The crackling of the campfire provided a rhythmic counterpoint to the lively chatter of the squad members.
They were gathered in a rough circle, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on their faces as they enjoyed their evening meal.
The conversation, animated and lighthearted, had naturally turned to Leni’s uncanny talent for catching fish.
Compliments flowed freely, each more effusive than the last, marveling at her skill.
They called it astounding, remarkable, and truly exceptional.
The praise continued, escalating with each passing moment, until Gustav, with characteristic extravagance, even suggested that he should teach her magic, convinced that her knack for fishing was something truly beyond the ordinary, almost supernatural.
Leni knew these were exaggerated compliments, a thoughtful gesture from the squad members.
She understood they were trying to lift her spirits, sensing her gloominess since the previous day.
Yet, despite their kindness, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach.
A persistent worry gnawed at her: what if someone had noticed the strange, almost imperceptible shimmer emanating from her hand earlier, a subtle glow she had desperately tried to conceal?
Fortunately, Blayden, with his usual bluntness, poured cold water on the effusive praise, effectively dousing the celebratory atmosphere.
“Catching enough fish to eat is sufficient,” he stated, his voice devoid of warmth, a stark contrast to the lively conversation.
“Catching more than that is just showing off. Those who are greedy don’t live long.”
The lively conversation, previously so buoyant, instantly deflated, much like a cheerful bonfire suddenly doused by a sudden downpour of rain.
The mood shifted abruptly, and the talk became more serious, veering towards practical matters, as if to compensate for the earlier frivolousness.
They discussed the remaining journey to the mysterious Shadow Lands and the complex, ever-shifting political situation in the various regions they would inevitably pass through.
“We should stop at the Duet Nunnery,” Blayden announced, his gaze sweeping over his men, a silent command in his eyes.
“Will you be procuring provisions there?”
Gabriel asked, his voice echoing the unspoken question on everyone’s minds.
All eyes turned to Blayden, awaiting his response, eager for clarity on their next stop.
“I also have business to discuss with Mother Superior Ericanin,” Blayden replied, his voice calm and unwavering, revealing a purpose beyond mere provisions.
“And Gabriel, you might be able to obtain some books on herbs and medicinal plants there.”
“Yes,” Gabriel acknowledged, his eyes lighting up at the prospect, clearly delighted by the opportunity to expand his knowledge.
As the conversation continued, Leni listened intently, her ears perked, gathering more information about the Duet Nunnery.
It became abundantly clear that the Mother Superior, Olenna Ericanin, was an extraordinary figure, a woman of remarkable intellect and influence.
She was said to possess extensive knowledge of medicinal herbs, a skill that could prove invaluable.
Furthermore, she was fluent in multiple languages, a testament to her broad education, and even possessed astronomical insight, capable of reading the heavens, a truly rare and mystical talent.
Leni quietly committed the Mother Superior’s name to memory: Olenna Ericanin.
This was the very person the Chiabelle Princess had instructed her to seek out at the Ruet Nunnery for help, a desperate plea whispered just before her own harrowing escape from the palace.
If we stop at the nunnery, will I be able to see the Mother Superior?
Leni wondered, a flicker of hope mingling with a sense of dread.
It would be too late a meeting, since I failed to save the princess.
A wave of guilt washed over her.
Should I just bury the princess’s desperate plea for help?
Leni found herself deep in thought as she tore at a roasted trout with both hands, eating thoughtfully, the flavors almost unnoticed as her mind churned.
When she finally lifted her head, intending to re-engage with the squad members’ conversation, Blayden’s gaze instantly met hers.
His eyes, fixed on her, were direct and unwavering, as if he had been watching her the entire time, observing her silent contemplation.
His expression, however, remained cold and impassive, offering no hint of his thoughts.
The moment their eyes met, Blayden, with a swift and practiced movement, shifted his gaze away, almost imperceptibly, as if their connection was an accidental intrusion.
He scanned the squad members, who were seated in a rough circle around the fire, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames, then addressed Lentz, who was sitting across from him beyond the heat of the embers.
“Since your family estate is close to the nunnery, how about stopping by, Sir Crobe?”
Blayden asked, his voice even and uninflected, a polite offer with an underlying suggestion of command.
Leni suddenly remembered that Lentz was the second son of a ducal family, a detail that had previously slipped her mind.
From the subsequent conversation, she deduced that the Crobe Duke’s territory bordered the Ruet Nunnery, making a visit to his family estate a logical and convenient detour.
