Chapter 93
“Ah, then… do you see that fountain in the garden? I’ll just stay near there. I promise I won’t go anywhere secluded! My little sister—don’t you dare touch her!”
The raised voice came back to him, and Tessarion couldn’t help but smile.
Roy looked at him once more, then slowly stepped back. Tessarion removed the pipe from his lips and nodded.
He was watching carefully—telling Roy to go.
Only then did Roy turn around and walk toward the rose pergola. Even as he went, his shoulders jerked nervously like he was startled by every little thing, and it looked a little funny.
The one targeting Roy hadn’t been caught yet, so he should not have been left alone. But Altair, who had been tracking the dark magician, begged Tessarion to give him just a short chance to set a trap.
It took time to disguise the Shadows as banquet guests and place them in the garden. During that, Altair was busy removing the dark magician’s traps.
But there were too many people.
Variette had warned that magical beasts might attack during the welcoming banquet, so the Black Wolf Knights and the Shadows were on high alert.
Still…
Who was it?
Who was targeting Roy…?
“…Wait.” Tessarion frowned.
“Where are Baroness Crisha Dover and Meril Dover right now?”
From the darkness, a masked Shadow answered:
“Baroness Dover complained of a headache from shock. She and Meril Dover have returned to their quarters.”
“Their quarters? Did they book a hotel?”
“No, my lord. The city’s hotels were all full, and since they came by Prince Variette’s invitation, I believe they were given guest rooms in the southern palace.”
The south wing… where Variette, Heliot, the First Imperial Knights, and the cultural delegation stayed.
Tessarion realized too late that while he was distracted with Roy, he hadn’t kept watch over Meril Dover. A chill tightened around his heart.
“Tell the attendants to move them to the main estate. Immediately.”
“Yes, Duke.”
The Shadow bowed and leapt down from the terrace.
Shadows and guards were placed all around Claremont Castle. Tessarion suspected the culprit was hiding among the First Knights or the cultural envoys, so he had ordered tighter security there than anywhere else.
Besides, both Crisha and Meril were members of the White Night Rangers. They were veterans at fighting magical beasts—hardly people to be caught off guard.
They would be fine… right?
His mind said yes, but his heart wouldn’t calm. His pulse pounded with unease. He should run and confirm their safety—but Roy was with Altair.
Altair draped his coat over Roy’s shoulders. The two drew closer, talking quietly. Roy read through the paper Altair handed him, serious-faced, and then signed. Altair’s magic glowed faintly. Roy looked straight at him. Altair smiled.
And Roy—stepped up and kissed him.
“…..”
The pipe slipped from Tessarion’s fingers. That had to be Altair’s magic. That so-called “charm spell”…
He should have pulled Roy away immediately and gotten his family to safety. What was a spell compared to a person’s life? He had to move.
But his body wouldn’t.
Dooong—
Dooong, dooong—
The bells rang, announcing midnight.
“Your Grace!”
A knight rushed up, kneeling before the frozen Duke.
“Baroness Dover and Lady Meril are gone!”
Half the year, the Dover lands lay locked in frozen seas and rugged snowy mountains. Meril Dover, seventeen, was born and raised there. Out of nowhere, a magical invitation arrived—gold foil gleaming, sealed with the Imperial crest.
But the sender wasn’t her brother Roy Dover. It was the Imperial Princess herself.
And not just an invitation. She even requested Meril to serve as her personal maid once she married the Northern Duke. To Meril, it was overwhelming honor.
But the White Night Rangers, her comrades, tilted their heads.
“Wait—what?”
“Yeah, why would she do that?”
The Rangers stared at Meril. A squad leader draped in bear hide, wielding axe and bow, as the princess’s maid? Unless the princess needed someone to smash troublemakers, it didn’t make sense.
“This doesn’t add up. Isn’t it a trap?”
One big, bear-like member even sniffed the letter suspiciously. The captain, stroking his beard, tapped Meril’s shoulder.
“Kid. We’ve got a problem.”
“What?”
“When’s the last time you got a letter from your big brother?”
“Maybe… three, four months ago?”
“Then this is serious. Something’s happened to him.”
“What?!”
Snow whipped through the camp as the White Night Rangers realized.
If Roy couldn’t play the hostage role, then his elder sister Meril would be the replacement. And now—news from Claremont had been scarce, while this “princess’s” invitation was strangely urgent and even stuffed with travel expenses.
Could it be—something happened to Roy?
Who would dare…
Touch Dover’s most precious “pretty fool”?
Meril strapped the White Night Rangers’ treasured weapon—the Great Frosted Halberd—to her back and set out. Even their grandmother, long retired, dug out her old longsword, swearing to kill anyone who touched her grandson. Together they raced day and night until they arrived at the banquet.
And Roy?
He was perfectly fine.
More than fine—he was polished, shining like a gemstone, clinging to the Duke’s side.
“Seriously? All that worry for this?”
Meril huffed. Fine then. Since they were here, she’d eat her fill at least.
The feast was glorious, and she happily stuffed herself. But then came the problem: the princess who had invited her.
She wasn’t a princess at all. She was revealed to be both the Emperor’s adopted child and the last surviving heir of the cursed Barner state—a count in her own right.
And right before everyone, she boldly confessed her love for Roy, despite being engaged to the Duke.
Meril watched as her grandmother clutched her neck and collapsed.
“Oh heavens, my head…! What are we supposed to do now?!”
“What else? Stay strong or die trying.”
“Why Roy?! Of all people, why Roy in this political marriage?!”
“Grandma, remember when Father took 5,000 gold and crossed the ice sea? It’s the same thing. Worst case, we’ll just snatch my brother and run.”
Then—Crisha stopped in her tracks. Supporting her, Meril also froze.
There, in the middle of the corridor, sat Variette in his wheelchair. Alone. No knights, no attendants, no servants.
He had been the most striking figure at the banquet—and the loneliest. No matter that he himself had ruined the event, it was still shocking to see how abandoned he was.
Everyone ignored him, turned away in disgust, or whispered behind his back. Even the Crown Prince had abandoned him.
The beautiful dancer who had twirled with Roy looked pale and sickly now.
Meril and Crisha didn’t greet him like noble ladies. Instead, they saluted him as warriors—according to the knight’s code.
