“Sister, the water’s here!”
Seraphina almost pounced to the bedside, pressing the cup to Movira’s lips and helping her drink several slow sips.
The warm water sliding down her throat seemed to ease the faint stinging pain a little.
Movira leaned back against the headboard and exhaled.
“Much better. Don’t worry too much.”
Only after seeing that Movira’s complexion had regained some color did Seraphina’s heart settle slightly. In that same instant she remembered—Saint Eustacia was downstairs!
She did not know why the Saintess was here, but she was a Saintess after all.
Surely she would know how to help Movira.
The moment the thought appeared, Seraphina looked up urgently.
“Sister, wait right here. Saint Eustacia is downstairs! I’ll get her to take a look at you!”
“No, Seraphina… wait…”
Movira tried to stop her, but Seraphina was already rushing out in a panic.
She either did not hear the protest or could not spare the time to listen.
She turned and dashed out of the room again. Her footsteps thudded rapidly down the stairs and faded away.
When Seraphina reached the first floor, the white-robed priests from earlier had already left.
Only Saint Eustacia remained, standing alone by the window, lost in thought.
“Saint Eustacia, um… my sister, Movira… something’s wrong with her.
She just coughed up a lot of blood and her face looks terrible! I—I don’t know what to do. Could you please take a look at her?”
She hurried over to Saint Eustacia, breathing hard from the run and her anxiety.
Tilting her face upward, she pleaded.
Saint Eustacia turned at the sound.
The instant she noticed the bloodstains on the panicked girl’s nightgown, she understood.
Movira’s current injuries were almost certainly connected to the strike she had landed last night.
Even though it had been a misunderstanding, she had attacked without knowing the full situation. She could not simply wash her hands of it.
Saint Eustacia nodded.
Her voice was cool yet carried a trace of weariness. “Alright.”
The two of them returned to the bedroom.
The moment Saint Eustacia’s gaze met Movira’s, the air itself seemed to freeze.
Movira frowned and shot her a meaningful look.
Saint Eustacia understood and turned to Seraphina beside her.
“Seraphina, I need to examine her alone. Could you wait outside for a bit? It won’t take long.”
Seraphina looked back and forth between the two women.
Though worry filled her heart, she nodded obediently. “Okay. I’ll wait outside.”
The door closed, leaving the two of them alone. Saint Eustacia spoke at once—she would never pass up a chance to mock Movira.
“You’ve gotten awfully weak.” She looked Movira up and down.
The Demon King lay in bed, face pale.
Her words dripped with sarcasm, even a hint of disdain for the weak.
“Couldn’t even handle that one strike? If I had used my strongest magic, would you already be dead?”
The “one strike” referred to the spell that had lit up half the sky last night.
Movira rolled her eyes at her. Her voice was hoarse and not entirely clear.
“How was I supposed to know you’d suddenly hit me with that? I was rushing back to Seraphina. I didn’t have time to mount any decent defense.”
She paused, her tone growing heavier. “By the way… did you clean up all the Demon Realm magic I released? And how is Dekalorin?”
“I already took care of your mess. As for Teacher…”
Mentioning Dekalorin made Saint Eustacia’s eyes dim, but her voice stayed steady.
“Teacher’s condition is stable, but the toll this time was too great. Old wounds reopened, new ones added. She probably won’t be able to fight at high intensity again.”
Movira seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She buried her head deeper into the pillow and murmured, “That’s good. At least my effort wasn’t wasted. I worked hard to drag her back from the God of Death.”
Saint Eustacia’s expression faltered for a moment. Words rose in her throat, but she could not bring herself to say them to her “old rival.” In the end she changed the subject.
“Seraphina asked me to check your injuries. Is that necessary?”
“No. And is your brain broken? You’re a human Saintess—what exactly are you going to use to treat me?”
Movira’s words were perfectly reasonable; the two of them belonged to entirely different magical systems and even different races.
Then she noticed Saint Eustacia’s awkward expression and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.
She added deliberately, “Besides, I did save your teacher. Shouldn’t you show some gratitude?”
The topic still refused to let Saint Eustacia escape. Reason and emotion both demanded she thank her, yet…
She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a difficult battle.
After a long moment she forced out the words in a voice as quiet as a mosquito’s buzz. “…Thank you.”
Movira turned her head away. “Hm? What did you say? I didn’t catch it!”
Saint Eustacia’s face instantly flushed red.
She knew Movira was doing it on purpose!
But there was nothing she could do about it. She raised her voice slightly and repeated herself.
Movira still pretended not to hear.
Saint Eustacia’s anger shot straight to the top of her head.
She took one swift step forward, grabbed Movira’s collar, and practically pressed her face to the other woman’s ear.
In a low, gritted-teeth growl she said, “Thank! You! Heard it this time?!”
The moment she finished, she let go of Movira’s collar as if flinging away something filthy.
She had controlled her strength perfectly the entire time; Movira had only shifted slightly on the bed with no real harm done.
Then, without another glance at Movira, she turned and strode quickly out of the room.
Outside in the corridor not far away, Seraphina had been waiting.
Though warmer than outside, the winter hallway still carried a chill.
Already sensitive to the cold, she kept rubbing her hands together.
The repeated running had drained what little warmth her body held, leaving her face pale.
The instant she saw Saint Eustacia emerge, she hurried over.
“How is my sister?”
Saint Eustacia did not stop walking.
She merely glanced at her.
“She’s fine. She just needs some rest.”
With that she left without looking back.
Seraphina’s suspended heart finally settled.
She pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside, walking straight to the bedside.
Before she could ask, Movira reached out and took Seraphina’s small, ice-cold hand.
Worry immediately filled her eyes.
“Your hands are so cold. Didn’t you go to the living room? There’s a fireplace there—it’s warmer.”
There was nothing important to do today anyway; they could stay in bed all day.
She lifted one corner of the blanket.
“Hurry up and get in. It’s freezing out there.”