The war is over now; he must want to see his family, she thought, understanding the implied kindness behind Blayden’s suggestion.
“Thank you for your consideration,” Lentz replied formally, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment of Blayden’s gesture.
His expression, however, was strangely rigid, a stark contrast to the polite words, almost as if he were uncomfortable with the offer.
Leni found this odd and instinctively glanced back at Blayden, a silent question in her eyes.
Their eyes met again.
This time, Blayden didn’t avert his gaze.
He stared at her intently for a moment, then briefly closed and opened his eyes, a subtle, almost imperceptible signal.
What is it, slave?
His gaze seemed to ask, a silent challenge in his dark eyes, and Leni pressed her lips together even more tightly, refusing to betray any emotion, her resolve hardening against his silent interrogation.
While she was grateful that the excessive praise had stopped, she also felt a flicker of annoyance.
Catching a lot of fish is a good thing, isn’t it?
She thought, a defiant spark igniting within her.
He could just say ‘well done’ and move on, but instead, he tries to find fault with it.
His critique felt unwarranted, a deliberate attempt to undermine her.
Since he had cut her hair at dawn yesterday, an act that felt both practical and strangely possessive, and even after the “wolf’s woman” commotion at the stream earlier, Blayden had been even more aloof than before.
Even when she was riding his horse, a forced proximity, he hadn’t spoken a single word to her.
He had issued his orders through Sharino or William, always avoiding direct communication, creating a palpable distance between them.
Whenever their eyes accidentally met, he would invariably turn away, a dismissive gesture.
And now, in front of everyone, he was openly scolding her, making her feel small and inadequate, a public reprimand that stung.
Hmph!
I have nothing to regret either, Leni thought, a defiant spark igniting within her.
All I need to do is listen and observe diligently, gather information to pass on to the prince.
Once this journey ends, I won’t have any ties to this man.
She envisioned a future free from his silent judgments and subtle provocations.
Eat a lot and survive.
That’s how I’ll save Father.
Leni lifted a piece of fish, tearing at the remaining flesh with determined bites, each mouthful a silent act of rebellion and a testament to her resolve.
As she smiled at the perfectly roasted, tender meat, finding solace in the simple act of eating, she remained oblivious to Blayden’s unwavering gaze, which was fixed on her, observing her every movement.
Once dinner was finished, the embers of the campfire slowly dying down, Gabriel, ever the thoughtful one, distributed small cloth pouches to each of the squad members.
“It’s ground dried ginger and lemon peel mixed with salt,” he explained, holding up a sample for them to see, the aroma a pleasant mix of spice and citrus.
The squad members headed to the stream, some to rinse their mouths, a refreshing ritual after the meal, others to wash their arms and legs, cleansing themselves of the day’s grime.
Gustav, ever the dramatist, lamented that he hadn’t brought any hair oil, then began humming a tune, a melancholy melody carried on the night air.
It was a folk song from Treya, he explained, about lovers meeting secretly in a wheat field under a full moon, a romantic tale in the rugged wilderness.
Leni also received her share of the salt.
She used it to brush her teeth, the gritty mixture surprisingly refreshing, leaving a clean, almost tingling sensation.
She then washed her dirty face and arms, the cool water invigorating.
At first, she hesitated to use such precious salt for personal hygiene, considering its value, but after washing, her body and mind felt remarkably refreshed, a surprising luxury.
Such luxury!
Power must be truly good, she thought, a fleeting, almost rebellious appreciation for the comforts that came with their authority, a stark contrast to her previous life.
For a very brief moment, she even felt a flicker of gratitude towards Blayden, a sentiment that caused her lips to involuntarily pout, a subconscious acknowledgment of the unexpected comfort.
Gustav, with his usual flourish, conjured a decent-looking tent, just as he had done the night before, a testament to his practical magic.
William volunteered for fire watch, his figure silhouetted against the dying embers, and the remaining members dispersed to their respective tents for the night, seeking the privacy and warmth of their shelters.
Following Blayden’s silent eye signal, a subtle command that she instinctively understood, Leni began walking towards his tent.
As they approached, the silence between them stretched, and she suddenly blurted out, her voice a little defensive, an emotional outburst she hadn’t intended, “I released all the remaining fish.”
She felt a surge of indignation at being treated like she was greedy, her pride pricked by his earlier bluntness.
What was she supposed to do when the fish just swam towards her?
It was just natural to catch them!
The thought was both a genuine question and a desperate justification.
