284: Proving trust (part 2)

Proving trust (part 2)

Lanark's sun sank below Adela's window, while Lady de Lanark von Conradie wrestled with her uncertainties, feeling pathetically pulled by the irresistible force that was her husband.1

Is following his lead really so bad?

It shouldn't be.

While she wished he didn't need to test her trust this way, she was deeply committed to their relationship and willing to meet him halfway.

Wearing her riding attire, she retrieved her embalmed dagger from her jewelry box. Her fingers caressed the proud falcon of House de Lanark, drawing strength from its emblem. She pushed aside any lingering guilt regarding her father's edict and slipped the dagger into her waistband.

"You're still hesitant... You're just like your father."

Despite his sharp tone, the sound of his voice sent her heart aflutter. He had been absent for a while.

She turned toward her husband who leaned casually against the door of their room. His dark gaze simultaneously drawing her in and pushing her away. The expression on his face provoked her protective instincts, yet she suppressed her urge to defend her father, for she didn't fully grasp the Archduke's reasoning.

"I am going with you, isn't that what's important?" she retorted with equal sharpness.

Hurt briefly flashed in his brown eyes, which were accentuated by his crisp, white Emorian shirt and brown riding pants, tucked into boots that matched the ones she wore. He held a brown turban in his hand, and when she noticed the bracelet atop it, her frown deepened.

Closing the distance between them in three swift strides, he explained, "We need to hide our identities there. Your hair must be covered at all times. This will serve that purpose."

Slipping the bracelet on her wrist without an introduction, he bit the end of the turban, then began to gather her hair with both gloved hands. His touch was incredibly gentle, far more so than if she had attempted to do it herself.

"Kaiser de Lanark believes so fervently in the Oracle's prophecy that it's clouding his judgment," he continued. "Did you know he was the one keeping the warlock in Lanark just in case that Aldric turned out to be the King from the prophecy?"

Adela's face drained of color at the revelation.

"I'll ask you this only once. Do you, even for a moment, believe that the warlock is the one?"

"No," she replied without hesitation. Her certainty about who the true King in the prophecy was left no room for doubt.

A smile tugged at Egon's lips as he gathered all her hair in one hand and expertly secured the turban. Adjusting the edges, he nodded in satisfaction. His forefinger traced a line down her face, over her white shirt, until it reached the dagger at her waistband.

"This is something you'll never need while I'm around." 

She arched an eyebrow, then raised her wrist, displaying the bracelet as evidence. "You're planning to be far away though, aren't you? Otherwise, how would you explain your request for me to put this horrid thing on?"

Egon didn't spare a glance at the bracelet. Instead, he pulled her hand towards him and kissed her wedding ring with closed eyes.

"It's a necessary evil," he stated, looking out the window. "Andreas should have arrived at the border by now. I will carry you there, and once we cross over, we'll arrange for a camel carriage for the four of us."

A sense of trepidation washed over her. They were consciously defying her father's directive now. But these thoughts quickly left her when Egon's nostrils flared, and for a brief, heart-pounding second, she wondered if he could detect her anxiety by scent.

No, it couldn't be.

"Up you go," he murmured, crouching down and offering his back.

She hesitated for a moment before approaching him, and the next thing she knew, strong arms were securing her beneath her thighs, her front pressed firmly against her husband's broad back.

"Hold on to me as tight as you can," he instructed in a low, familiar tone.

She tightened her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against the warm expanse between his shoulder blades. He smelled so good that she couldn't resist stretching her neck to plant a peck on the back of his neck.

"Close your eyes," he commanded huskily.

The world blurred into a dizzying rush as Adela obeyed her husband's command and closed her eyes tightly. The sensation of speed, like nothing she had ever experienced before, coursed through her body, and she couldn't help but clutch Egon even tighter, her face pressed against his back for safety purposes now.

It was a sensation akin to her first journey through the mana gate, a force that threatened to tear her apart. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

"We are here." 

Egon's voice broke the silence, calm and composed. Adela opened her eyes to find herself standing on the white sands of Latora. She marveled at her husband's incredible physical abilities, his body seemingly unaffected by the exertion.

"Thank you," she wiped away an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow with the back of her thumb.

He smirked, "My pleasure."

Before them stood a carriage unlike any she had seen before, pulled by two white camels, and driven by a Latoran coachman dressed in blue robes that concealed most of his features.

"Where are Andreas and Larissa?" She inquired.

"Inside already."

Her husband guided her towards the waiting carriage, climbing in first to assist her. As she entered, the distinctive scent of camels overwhelmed her senses, causing a momentary discomfort. She wrinkled her nose but found a seat, bracing herself to meet Andreas and Larissa, who were seated across from her. However, when she looked ahead, a chilling wave coursed through her veins.

Andreas, his face reflecting immense relief, sat with a serene expression, gently stroking Larissa's red hair across his lap, her beautiful, peaceful face lost in slumber.

It's implausible that she's sleeping through all of this, at least not naturally.

Another shiver coursed down Adela's spine.

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