191: Beneath the surface

Beneath the surface

1It was likely the most comfortable sleep she had ever experienced in her life, and having it suddenly interrupted was a shame.<ins id="1067137" data-width="308" data-height="298"

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"She's been sleeping for most of the ride," Egon's voice had a diplomatic tone.

But who was he talking to?

"I will take the responsibility of carrying her inside," Arkin's tone held a tinge of worry. "I understand your distress regarding her ordeal, but it would be wise to temper your emotions. There are a lot of people watching us.""

"I'm not just upset about what happened. Unlike how all of you treat her, Adelaide is not the center of the world."

His words were like a lightning bolt piercing her from head to toe. How could he speak so callously of her after all they had shared?

She attempted to recall the moments they had spent together, but a sense of fear enveloped her as the memories eluded her grasp. It felt like losing something of utmost value—the more she tried to cling to those fleeting fragments, the more they slipped away.

"Shi*," Arkin muttered under his breath.  "The Archduke doesn't look happy to see us," he murmured.

Whether it was due to the sudden headache or the disorienting confusion clouding her mind, her father's heavy footsteps made her want to break free from her dazed state, but her efforts proved futile.

…Where am I anyhow?

"Good evening, Your Excellency," Arkin greeted, but the anticipated response from her mate, to whom she felt inexplicably bound, remained absent.

"Why hasn't she emerged yet?"

Her father's voice, marinating with anger, should have jolted her awake. Instead, she felt an overwhelming desire to remain motionless right where she lay.

When was the last time I felt like this?

"Commander! I assigned you a mission to retrieve her since your inadequate ex-platoon failed to follow a direct order regarding her safety. Explain why a man who is neither her husband nor possesses the decency to greet the Archduke of Lanark is accompanying her in the dead of night!" Kaiser huffed and grumbled, "Where is the coachman?!"

"I dismissed him for jeopardizing her safety," Arkin swiftly responded, seizing the opportunity to answer an easy question.

"Adelaide!" Kaiser's voice thundered within the confines of House de Lanark's carriage, a call that should have propelled her to her feet. Yet, she felt no inclination whatsoever to awaken and answer his summons."

Can't you see she has endured unfathomable hardship?" Egon's voice snapped, his tone lowered in a display of controlled anger. "…Your Excellency," he added a moment too late, his voice carrying a rugged, masculine edge.

"Arkin," Kaiser's teeth clenched as he spoke, "Demand that your cousin vacates that doorway this instant. It is enough that you allowed Sir Egon to ride with her in the same carriage right under the gaze of every noble in Lanark. And now, you stand idly by, permitting this blatant insult to your sister's honor?"

"I assure you, no one saw me," Egon's voice sounded composed this time.

While his statement was true—he had drawn the curtains—her father's ears likely interpreted it as no less incriminating than the alternative.

She heard shuffling near the door, and the rope between her and the man she loves extended ever so slightly. "I stood there to prepare you before you saw how she is," Egon explained.

Two more angry steps were followed by a sharp intake of air and then an indignant groan. "What in the world is wrong with her hands?" The Archduke's voice grew hushed.

Arkin urgently interjected, "She disembarked from the ship in this condition."

Ship?

The metallic vessel and the unwelcome events aboard surged into her mind like a torrential downpour of vivid images, leaving no corner untouched.

"No!" she weakly cried, longing to open her eyes and witness something different, but her body remained unresponsive.

"…Is she injured elsewhere?" Kaiser hissed.

Adela took a moment to offer a silent prayer of gratitude that she wasn't.

"Her shoulders bear bruises," Egon's murmurs carried an extra level of darkness.

Come to think of it, she knew precisely how she acquired them—right after delivering a knee strike to Aldric's groin. But when did Egon see them? 

The atmosphere grew oppressively heavy, filled with an ominous silence.

"…Arkin, carry her inside," Kaiser commanded. "Once she is in her bed, request your mother's presence by her side. Do not return until you retrieve Extermizer from my study."

Adela felt on the verge of panic as her father continued.

"Egon."

"Yes," came his flat response to Kaiser's call.

"...I have witnessed enough battles to recognize bloodlust on a man's face."

No reply was forthcoming.

"Aldric is perhaps one of the strongest men alive," Kaiser warned.

"You're the one who said you didn't want to know," Egon retorted cryptically.

"I stand by my statement. You are a good man, that is what matters to me."

"And the warlock? Is he also a good man, Your Excellency?"

Silence once again reigned supreme.

"…Exclude me from your business alliance with him."

"We can discuss business at a later time," Kaiser spoke with a professional tone. "You cannot harm Aldric of Varinthia on Emorian soil. He has diplomatic immunity until I revoke it."

Egon remained silent, yet the air surrounding Adela crackled with animosity.

"You possess intelligence and experience, but it does not mean you know everything… Aldric does not act without calculating at least five moves ahead."

"Perhaps he harbors a death wish," Egon stated in an emotionless tone.

"…Only Extermizer can impede his progress, son."

Son?

Adela's emotions surged within her chest. Never in her life had she heard her father utter that word to anyone. If only Egon comprehended the significance of being addressed in such a manner by the Archduke.

Somebody let out a heavy sigh. "...If you insist on accompanying me, I will not stop you," Kaiser said.

Now was the moment to sit up, to prevent the two most significant men in her life from going where she had suffered mistreatment earlier that day. Yet, her muscles seemed to have relinquished their strength long ago, rendering her incapable of even lifting a finger to halt their departure.

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