Chapter 17: It Would’ve Hurt Less
Delia chewed on a piece of meat, grumbling.
“I told you my name, didn’t I? You begged so much for it, and now you keep calling me ‘prisoner’?”
“To remind you.”
“Remind me of what?”
“That you’re a prisoner. You keep forgetting.”
Delia tilted her head, clearly not understanding.
“I remember just fine. I’ve been doing my prisoner duties diligently.”
Aaron let out a hollow laugh.
“In all my years of war, I’ve never seen a prisoner act as freely as you.”
Delia frowned at his criticism.
“I’m locked up and dragged around on hunts I hate, and I was even tied up with crazy ropes all night. Seriously, how could I do a better job being a prisoner than that?”
“You made me pick flowers, came at me with a knife saying you’d kill me, threatened me that I’d die if I moved a finger… What kind of prisoner does that?”
Delia pouted. The firelight made her red lips appear even more vivid. As the night deepened, the campfire blazed more brightly, and sparks flew between Aaron and Delia as they stared at each other.
“I am being a proper prisoner.”
“From my perspective, you’re not.”
“That’s just because you’re hoping for too much, Commander. You’re still hanging around, trying to use me.”
“So it’s my fault you’re so unusual?”
“I’ll confess now—I’m not the kind of great person you think I am.”
“Now you’re lying to try and run away?”
“You’re surprisingly slow. Haven’t you figured it out yet? No news until now means I’m just a bandit not even worth negotiating over. I’m nothing. Just a rock. A rock from Mount Tarrence.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Don’t waste your hopes. Just treat me normally. Like a real prisoner. Lock me up in a camp, don’t try to feed me nice meals… just starve me.”
Aaron smiled and gently pushed another piece of meat into her mouth as she mumbled.
“Just wait. I’ve already sent for information. The truth will come out soon.”
“What’s there to wait for? What a waste of time.”
“Or better yet, you could just tell me yourself. Wouldn’t that speed things up?”
“And what will you do once you find out who I really am?”
Aaron’s gaze drifted from Delia to the fire, as if avoiding her eyes. He stirred the flames with a stick, making them flare up.
“That depends on your rank and status.”
“How so?”
“If you’re a high-ranking noble, I’ll use you to open the path. Make our advance easier.”
“Oh, come on. That’s ridiculous.”
“Why is it? If you’re important enough to be assigned elite guards, then you must be someone valuable… Especially since those guards are still lurking around here trying to rescue you.”
The flickering firelight cast sharp shadows on Delia’s face.
“Damn those guys. Someone should just drive them away already.”
Delia cursed the poor guards. If Zere, circling the forest unable to return, heard her, he’d faint. But Delia brushed off any thought of Zere’s frustration and turned to Aaron again.
“Even so, who would sell out their country for the life of one prisoner?”
“Doesn’t matter. The moment they sit at the negotiation table, the game’s already over.”
Realizing what Aaron was implying, Delia stared at him in horror.
“Wow. Commander, you’re really despicable. You’d lure them to the table and then strike?”
“Let’s call it a negotiation tactic.”
“That’s not negotiation, that’s blackmail.”
“Call it whatever you want, Prisoner.”
“At this rate, my family’s going to end up as prisoners too.”
“Not just your family. I’ve got my eyes on your fiancé too.”
“My fiancé?”
“If you have one, I’ll demand a ransom. It’s a matter of family honor—I’m sure they’ll pay handsomely.”
“Good thing I saved them the trouble. I don’t have a fiancé.”
“What a shame.”
Aaron said it was a shame, but his expression didn’t carry the slightest hint of regret. If anything, there was a faint smile. Delia stared into his eyes, reflecting the red glow of the fire. A smile in his deep gaze, light dancing at the tip of his chiseled nose, and the moonlight caught in his silver hair—all of it made Aaron seem so unreal that Delia’s senses started to blur.
“But what now? I’m not a noble. So neither of those apply.”
“Then what, a saint? Received a divine message and ran onto the battlefield?”
“Who even believes in that kind of thing anymore?”
“Regular soldiers do. Command HQ might see the big picture and predict the future from intel, but the soldiers know nothing.”
Delia blinked at his calm tone.
“What if I were a saint with divine revelation? Then what?”
“Then I’d push forward with you at the front. Announce to the world that the saint who received the revelation is on the Empire’s side.”
His tone was relaxed and uninterested, despite the heavy content.
“The Empire’s morale would skyrocket, and Iorenti would fall into despair.”
Aaron’s drowsy voice blended with the crackling firewood, the dreamy tone pulling Delia further from reality.
“Wow. So that’s why you were being nice to me.”
The dazzling flames before her eyes seemed to be burning away everything—Delia’s homeland, the invasion, even her own sense of self. She stared blankly at Aaron, as if hearing someone else’s story.
