The Villainess was Loved

Chapter Ninety-Three: Baby Got Back

Leon Tagen

“If there is one thing I must apologise for, it is bringing you to the royal palace.”

No expression crossed Leon’s face at the sight of his father’s deathbed laments.

After a falling out with the Emperor, his father’s investments turned to ash before him.

A cough escaped the man on the bed. He was too young for the status ‘fallen’, yet too old for anything else.

“I am sorry. At this time, I pass nothing but debt and responsibilities too heavy to shoulder alone, rather than passing on wealth.”

He took a deep breath, yet it sounded eerily like his last.

“My boy. My strong boy. Why is it that I have nothing but regret to offer you? I have called your mother, brother and sisters, peppered them in poems of my eternal love, yet for you, my eldest, my heir…I whisper lamentations?”

“I am so-,”

“Enough, father. Save your strength.”

Leon finally interjected his father’s monologue.

Yet even that did not stop the older man from talking.

“Do not speak of your gifts to any outsider, of its nature or otherwise. They will use you, then discard you. I know you wish to reclaim our name, but let it fall. Fade like the blisters of the sun during winter. This curse will make us enslaved to the throne for generations.”

“Fathe-,”

“Please, keep your brothers and sisters away from the throne. Refuse any proposals offered in the same manner. Find a way to live free, even in debt.”

The feeble man on the bed pointed to the drawer at those words.

“In that drawer, there is a key to a house in the village registered under your mother’s maiden name. When the debtors come to claim everything, go there and start anew. Keep your-”

Instead of more idealistic instructions spoken in such haste that to him, it felt gibberish, his father broke into a fit of harsh coughs that drew blood from him.

No physician on call could be summoned; the maids had long fled with the silverware, and his siblings were too young to be of help.

On the other hand, Mother left for a moment of rest from being by his side for more hours than she had to herself.

‘ What should I do?’ ‘What should I do next?’

Were the questions racing in his mind? All he knew were swords!

“Mother, come quick!”

He yelled, but it was no use. He was convinced she was asleep; then again, father’s coughs were louder than his cry.

Finally, the need for the questions, panic and haste left. Father collapsed lifeless in a puddle of his sweat after a harrowing deep breath.

It wasn’t until he registered to be a knight that the reality of his father’s words claimed him.

The throne belonged to vipers. Each political step, publicised as democratic, was nothing but a strategic appeal.

Each death grew accounted for; each sinister smile followed traces of dead bodies, and each affair held ominous roots at attempted control.

It was too much.

The truths that he had witnessed were too…much.

If the Countess kept her word and sold or traded him, did that mean the throne would imprison him for the advantages of his gifts?

Perhaps force William, his brother, down the same track. Breed his sisters to produce male heirs for the continuation of the gifts?

Gifts…no, not a gift, but the Tagen curse because he made a mistake?

‘No…no!’

He would do anything in his power to protect them.

So in his fast sobered state, he kneeled to the Countess, then met her gaze.

“Please, countess, I beg you to grant me a chance.”

“This is ridiculous! He is a spy?!”

The first prince was quick on his heels in objection to his plea, a plea that matched the Countess’s request.

*

Arusei Evergreen

“Enough, your highness, pardon my curtness, but this is not an open debate.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and turned to the man on his knees.

“We shall speak tomorrow, Tagen. Your highness, perhaps it will be best if you and your aide go to sleep. As you said earlier, it is late.”

“Have you lost your mind? You cannot consider this scoundrel an ally!!”

I did not reply, merely gestured for Tagen to stand and began clearing the living room space.

After noticing I had little intention of answering his question, the first prince rushed to my side and gripped my arm tightly to force my gaze to meet his only this time…

“Mmmh!”

He let out a low surprised grunt.

“What is this?”

He glared at the bloody, humungous thorn protruding through the centre of his palm.

As though he had never before been injured, he followed the steady drip of blood to the white marble flooring.

“That’s…impossible…”

Stanley muttered as he tried to get a better angle on the scene unfolding before him.

‘Oh? Baby is on my side?’

‘But this isn’t the first time the first prince has held me roughly…is it his intention taken into consideration?’

‘Did he intend to harm me?’

‘No…he values ‘his kin’ too much, but what has changed if that is not the case?’

