Ailaira was just a bit overworked after several days of nonstop chaos, not to mention her and Trinis’s shenanigans for two nights in a row—she was worn out, not an invalid unable to move.
Watching as Trinis resolutely placed her on the bed, then stood at the bedside anxiously fidgeting with her fingers, Ailaira’s heart was full of doubt.
“What are you doing?”
“I just… felt like if Miss Ailaira fell asleep on the floor, you might catch a chill, so I thought resting on the bed would be more comfortable.”
Who exactly would be more comfortable, I can’t say.
Ailaira couldn’t be bothered with Trinis anymore, so she gently turned over and buried her cheek in the soft pillow. Soon, her breathing became steady and even—she really was tired.
Gazing at Ailaira’s defenseless back, her black evening gown split at the side and the outerwear peeled away, exposing a large swath of pale skin marked with red scratches—like withered plums fallen on snow, glaringly conspicuous.
Those must have been the marks left unconsciously during her earlier episode. Trinis’s heart trembled; by the time she snapped out of it, her fingertips were already brushing over those ambiguous marks.
The heat from her fingers instantly ignited a fire throughout Trinis’s body.
This was no gentle Saint Fire—her reason, scorched by panic, had her snatch her hand away, and she collapsed at the bedside, burying her flushed, burning face in the crook of her arm.
“What’s wrong with me! What’s going on!”
“Is the Magic Surge still not cured? No, that can’t be—I have to trust Miss Ailaira’s ability. But then, what’s this restless urge to touch her…”
Andrea was equally conflicted inside; a powerful emptiness swelled within her, pushing her to approach Ailaira by sheer instinct, desperate to fill that void.
Yet, all the Quality Education and Noble Etiquette ingrained since childhood warned her not to take advantage of others—unless Miss Ailaira acknowledged her, she couldn’t betray her morals and act too boldly.
These two extremes, violently clashing thoughts, tormented Trinis’s already fragile spirit. She felt her magic was about to surge again!
She even felt that Ailaira’s calm breathing was a form of temptation aimed at her!
Trinis took deep breaths, trying to calm her mind, burning with desire. At last, after pinching her own thigh to force herself to cool down, the clever Princess came up with a compromise.
She decided to do something she’d always dreamed of but had never accomplished—a truly great feat!
Stealthily, Trinis stripped off her tattered clothes. Bathed in moonlight from the window, her pure, flawless body was revealed, milk-white skin even more alluring.
Her long hair gradually returned to its dazzling golden hue. She untied the lace strap sunken into her thigh, took off the slightly torn white stockings, folded them neatly, and set them on the cabinet.
Finally, she used Cleanse Spell three times over, thoroughly cleaning every inch of herself, and only after sniffing to make sure she bore no scent did she gently climb onto the bed.
Trinis really was light as a feather—even lying down beside Ailaira, pressing close to her skin, she didn’t make a sound.
With her wish fulfilled, Trinis’s eyes sparkled with secret delight. She gently tidied Ailaira’s scattered silver hair on the bed, and after gazing for a long time at the bite marks on Ailaira’s collarbone… she turned over!?
Trinis lay back-to-back with Ailaira, not daring even to touch, simply feeling the warmth radiating from her beloved. That alone soothed her repressed emotions.
“Hehe, this is our first time sharing a bed~”
“Good night, my dearest Miss Ailaira.”
But what Trinis didn’t see was that, the moment she started undressing, Ailaira had already opened her eyes. Yet, upon hearing Trinis’s words, Ailaira was left speechless.
Cowardly Princess, even when given the chance, you’re still useless.
A Princess is still a Princess—they’d never changed. Ailaira relaxed and let herself drift into sleep. In that hazy moment, she felt a bit sorry for Trinis:
It’s precisely Trinis’s personality and her identity as a Princess that bind her thoughts, making her completely different when the Magic Surge breaks those shackles.
If Trinis can never learn to make peace with herself, she’ll always remain under the sway of Devouring Magic.
Of course, if Trinis truly fell from grace and cast aside the good character painstakingly fostered by Her Majesty the King,
Then what kind of person would Trinis become?
Ailaira couldn’t help but look forward to it.
The rest of the night passed peacefully. Though Trinis was mentally restless, her body—ravaged by repeated ordeals—was exhausted, pulling her quickly into sleep as well.
When morning sunlight shone through the window, Trinis woke leisurely. Her first instinct was to look at her side, but the sheets were already cold.
A hint of disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she quickly pulled herself together.
She pumped her fist as if to cheer herself up, only to hear Ailaira’s teasingly lazy voice at her ear: “First thing every morning: cheer yourself on?”
Trinis spun around at once, eyes sparkling with delight as she looked to the table, where Ailaira was poring over the Financial Report.
Ailaira’s gaze skimmed over the mountains of numbers on the Financial Report.
Without looking up, she pushed the steaming breakfast on the table toward Trinis and said blandly, “Eat up. Once I hand you over to those Dog Reporters, my mission will be done.”
“The Guard Squad’s just too worried about me, that’s all—they’re actually good people.”
“If they’d stop chasing me, I could just barely think of them as human.”
Trinis covered her mouth and giggled. She found that a fine dress had already been laid out on the bed—her usual favorite style. Warmth spread in her heart as she stole a glance at Ailaira, her eyes full of a maiden’s suppressed yearning.
How could someone’s words and actions be so completely at odds?
Of course, Ailaira had no idea what Trinis was thinking. If she’d studied Read Mind Spell, she would have righteously claimed she just couldn’t stand seeing someone looking sloppy, that was all.
Besides, if Trinis went back to the Royal Capital in her current, thoroughly ravaged state, Her Majesty the King would probably storm all the way here in person.
Ailaira could already imagine Verlendel IX erupting with fury, knowing his beloved daughter had only run away from home to see the woman he saw as a heartbreaker.
If she thought about it, should she start climbing the Technology Tree, build a Motorcycle? Maybe even dye her hair yellow.
She was honestly curious—if Her Majesty the King saw her, would he die of rage on the spot? If she really pulled this off, and then plotted to put Trinis on the throne, wouldn’t this Kingdom be hers by default? At that point, the National Treasury would be in her pocket!
Thinking of this, Ailaira closed the completed Financial Report, clasped her hands in front of her lips, and said in a low tone: “Trinis, do you want to be King?”
“Eh!?”
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