Chapter 29
Gerald bent low and peered ahead of Ariella.
“In my eyes, there’s nothing…”
She grew anxious and kicked at the small stone jutting up from the ground.
“This one.
This one right here.”
“Ah… yes.
I see it.”
“I can’t possibly keep walking forward with such a huge rock in my way.
Would you move it aside for me?”
“…Pardon?”
“Did you not hear me?
Or are you disobeying my order?”
“N-no, of course not.
I would never.”
He bent lower still and began to dig the stone free.
The absurd order made Ariella’s ears flush red.
Still, she tilted her chin upward with shameless composure.
How many strange nobles existed in this world?
This was merely a moderate level of madness.
When the stone finally came free, it turned out to be buried deeper than expected.
That much, at least, was a relief.
“To think it was this large.
For a noblewoman like me, stepping over such a dangerous rock—no, a boulder—could have been disastrous.
Don’t you agree?”
“Eh? Well, you could have just gone around…”
When Gerald stated the obvious, the fellow squire beside him nudged his ribs.
“I do not know how to go around.
How could a mere rock block my path?”
“Y-yes.
Indeed, Your Highness.”
Gerald bent even lower.
No doubt he was cursing his poor luck inside.
“I owe you a great debt.”
“Oh, it’s really nothing—”
“Nothing?
Are you treating my life as something trivial?”
“No, not at all, I was only—”
“Your Highness!
No, Your Imperial Highness!”
As Gerald continued the pointless sparring of words, Reina’s frantic voice cut in.
She was always strict about etiquette.
For her to be running inside the palace was unthinkable.
“What is it?”
“Why are you here?”
Reina’s face was pale as she paused to catch her breath.
“Why?”
“His Highness the Crown Prince called your name loudly… and then he forfeited the match.”
Ariella heard no more.
She broke into a run toward the arena.
“You must come to the Crown Princess’s palace tonight!
I will reward your service!”
Even as she ran, she didn’t forget to call the promise back to Gerald.
Her heart pounded harder the closer she drew to the arena.
Reina chased after her, explaining breathlessly.
“The arena’s in chaos right now.”
“Why did His Highness forfeit the match?”
“I don’t know either.
He looked around as though searching for you, then just threw his lance away.”
“Where is he now?”
“He was badly hurt.
They carried him into the tent on a stretcher.”
Fear crashed over her like a tide.
What had happened to him?
The path to the tent stretched out like an endless road through hell.
Just as Reina had said, the stands were in an uproar.
No one understood Prince Dmitri’s sudden action.
Driven by urgency, Ariella crossed in front of the stands and rushed straight into the arena.
The packed earth was darkened with blood—Dmitri’s, surely.
Her heart slammed against her ribs until breathing itself grew painful.
In the distance, the banner atop Dmitri’s tent whipped in the wind, exuding its proud dominance.
But as she neared, her steps slowed.
Servants darted about with basins in hand, while a squire clutched Dmitri’s helmet and shifted nervously from foot to foot.
Once again, it was his adjutant, Eric, who met her first.
He said nothing upon seeing her.
His heavy gaze alone left her unable to ask a single question.
“Go inside. He is waiting for you.”
What would await beyond the lifted flap of that tent?
She felt as though she were walking to meet not an injured man, but the reaper who had once taken her life.
Before she could steel herself, Eric pulled the flap aside.
The interior was dark.
The brilliance outside made the contrast even harsher.
Her shadow stretched long across the ground before her.
Thud—the heavy fabric fell back into place, and the space was plunged into gloom once more.
Only then could Ariella see Dmitri, seated in a chair.
“Your Highness?”
Huuhk… huuhk.
Only his ragged breathing filled the air.
Her heart tightened in fear.
He would never harm her… would he?
Or could he?
She forced herself to take another step closer, not allowing fear to consume her.
“Your Highness, are you badly hurt?”
At last, Dmitri raised his head, meeting her eyes.
His black gaze was as hollow as a void.
The same eyes as when he cut through wolves.
The same eyes as when he cut down Ariella.
She stepped deeper into the shadows.
The air smelled of churned dirt, laced faintly with blood.
Then, for the first time, his brow twitched.
Their gazes locked.
The instant their eyes met, Ariella shuddered.
Dmitri’s pupils flickered, as if regaining focus.
“I…”
His words escaped on a sigh.
Ariella stood frozen before him.
Half his face was drenched in blood.
Where was the wound?
There was too much blood to tell.
Her hand reached toward his face.
“Why must I fight?”
The unexpected question halted her touch midair.
He tilted his head, watching her unmoving fingers.
“My mother burned… not even a body left behind.
My father hates me so much he wishes me dead.”
“….”
“If even you refuse to look at me—”
Dmitri pulled her hand to his face.
Hot blood smeared across her palm.
Thump-thump—his wild pulse throbbed into her arm.
“Why should I fight?”
His stare was relentless.
Ariella could scarcely breathe.
All she knew was that something was terribly wrong.
“Where were you?”
Dmitri suddenly rose.
The sheer difference in height crushed down on her.
With a single finger, he tipped up her chin.
Her eyes shook as if in an earthquake, and she shut them tight.
But he did not allow it.
“Open your eyes, Ariella.”
“….”
“Why are you trembling so much?
Your heartbeat is so loud it hurts my ears.”
His gaze bound her in place.
His lips twisted into a crooked smile.
A low, ragged laugh broke free.
“Just like the first time.
Even hearing your name makes you shudder.
What is it?
Do you think I’ll strangle you?”
The warped tone snapped her back to herself.
Instinct told her—she must not cower before him now.
His hand slid, as if to grip her throat.
Blood streaked down her cheek.
Her chest heaved with harsh breaths.
Haa… haa…
Her own ragged gasps echoed too loudly.
But then, instead of seizing her throat, his hand pressed to her shoulder.
“Damn it… Stop trembling.
Please.”
The words spilt, raw with sorrow.
He staggered back and collapsed into his seat, his expression hollow.
“Go now.”
Clutching his head in both hands, Dmitri dismissed her.
As he sank back into shadow, dust floated in the shaft of sunlight between them.
Ariella stepped forward, placing her hand gently over his.
Once she touched him, she saw it clearly.
He was nothing but a wounded man.
Too wounded to turn away from.
Perhaps he was already broken beyond repair.
Even so, she could not leave him.
She knelt beside his shattered lance, crushed to splinters under hooves.
Unwrapping her handkerchief, she reached for him.
Dmitri flinched, holding his breath.
She carefully wiped the blood from his face.
“I’m sorry.”
He smiled faintly, as if unbothered.
But only now had she finally understood the reason for his torment.
“So where were you?”
“I only went out for some air.”
Her vague answer eased the weight of guilt.
Even if not today, he would have realised the truth eventually.
She told herself that.
She knew better than anyone how much agony he endured—agony that would one day drive him to kill his own father.
She should never have left his side today.
“My head hurt for a while.“
At least during the match, she should have been there with her eyes, her breath, her heart—offering him silent comfort.
“There were too many people, and the heat was suffocating.”
On days when every reason to live crumbled, she should never have let him endure alone.
On the day he set out to fight for someone who hated him, risking his life, she should have soothed his despair.
Regret—aching and heavy—filled her chest.
“So….”
She couldn’t keep up with the blood spilling somewhere unseen.
Her hands failed to wipe it all away.
Instead, she rose and wrapped her arms around his head.
Her dress front was soaked with his blood.
“Please… forgive me.”