But the truth was, her outburst wasn’t really about the fish.
It was about her current situation, being forced to follow Blayden’s will with just a glance or a nod, a silent subjugation that chafed.
If her body wasn’t free, she yearned to at least rebel with her thoughts, to assert some small measure of control over her own mind and spirit.
Blayden turned to look at her, his movement deliberate.
He didn’t merely glance sideways or wait for her to look away before observing her; he met her gaze directly, holding it steadily, an intense focus that was almost unnerving.
Leni instantly tensed, caught off guard by his unwavering attention.
Blayden’s head tilted slightly, a subtle movement that seemed to draw her in, and his deep gaze filled her vision, consuming her awareness.
His eyes, already a mysterious black-blue, seemed to absorb the darkness of the night, becoming even deeper, more unfathomable, a swirling abyss of untold thoughts.
A faint smile played on Blayden’s lips, a subtle curve that sent a wave of embarrassment washing over Leni.
She had intended to retort, to argue, to stand her ground, but her voice had come out sounding like a spoiled child’s whimper, a petulant complaint rather than a defiant challenge.
I’m confronting this man.
I’m also spying on him.
I can’t show any weakness.
I don’t want to be underestimated, especially since I’m already treated like a little brat.
These thoughts raced through her mind, a frantic internal monologue, as she struggled to regain her composure.
Even as these thoughts raced through her mind, Leni found herself unable to tear her eyes away from Blayden’s face, held captive by his intense gaze.
Up until now, Blayden had always treated her like a predator about to pounce on its prey, or a contemptuous commander looking down on a foolish soldier.
If not that, he had simply treated her as an object, a piece of property, devoid of any personal connection or respect.
But now, in the depths of his mysterious black-blue eyes, she saw an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher—was it surprise?
Or perhaps a hint of playfulness, a flicker of amusement at her childish outburst?
Is my mind playing tricks on me?
Leni swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, a palpable tension in the air.
The absence of a reprimand or a cold sneer made her uneasy, a strange discomfort settling over her.
Just as she began to wonder if he was deliberately tormenting her with his silence, his well-defined lips slowly parted, breaking the quiet.
“That’s also greed. You wanted to show off that you’re a good person.”
A surprising seriousness in Blayden’s tone made Leni’s chest ache, a strange, unexpected pang.
She had expected him to scoff, to mock her for being childish, saying that fish weren’t important, that her actions were irrelevant.
Instead, Blayden’s gentle admonishment, delivered with a calm gravity, made her feel strange, a mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite grasp.
It wasn’t that she was embarrassed at being hit where it hurt, at having her intentions exposed.
What was awkward, and then gradually welcome, was that Blayden, who had been ignoring her all along, treating her as if she were invisible, had finally spoken to her properly, as if she were a person worthy of his attention.
His tone wasn’t that of a master scolding a slave, or a superior chastising an inferior.
It was a comfortable and respectful attitude, as if he were speaking to a friend, an equal.
Leni’s heart felt soft, a surprising tenderness, and she pouted, flustered by the unexpected warmth, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
Respectful?
That’s ridiculous!
She thought, trying to fight her own delusion, to dismiss the feeling.
But the more she tried to fight her own delusion, the more she was drawn into Blayden’s serious gaze, a magnetic pull she couldn’t resist.
It was a look that seemed to expect a response, a curious light that hinted at a desire to read her thoughts, to delve into her inner world. Leni, drawn by this peculiar emotion, found herself asking, “Is it wrong to take pity on the fish and release them?”
She genuinely wanted to know Blayden’s thoughts, his perspective on compassion.
She didn’t know why his opinion mattered to her, but it did, a surprising and unsettling realization.
“Compassion is an insult,” Blayden stated, his voice calm yet firm, a declarative statement that brooked no argument.
“It’s the heart of placing someone beneath you.”
Is that so?
Leni thought, recalling the people she had shown kindness to in her life: the hungry, the poorly dressed, the sick.
Her actions had always stemmed from a desire to help, not to belittle.
It can’t be wrong to look after those who are in more difficult circumstances than me.
I can’t just look away when I see suffering.
Everyone should help each other when times are tough.
Her internal beliefs clashed with his stark philosophy.
Blayden’s voice cut through her thoughts, carried by the soft evening wind.
“Solenia Radelyon.”
“Yes,” Leni responded quietly, acknowledging her name.
“Do you think you are better than a fish?” he asked, his question abrupt and unexpected, a jarring shift in the conversation.
