🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 31
Barely managing to stop laughing, Tris finally asked,
“Feeling a little better?”
Peta nodded, her face pale.
Tris looked around. They still had a ways to go before entering the village. Having passed the Valley of Wind meant they were practically there, but Tris had no intention of lingering. He climbed back onto his horse.
“Where are you going?”
“Wintergarden.”
“Rest a bit and go together.”
“No. You guys rest more, then head into the village. Get an inn and wait for me.”
Sean staggered as he spoke.
“Boss, let’s go with you.”
Boss. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t call him “brother.” So the title settled into “boss.”
“No. You come later.”
No sooner had he finished than Tris bolted off on horseback. Thudthudthudthud. As his figure rapidly receded, the three flopped back onto the ground.
“Lon, you alive?”
“Yes……”
“Good. It’ll all be fine now. Let’s rest a little.”
“Thank you.”
Three full weeks of brutal traveling. Sleeping out in the open, going hungry, suffering together—it changed the way they looked at each other. The cold nights broke apart status and titles, forcing them to curl up as one to sleep. Hot water became a priceless luxury.
The staggering wall of class that once towered between them had begun to crumble. Now that it finally sank in that they’d left the estate for good, their attention turned naturally toward the future. Mercenaries. Whenever they happened to stay in a village per Tris’s orders, they spread rumors through the innkeeper.
After running like that, they arrived at Wintergarden—only to nearly die at the final stretch. They had never known windstorms could be that terrifying. To be flung into the air without even dying first. But perhaps because they endured it together, they felt a fierce sense of camaraderie.
While the others rested as if without a care in the world, Tris rode nonstop and passed straight through the village. He crossed the drawbridge without slowing. Wintergarden came into view. Oh… Words slipped out on their own. To see the fortress-like castle he’d only heard about… Thudthudthudthud.
Once he crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle gardens, his eyes narrowed. A horse stood there, caked in dust. Worn saddle, mane completely unkempt. Clearly a warhorse, but the hooves were worn down. Damn it.
Tris leapt from his horse. Exactly what he feared—someone had arrived first.
He tied the reins and approached the door. It was open. Instantly his nerves sharpened. Anyone invited would have shut it. But it was open. With his hand resting on his sword hilt, Tris strode inside. A cold voice echoed across the hall.
“Get up! I did not grant you a seat!”
A ringing voice steeped in winter. It could only be Emblin Akkers. Even far from the capital, she hadn’t changed at all. The dignity of noble blood clung to her.
But when he saw her, Tris doubted his own eyes. Emblin? Was it really her? The simple, almost girlish figure seated ahead—was that truly Emblin?
The Emblin he remembered always had her hair braided so tightly it looked painful, making her seem older and haughtier. Her dresses were always vivid colors, made of the finest fabrics. Unshakably arrogant, no matter what anyone said.
The woman before him was nothing like that. Soft brown hair cascading past her waist, a plain brown cotton dress with not a single decoration. But her eyes matched his memories—cold, deep, reminiscent of a dark blue sea…
A pulse rippled through a heart that had never wavered. Thump… Tris stared at her, transfixed. Time, place, even who was present slipped from his mind. The woman he once knew felt like an illusion. He couldn’t remember her. Meeting Emblin like this felt like the first time. Thump… His dark blue eyes deepened. He couldn’t look away.
Emblin had seen him too. She showed no reaction at all. She only looked back at him with unshaken eyes—proud and elegant. Yet Tris’s mouth went dry. His fingers tingled; his chest ached. A shiver raced down his spine.
Never had they held each other’s gaze this long. Never had he stared so intently.
Every time he went to the capital, Tris never stayed long at the castle—he spent his time outside. Emblin showed herself only at banquets, used by the Akkers king as a display piece.
Even in those brief glimpses, she left a searing impression. Just then—
“You stubborn thing. I’m going to take all of this anyway. Heh heh heh.”
In a blink—fwip! Thud!
The man seated there didn’t even grasp what happened. Something pricked him, then warmth trickled down his side. When he touched it, he shot to his feet and toppled over.
Tris’s throwing knife had pierced the chair and stabbed the man’s back. The man erupted in curses and screams. Damn it! Bastard! Who the hell—?!
Tris scowled and kicked him in the face. Whack! Peace at last.
He turned to Emblin. Her gaze was still perfectly calm. The fragile girl he once glimpsed—must’ve been a dream. Suddenly he wondered whether she even possessed emotions at all.
He tossed out words like a stone into water.
“I’ve arrived, Emblin. I wasn’t too late, was I?”
She stared back. His tone—familiar, almost the way one would speak to a woman. Meaning…
Emblin set down her knife and answered coldly,
“A little late.”
Tris nudged the collapsed man aside with his boot, dragged a chair over, and sat.
“But I made it in time. That’s what matters.”
Something about that irritated her—sharp and raw. She bit back, almost accusing:
“Your lateness caused me no end of trouble.”
Their eyes collided in midair—dark blue and turquoise. Neither blinked, studying the other. Finally, Tris spoke.
“Sounds like you want an apology.”
Hearing it aloud, she realized she did. A new relationship with Tris—one she needed to guide the way she wanted. Anything else would end in tragedy, like Meryl.
She said quietly,
“Yes.”
Tris let out a short incredulous laugh. Emblin said nothing, watching him. She’d never really spoken to him before—never learned what kind of man he was. From her brief experience now, she thought: as long as he wasn’t like Touk, that would be enough. The thought irritated her. Was that truly all she dared hope for…?
“My apologies for being late.”
Her eyes widened on instinct.
“I won’t be late next time.”
Tris didn’t look away. For the first time, emotion flickered in her eyes. The black pupils trembled, widening just slightly—but that was all. A sudden urge surged in him to reach out and touch her, just to see what happened.
Tris tested her.
“Still… you surprised me. I didn’t expect you to be so composed.”
Emblin’s lips curved coldly.
“So you heard.”
“When I left Acre territory, I heard from a merchant headed to the capital.”
Later, in random villages, he’d also heard rumors—Meryl’s death and the Akkers king preparing to remarry.
Emblin murmured,
“I see. Then everyone must know by now.”
Her gaze slid to the fallen man. He’d probably come chasing rumors as well—planning an abduction marriage, no doubt. Tris had arrived just in time. Otherwise, she would’ve been hounded without end.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“No. Just a scratch. Want me to finish it? Could arrange that.”
Emblin doubted her ears. He accepted her words without hesitation—asked no reason. A strange sensation crept across her skin. No one had ever listened like that. She couldn’t speak for a moment.
Tris stood, yanked his knife free. The man groaned awake—only to meet icy blue-black eyes. He screamed, “Aaaagh!”
Tris growled low,
“Scream again and I’ll kill you.”
The man went ashen.
Tris looked back at Emblin. Something sparked in her eyes—as though he were waiting for her opinion. Why? He would soon be the owner here. Why ask her…? She had never once spoken her will freely. Emblin’s life had never been hers.
Her lips closed.
