitation.
“She seems to be getting worse and worse.”
Watching Cyrone silently, Nielsen added quietly. His voice was so cautious it barely reached Cyrone’s ear.
“Burn it.”
The letter was tossed away carelessly. Nielsen caught it just in time and called over a knight holding a lamp.
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