As the random thoughts raced through my mind, the thorn slowly receded into the smoothness of my hand.

“We had a deal, your highness. I am sorry I shared my situation with you. I was panicked, and that made me thoughtless.”

“…is it not right for my future wife to share things with me?”

He seemed as though he wanted to ask more, perhaps about the wound, but chose it best to follow my lead.

“On various matters, of course. But on matters like these….”

I waved my free hand over the scene before capturing his much larger and injured hand in both hands.

“Why not on matters like this?”

He squirmed slightly, perhaps uncomfortable with both the pain and the gaping wound.

Considering the thorn shattered the bones in his hands, he was handling this well… better than Finor.

“Because, your highness…”

A warm green glow brightened from my hands, and his eyes widened at the sight of his receding wound.

“Discussing matters like this grants you the impression that I value your opinion on matters around Clay politics when such is far from the truth. I will not be made into a liar.”

The wound closed, and I could no longer stand the heat radiating from his hand, so I dropped it.

“For that reason, your highness, you must excuse us.”

I curtsied, then turned to Leon.

“Go to bed.”

‘You should not be alone with the first prince.’

I hoped he read my mind. But, whether he did or did not, he bowed all the same and left to his room.

“Countess.”

“It is late, your highness. Tomorrow.”

“When will you address me by my name?”

The question threw me off guard, mainly because I had every intention to hold on to my grudge, yet still, the emotion in his voice willed every cell in my body to meet his gaze.

More than angry that I drew his blood he seemed bewildered and slightly hurt (?)

‘What the hell are you playing at?’

“It will not be for a while, your highness. I dare not forget myself.”

‘A repeat of what happened with Étienne? No, thank you.’

With that response, I turned and entered the comforts of my room.

*

*

*

Rheyes Kerhid Norvig Yarez

“Can humans heal?”

“I did not even know that there was anything that could permeate dragon skin.”

Stanley mused in the silence they were left in once the party had ended.

Rheyes knew it; he was confident it would be beneficial to be around the Countess. But not to this petrifying extent.

No sentient species other than elves could use healing magic that fast; rather, even divine magic required a series of chants.

But there had been none flowing from her mouth.

He settled his mind on the image of her wine-coloured lips and the light way in which her much smaller hand held his.

‘What the hell is going on?’

They should have fastened their wedding plans before the proper revision of their contract and, at the same time, gotten rid of the Knight, but instead, she stabbed him with a thorn.

She, ‘a human’ stabbed him, ‘a dragon.’

“Tell me, Stanley, outside of elves, is there another specie that controls or communicates with plants?”

“Witches, but that is more of…enchantment, mmm Fairies, but they just like tricking strangers, leshy….wendigos….”

“I did not mean that you list them. I hoped you would tell me where you fancy she fits.”

Rheyes rolled his head back to straighten his stiffening neck muscles.

Every time he spoke with her, more questions piled up.

‘Why would a woman of such strength collapse into his hands at Étienne’s engagement ball?’

“I don’t know, perhaps half-elf?”

Stanley answered finally, then continued.

“She lacks the elven characteristics, so she cannot be a full-blown elf. You know, pointy ears, ethereal beauty and the likes. N-not saying that she is not beautiful, but her beauty is more bold and edgy than…soft and-”

“Stanley?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Shut up.”

“Happy to.”

After a much needed moment of silence, Rheyes spoke up once again.

“Can you look into this?”

“I already gave you the information I dug up on her; nothing came up past when she was six years old; then again, she wasn’t a noble, so hiding her identity was easier. I can ask around in the slums she hails, but I need her mother’s name so that my questions don’t sound like snooping. There is only enough that coin can buy, but to those rolling in depravity like where she is said to hail…they might harbour a stronger sense of camaraderie.”

“I will ask, but in case she lies. Search as well.”

“Understood.”

Rheyes stared at his hands once more. Not even a scar remained.

It was odd; could a human achieve such a feat?

A dragon could only be pierced or killed by a weapon made from either their own scales or their leader’s scales. All dragon leaders are expected to submit at least five pieces of their scales to the royal family to pledge loyalty, but he had long switched his with another dragon’s scale.

He was assured that he had no other weaknesses yet…

A frown blessed his forehead.

‘What did this mean?’