Her face scrunched up in confusion, trying to decipher the underlying meaning.
“What makes me worse than a fish?” she challenged, a hint of defiance in her voice, unwilling to accept the premise of his question.
“A fish gave its life to quell my hunger. What have you done for me today?”
Blayden’s question hung in the air, a direct challenge, demanding an answer she didn’t have.
Oh, come on!
Do I have to put my life on the line to appease you?
That’s never going to happen, so dream on.
Leni thought, exasperated, her internal monologue a stream of frustrated defiance.
Blayden tilted his head to the side, as if urging her to answer, his silent insistence almost palpable.
Leni’s head instinctively tilted slightly in response, mimicking his movement, a subconscious echo of his posture.
“I… you don’t catch fish you don’t need in the first place, do you?” she stammered, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected conversation, trying to find a logical foothold.
Blayden’s gaze suggested he wondered why she was asking such a thing, a hint of amusement in his eyes, but to her surprise, he answered readily.
“I don’t.”
“Then the fish you caught are needed, right?”
Leni pressed, a small part of her hoping for a specific answer, a confirmation of her nascent understanding.
“That’s right.”
Fish caught because they are needed.
Leni realized with a jolt, the implication striking her with sudden clarity.
That’s what I must be to Blayden Rehart.
The thought was unsettling, a chilling realization.
She still had no idea what specific “need” she fulfilled for him, what purpose she served, but the implication was clear: she was a means to an end.
“And you never release the fish you’ve caught?” she asked, almost breathlessly, the question a desperate search for any deviation from his rigid philosophy.
“I eat them whole, leaving nothing behind.”
Blayden’s answer was delivered with absolute conviction, a chilling finality in his tone.
He then turned and walked towards the tent, his powerful form disappearing into the shadows, leaving her standing alone in the cool night.
The leaves rustled softly above her head, a gentle whisper in the quiet forest.
Leni stood still for a moment, bathed in the cool, gentle breeze that rustled the trees, her mind reeling from their conversation.
Then, a sudden realization struck her, a flash of insight, and she scurried after Blayden, a renewed determination in her steps.
“You’re wrong!” she called out, her voice clear in the quiet night, cutting through the stillness.
Blayden paused, his steps halting, and he turned his head to look at her.
The corners of his mouth curved into a distinct arc, a visible softening of his usually stern features.
It was the clearest smile she had seen on his face in days, a genuine, undeniable curve, a rare glimpse of warmth.
“Wrong about what?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, as if enjoying her unexpected outburst.
“The fish,” Leni explained, emboldened by his smile, the confidence returning to her voice.
“You have to take out the bones before you eat them.”
“Yes.”
But just as Leni was caught in this strange, almost tender moment, basking in the unexpected warmth of his smile, Blayden’s smile vanished like a mirage, replaced by a sharp, piercing gaze that seemed to bore into her very soul.
“I thought we were talking about fish without bones,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, a subtle threat in his tone.
His dark gaze rested on her nape, a possessive, unsettling weight, as if he were claiming her.
He slowly closed and opened his eyes, a deliberate, almost predatory gesture, then dragged his gaze up her body, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper, a silken thread of menace.
“A fish with a rabbit-ear hair tie, with no scales or fins, yet clever enough to know it’s a caught fish, like me.”
Leni’s throat prickled at his low, damp whisper.
It felt as if tiny fishbones were caught, scratching at her flesh, a physical manifestation of her unease.
“A fish that keeps thrashing, trying to escape, no matter what.”
His whisper, as slow as his gaze, faded into the night, a chilling echo in the silence.
Blayden’s fingertips then gently lifted her chin, tilting her face up to meet his eyes, a gesture that was both tender and possessive.
“And it seems to have hidden bones.”
The hand supporting her face was hot.
No, it was light as a feather.
Then, it felt like a sword heated by fire—hard and dangerous, as if it could cut her at any moment, a conflicting sensation that left her bewildered.
Blayden, his gaze still ensnaring hers, lightly tapped the scar beneath her lip with his thumb, a deliberate, almost intimate gesture that made her flinch.
Leni’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat, a silent gasp.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice languid, almost lazy, a deceptive softness.
“I’ll find them and remove the bones before I eat.”
He released her chin, his hand withdrawing, leaving her standing frozen, watching his powerful body slip into the darkness of the tent.
In the cooling breeze, the skin where his hand had touched her still burned with an unsettling heat, a lingering sensation that mirrored the turmoil in her mind.