“But what if I’m not even that? Not a saint?”
“Then… you’ll just come with me to the Empire.”
“As a war trophy?”
“You got it.”
“I don’t want to go to the Empire. I want to stay in Iorenti.”
Feeling Delia’s gaze on him, Aaron tossed more sticks into the fire. The flames roared higher, casting their shadows wildly across both their faces.
“Why? If you’re a noble of the defeated side, you’d either be executed or enslaved. Wouldn’t being a trophy be better? At least I won’t break you.”
“There’s really no option where you send me home unharmed?”
“You’re a prisoner. Isn’t it strange for a prisoner to expect to go home nicely?”
Delia no longer replied. Her blue eyes drifted from Aaron back to the fire. The flames looked like they were feeding on her soul.
“If you’re not a noble or a saint, then what are you? Just spit it out already.”
Aaron watched Delia blankly staring into the fire. He was sure he’d caught her—sure she was already in his grasp. So why this strange, crawling unease under his skin? Frustrated by the anxiety he couldn’t explain, he raked his fingers through his hair. His silver strands, tinted red by the firelight, rippled with the movement.
“Brandy.”
Aaron looked puzzled at Delia’s sudden comment.
“What? The Brandy family?”
“You know, that thing you waved in front of me to taunt me the day I was captured.”
“Oh, that brandy?”
“Yeah. I want to drink that.”
Despite her vacant expression, the request was firm and clear. Even surrounded by enemies, Delia didn’t hesitate to demand what she wanted. That boldness scattered Aaron’s unease in an instant.
“Alright, then.”
Aaron smiled lightly and raised two fingers. Daik, who had been standing by, immediately stepped forward.
“Bring the brandy.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Daik hurried off and returned with the commander’s private stash. He placed the bottle and glasses in front of them. Aaron poured the brandy and handed a full glass to Delia. The liquid shimmered, reflecting the firelight in golden glimmers.
“Ahh.”
Delia downed it in one gulp. The sting of alcohol rushing down her throat sent a shiver through her body. She held out her glass to the commander again.
“More.”
“Take it slow. Drink too fast and you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
“I already feel awful today. Why worry about tomorrow?”
A faint fruity scent lingered in her breath as she spoke.
“You’ll regret it when your head’s pounding tomorrow.”
Aaron fed her another bite of meat, and, without missing a beat, refilled her glass. Delia couldn’t take her eyes off the stream of golden liquor pouring from the bottle. Entranced by its beauty, she kept drinking.
“I already regret it. If I knew it was this good, I would’ve just taken it that day. Then it wouldn’t have hurt as much.”
Delia murmured softly and downed another glass.
“Are you still hurting?”
Aaron’s lazy expression sharpened instantly. He set the bottle down and reached for the robe Delia was wearing. Damn that quack military doctor. He should’ve known when they were being annoying. Aaron cursed under his breath. His fingers, brushing Delia’s front, moved urgently. But Delia slapped his hand away.
He froze.
“I need to check if it’s infected.”
“You’re the one who shot me, and now you’re the most worried.”
“Do you have a fever? Are you hurting anywhere else?”
Aaron’s large hand covered Delia’s forehead, even shading her eyes. Everything went dark. She shivered involuntarily.
“No fever. Cold?”
Delia blinked under his hand. Her long eyelashes tickled his palm.
“Commander.”
She gripped the hand covering her face tightly. Could she overpower his strength? Contrary to her fear, he let her remove his hand easily. Delia looked him straight in the eye.
“Why?”
“Don’t you think you’re underestimating things?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no way Iorenti would fall so easily.”
“Then I suppose I’ll just have to show you instead of explaining it a hundred times.”
“And there’s no way I’d let myself be used that easily either. I’ll kill you and escape before that.”
“Give it a try. I wish you luck.”
His smug tone made Delia grind her teeth. But when she recalled the gunfire during that day’s hunt, she understood why he was so confident. With a sinking heart, she turned her gaze to the night sky. The stars of Iorenti twinkled in the darkness. Could she protect them? Her eyes sparkled with starlight.
“Tch. This isn’t enough.”
Delia flung her glass over her shoulder and reached for the bottle in Aaron’s hand.
“What are you doing?”
Aaron flinched, pulling the bottle away. Delia’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to go.
“Two drinks aren’t enough to get me drunk.”
“You already seem drunk.”
“I’m not. Now give me the bottle.”
She leaned forward, bracing herself on Aaron’s solid thigh, and stretched toward the bottle he’d moved away. Amused by her determined effort, Aaron chuckled and handed it over.
“You’re quite the drinker, Prisoner.”
“Well, being stuck here makes my chest feel tight.”
Oh dear. What’s your plan, Delia?