Chapter 12
At these words, Isabeau’s heart skipped a beat, as though time had momentarily halted.
She forced a faint smile, feigning confusion.
“Your Majesty, are you jesting? I don’t quite understand. Elvira is my sister. How could I ever harm her? She has tormented me repeatedly, and I’ve endured it all. If it’s my blood needed to save her, I would gladly offer it. But I cannot bear the thought of you being hurt–do you understand?”
She continued. “My king, when I married the Fourth Prince, it was never my wish. If you’ve harbored anger toward me for all these years, I’ve borne it in silence. But now, I beg of you, I do not wish for you to suffer. Can you truly despise me so? My sister died because of it, and my father was exiled to the desolate north–has that not been enough? Do you need my life to atone for it? f that is what you desire, then I shall die. It would be better than enduring this torment of the heart!”
With those words, Isabeau teared up, clos
eyes as
though resolutely crashing toward the pillar.
Just as her head was about to strike the column, a hand shot out and stopped her.
“Ah…”
She opened her eyes, about to call out Alistair’s name, but instead, she found that the hand befor
her wasn’t his at all.
The priest smiled slyly and withdrew his hand. “Your Grace, you claim to be Elvira’s true sister. In truth, summoning a soul with the blood of a close kin is quite effective. If you are willing, it would be most beneficial.”
With a subtle glance, the priest signaled to a disciple who had been waiting behind him.
The disciple nodded understandingly, taking out a silver needle and preparing to pierce Isabeau’s finger.
She quickly jerked her hand away, glaring at the priest. “Are you mad?! Do you know who I a
As the words left her lips, Isabeau suddenly realized something was terribly wrong.
Feigning hurt, she whimpered, “I fear pain the most. I can manage this myself.”
Alistair closed his eyes, hiding the disappointment deep within.
am? How dare
you touch me!”
She continuously claimed her innocence, but did she truly know nothing about the events of the past?
She had never been truly kind–hearted, and it was impossible for her to have willingly saved Elvira–he had always known that.
When he opened his eyes again, he cast a cold glance at her. “Your disguise is pitiful, Isabeau. You never intended to save Elvira. How much longer must you feign such sisterly affection? Moreover, Elvira does not need your blood. She owes you nothing. Even if she made mistakes, she has already been punished for them. Guards! Take the Duchess away. She is not to enter the palace without summons!”
With that command, a group of servants swiftly escorted Isabeau out of the hall.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Alistair massaged his brow, his gaze falling upon the icy coffin with its decaying contents. Slowly, he spoke, “Wasn’t it the heart’s blood you needed? Let us begin. Silas should be bringing the items related to Elvira soon.”
The priest nodded, placing a beautifully decorated dagger, studded with countless gems, on the table before him.
“Your Majesty, the heart’s blood must come from you.”
Alistair took the dagger and, after calling in the royal physician to confirm its sharpness, he pressed the tip of the blade to his chest.
Only a fraction of an inch away, it would pierce his skin, spilling blood.
He stared at his hand, momentarily distracted.
He had never imagined that he would one day do something like this for Elvira.
Did he care for her? He didn’t know.
All he knew was that he wanted to keep her by his side forever–even if she were dead, her soul would belong to him alone.
This obsession, this intensity, was something entirely different from the feelings he once had for Isabeau.
When he saw Isabeau marry another, he had felt anger and regret, but it had never reached the depths of what he now felt.
When he had first ascended to the throne, he had indeed considered forcibly taking her into the palace, imprisoning her by his side. Chapter 12
