Chapter 66: Rats Skulking Around...
Olga’s scowl deepened, her voice sharp as steel.
"Then what is that in your arm, Lenko? What did he do?" She jabbed toward the sigil glowing beneath his forearm bandage, the rest of her body flaring in disbelief.
"Don’t play dumb with me. Answer me right now, or I swear I’ll rip those off of you, Lenko, and turn your young lord into nothing but walking bandages from head to toe."
Her threat wasn’t an empty one. The way her eyes burned, the way her shoulders tensed as if ready to lunge again, made it clear she meant every word.
Lenko’s composure faltered. He darted a nervous glance toward Keiser, silently pleading for him to say something that might keep her from exploding.
Keiser, slumped but steadying himself, only gave a small shrug. His tone was flat, almost casual, though his eyes betrayed his unease.
"Tethering sigil?"
The words slipped out like a half-formed guess.
He wasn’t sure what else to call it, because truthfully, he didn’t understand it either.
Muzio’s mana, the strange sigils that seared themselves into his skin, carving marks across the frail body just to force it to obey Keiser’s thoughts, his will.
His blood and touch leaving burning traces on others, on the elf, on Lenko’s arm. The way it tore him through and dragged him straight to Lenko, it was all still a mystery, even to him.
Olga’s expression twitched, her lips curling, eyes narrowing into a dangerous glint. It was clear that explanation only made her angrier. She shifted her weight, muscles coiled as though she was about to rip him apart then and there.
And then, a voice broke through the air, smooth and sweet, like honey dripping into the night.
"Olga, what’s going on?"
It rang with a softness that made the moonlight seem brighter, the shadows stretch deeper. The breeze that had been warm suddenly carried a chill, sharp and cutting, as though the very world bent to the one who spoke’s presence.
From the darkness stepped a figure, her form bathed in silver glow as though the moon herself had chosen her.
Her gaze lingered on Olga, a faint curve of her lips both kind and curious. "You’ve been gone so long, I had to come and check."
The tension in the air shifted, not broken but reshaped, Olga’s fury colliding with the princess’s serene intrusion, Keiser caught between one sister’s scowl and another’s smile.
Keiser’s eyes widened the moment he recognized her. Althea, the sixth princess, the Saint of the Kingdom.
Instinctively, he yanked his hood back over his head, sinking his face deeper into shadow.
Still, his gaze flickered sideways. Tyron was frozen, mouth hanging open in awe. Even Jim and Jill, stood like statues, their faces lit with wonder as though an angel had descended from the heavens.
And in a way, one had.
The Saint. The kingdom’s untouchable jewel.
Olga’s reaction was immediate. Spinning on her heel with wide eyes. Her voice, rough a moment ago, softened into something urgent, nearly trembling.
"Your highness, you shouldn’t be out here," she said, almost scolding in her worry. "I told you, I was only taking care of some rats skulking near the temple. That’s all."
She stepped quickly toward the princess, instinctively putting herself between Althea and the darkened alleyway, the posture of a shield.
Althea tilted her head ever so slightly, her gaze sliding over Olga with effortless grace. Despite the difference in stature, Olga towering with a knight’s frame, the princess delicate and slight, the weight of presence tilted entirely in Althea’s favor. Her calmness pressed against the air itself.
Then her eyes found him.
For the briefest instant, Keiser felt them pierce the shadows of his hood. A jolt shot through him like water poured straight into his veins. Every hair on his body bristled, goosebumps rippled across Muzio’s flesh. His breath caught, as if the air itself refused to pass under that gaze.
Her eyes did not linger long, but it was enough, enough to remind him of who she was, and how dangerous it was for him to even exist before her.
That was when it happened.
Althea’s soft red eyes, so often gentle, so often carrying the warmth of divinity, snapped wide the moment she recognized him. Keiser stiffened as Muzio’s body betrayed him, the red of his own, meeting hers in the gloom. For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to stop breathing.
Then, impossibly, she moved.
"Your Highness---?" Olga managed before being shoved aside. Shoved. Her jaw slackened in disbelief.
The Saint, the soft-spoken princess who had never raised a hand against anyone, had pushed her own knight out of the way with startling force. Normally, Althea would have simply stepped back if someone breached her comfort. To see her do the opposite was unthinkable.
But what followed was worse.
Instead of the demure, graceful steps befitting a princess, Althea strode forward in great, deliberate strides. The sound of her shoes cracked against the cobblestones, echoing in the narrow alleyway. The movement was raw, stripped of courtly poise, and brimming with something heavy.
Before Keiser could react, before anyone could even understand, her hand lashed out.
The SLAP rang sharp against the night air.
Keiser’s head snapped to the side, his breath catching in his throat. Shock flooded through his veins. The sting wasn’t half as brutal as the weight behind it, the weight of who had struck him.
They all went still. Tyron’s mouth hung open, breath caught in his throat. Jim and Jill stared, hollow-eyed. Lenko tripped over his own step, hands jerking upward too late to matter. Even Olga faltered, her poise shattering as disbelief rooted her to the spot.
And Althea...
The sweetness was gone.
Her soft, saintly expression shattered, replaced by a face bared in fury, her teeth clenched, her eyes glowing with something venomous. She hissed through the silence, every syllable dripping with loathing that cut deeper than any blade.
"Of all the rats to crawl back, it had to be you... Muzio."