Chapter 193
“Were you the owner of this room?”
While Kazhan raced across the skies without rest, Ysaris was living a surprisingly ordinary life for someone who’d been kidnapped. Spending her days with Mikael, the only real difference from palace life was being confined to one room.
“The owner had… eclectic tastes.”
Ysaris murmured as she scanned the bookshelf’s mismatched titles. With Mikael napping, she’d hoped to pass time reading—but the subjects were jarringly random.
Music. Mathematics. History. Literature. Magic. Swordsmanship. Economics. Fairy tales…
“…And even romance novels.”
Including one with a particularly risqué cover: ‘How the Head Butler Educates the Maids at Night’
“To display this so brazenly…”
Clicking her tongue, she rearranged the shelf to hide it from Mikael. Though he couldn’t read yet, who knew? If he truly was a genius who remembered everything, he might recall the title and seek it out later.
After shoving the offending books to the back, she selected an herbalism text and settled in—only to glance up when Mikael whimpered in his sleep.
“Mmm… uhn…”
“Mikael? Awake?”
“Nn… no…”
Mumbling incoherently, the boy simply turned over, his breathing steadying. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, his face remained peaceful—reassured by his mother’s presence.
“……”
Ysaris couldn’t tear her gaze away. The urge to smooth his hair, tuck his blanket, or hum a lullaby swelled—but she resisted, not wanting to wake him.
Instead, she refocused on escape plans. That was the best thing she could do for him now.
Yet progress was nonexistent. Three days since the kidnapping, and their routine never varied: meals delivered by the dark mages’ underlings, zero opportunities to explore. She hadn’t even glimpsed the building’s layout.
She’d tried sneaking a peek outside once—but the door refused to open despite the unlocked handle. Some magical barrier required specific conditions to pass. Now she understood Trienne’s confidence in her captivity.
‘Then why bind my hands initially? Fear I’d act out? Or just to bleed me easier?’
A sigh escaped her. Her sole “progress” was coaxing conversation from the young servant who delivered meals—a boy shrouded in black robes, his age unclear but his nervous stutter revealing his youth.
At first tight-lipped, he’d gradually answered trivial questions under her persistent friendliness.
Though he’d bolt at sensitive topics, it was better than nothing.
At least he’s easier to handle than that lunatic Trienne.
Speaking of whom—the man had vanished since taking her blood. Was he busy studying her wedding ring? Or letting her “recover” for more donations?
Given his demeanor, she’d expected daily dagger visits. But logically, keeping her healthy meant more blood in the long run.
…Or so she’d thought, until Trienne barged in unannounced, shattering that assumption.
“Blood regeneration potion! Sourced the ingredients myself. With this, we can harvest every two days!”
“……”
Her glare could’ve melted steel. Unfazed, Trienne beamed.
“A little gratitude would be nice. I lost sleep brewing this!”
“Why should I rejoice over my own suffering?”
“So cold! It’s for your health, Your Majesty~”
She genuinely wondered about his mental wiring. As he prattled on.
“How have you been? Meals tolerable? Room comfortable?”
“For a kidnapping victim? Adequate.”
She bit back the urge to throw him out.
“The food is edible. The room suffices.”
“Wonderful! Then lending my room was worth it!”
Ysaris froze.
Her eyes darted around the chamber before locking onto Trienne.
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