For A Princess

Power began to whip across Lesaric’s body. He was in pain and unconsciously began to spark magic particles around him. But, given the state he was in, he could not materialize Granica and his powers could do nothing.

And from then on, a whip and strong force poured over Lesaric’s body. In physical pain, he unconsciously drew out magic particles but under the bloodline of the king he had no power to threaten them. The shining magic particles couldn’t even make a line, and Granica didn’t materialize. They laughed even louder.

Then, as he grew dizzy, he heard a voice call out.

*  *  *

His body felt hot.

He was exhausted and had wanted rest and let go of everything; he had no intention of living in the first place. But nothing ever came easy. Even death.

Something cold pressed against his forehead, driving away the heat. He heard whispering in the darkness, tender words that seemed to care for him. He wanted to shake it off, but his body did not move.

Tears began to flow as his body rid itself of heat. A small, cold finger wiped away a tear, and, with all the strength he had left, he grabbed at it weakly, still unable to open his eyes.

“It’s alright,” the sweet voice whispered.

He fell asleep again.

When he woke, his body felt light. He opened his eyes to find that he was lying on a white bed and that light was pouring through the drapes around him. It must have been midday.

He reached out to grab a drape when someone barged into the room.

“Damn it! I can’t even cultivate one. The temperature keeps fluctuating,” rambled the woman who had walked in. She was slender and pale with delicate features that seemed to melt in the sunlight, creating a luminous glow. But what caught Lesaric’s attention was really her hair: blond, like melted honey. Uncommon and dazzling, just like the king’s.

The woman ran to a desk and flipped through pages that were on the surface.

A man followed behind her and offered Lesaric a small smile. He reached his hand out and said, “I’m Yelkan. I’m just a minor aristocrat from the province so the last name doesn’t matter.”

Delmore tried to appear calm, but she couldn’t help growing a little nervous under Lesaric’s gaze. His blue eyes were like no other, she noted, as he shook hands with Yelkan. He was the kind of person that couldn’t be told what to do.

“Why am I here?” Lesaric asked.

Delmore cleared her throat, attempting to settle her nerves. “Because I brought you here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Delmore said. “I didn’t really think about it. I just couldn’t let you die.”

Lesaric sighed. “I would have preferred to be dead,” he admitted. When Delmore didn’t respond, he shook his head. “That was rude of me to say. Thank you for your help.” He lowered his head and bowed. She was a princess after all.

“It may seem hypocritical for a member of the royal family to care for the wounds inflicted by the royals,” Delmore said quietly. She looked away. “Your external injuries have been taken care of, but your internal injuries are worse. It would be good to see Bachen for treatment.” She let out a breath. “Your condition was extremely critical.”

Lesaric frowned. “Isn’t it an honor for a Soul to be wounded by the royal family?”

Delmore was quiet.

Sensing the tension in the room, Yelkan let out an awkward laugh and took Delmore’s shoulder. “Well, she needs to go now because she’s a very busy person.”

Delmore blinked. “Documents!” she exclaimed, rushing back to the desk. “I need documents.”

Yelkan almost rolled his eyes as he watched her make a show of searching for something then walking to the door empty-handed.

Lesaric stared at Delmore as she left. He caught a glimpse of her hands as she disappeared through the door. They seemed small enough to have been the ones that caressed him when he collapsed.

He wiped at the parts of his forehead she had touched, frowning.