When Lara stepped out of the study, her steps faltered. An inexplicable wave of grievance swelled within her, tightening her throat. She paused, fingers curling against her palms as she tried to steady her breathing. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of her clothing as she resumed walking. Her light footsteps glided noiselessly along the cold stone floor, leaving no echo in the corridor.
She decided to reveal what happened back then to Lara’s family. It was not her problem to resolve, she was not the original Lara. There were seven capable men in the family. If they could not uncover who was the perpetrator for Lara’s kidnapping two years ago, then they do not deserve to be her new family.
Lara was startled when an ornate door opened to her right.
"Going back? I’ll walk with you." Alaric’s smooth voice drifted into the silence before she could react, and without waiting for her response, he fell into step beside her.
Lara cast a sidelong glance at the imposing man. His presence was steady, almost comforting, yet she couldn’t help but notice the absence of his two guards. She wondered where were they?
The two walked in silence, the dirt road stretching endlessly ahead of them. Alaric, through the corner of his eye, studied her. The solemn figure beside him felt distant, lost in thoughts and he dared not intrude upon. They passed under the arching boughs of an ancient oak tree, moonlight filtering through the leaves, casting ghostly shadows along their path. Lara veered off the cobbled road, her steps taking her towards the park instead. The night air felt lighter here, fragrant with the scent of dew-kissed grass.
The tall and imposing man beside her suddenly stepped forward and blocked her path.
Lara stopped short, lifting her head in question, eyes narrowing.
"What’s wrong?" Her voice, still disguised as Kane’s, was quiet but firm.
Alaric regarded her for a moment, his gaze sharp, calculating. "So, you’re the resurrected daughter of General Odin." His tone was steady, not a question, but a quiet confirmation.
Lara tensed. She had suspected he knew, but hearing it aloud was another matter.
"Nice meeting you, Lara Norse. My name is Alaric Kromwel, the first prince of Northem." He made a small bow toward Lara.
Lara blinked. Of all the things she expected, a formal introduction was not one of them. Instinctively, she extended her hand. Alaric stared at the unfamiliar gesture, brows knitting in confusion.
Lara had forgotten that shaking hand was not the way people greeted each other during that era. Just as she was about to retract it, his large hand enveloped hers. The callouses on his palm scraped against her skin, rough and warm, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. She gave a light squeeze — a handshake.
Alaric looked at their entangled hand and the gentle movement . His eyes darkened with curiosity. "This...?"
"It’s a secret greeting," Lara lied quickly, cursing herself for the slip. "Something my master taught me, Reya and Sandoz." She coughed awkwardly, trying to pull her hand back, but Alaric held on a moment longer before releasing her.
Damn it! Habits are indeed hard to break.
Alaric accompanied her until they reached the main gate of the house. Lara turned and offered him a smile.
"Thank you for the honor of your company, Your Highness." She curtsied, only to freeze when Alaric’s expression darkened.
"It’s unbecoming for someone in men’s clothing to curtsy." His voice was low, almost amused. "Good thing no one witnessed that."
Heat crept up Lara’s neck, coloring her cheeks. She murmured another thank you and hastened towards her room. When she dared a glance over her shoulder, Alaric had already vanished into the night.
It was already late at night. Judging by the position of the moon, Lara deduced that it was past midnight. Everything was quiet except for the occasional howling of dogs in the distant.
As she reached for her door, a soft creak made her freeze. The door to the adjacent room opened, revealing a woman’s silhouette.
Briella. The woman who riled up the villagers against Northem.
Lara frowned. That was Merlin’s room. What was she doing sneaking out of her cousin’s quarters late at night? Suspicion prickled at her. Was Briella a prostitute? No — not in this era. They were called courtesan.
The moment her door closed, she moved like lightning, slipping into her black hoody and slipped out of the window. She hid stealthily behind the shadows as she followed the woman who moved with agility through the narrow and darkened alley.
Back at the mayor’s study, General Odin and Galahad returned to their senses.
"Asael," Odin began, voice tight, "what else do you know about Kane Mendel, I mean, Lara. How could you not tell me about such an important matter? Do you not consider me as your father?"
Berlin and Gideon exchanged uneasy glances. Didn’t Asael just tell them that? But they were full of suspicions.
"Father," Asael said slowly, "I told you what I know. They lived in the mountains of Ourea... where she practiced her medical skills."
"Ourea? Practice?" Percival frowned when he asked.
"Yes," Asael replied, enunciating each word carefully. "She practiced on the wounded prey left behind by predators — creatures on the brink of death.
General Odin’s pupils constricted and he trembled. Ourea? Wasn’t that the most dangerous of all the mountains in Alta-Sierra?
Galahad took three steps away from Asael as if he was holding a branding iron that could burn him if he was any nearer.
"Brother... you are joking right?" Gideon who was normally silent could not help but ask.
"When did Asael ever joked?" Bener interjected and Gideon choked. "I saw the way Kane, stitched a wound like it was cloth. What the other doctors can finish in half an hour, she can complete in ten. For her to achieve that, she must have done a lot of practice."
General Odin’s breath turned ragged. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs. His vision blurred.
"Father!" The ever perceptive Percival noticed something was wrong with their father rushed forward and supported him.
It took a few deep breaths before the general could calm down.
"Galahad." Odin’s gaze bored into his son’s. "Asael is still recovering. You’ll investigate what happened two years ago. Find out how Lara’s dress and bracelet ended up on that corpse. And more importantly..." His voice hardened. "Seek her forgiveness."
"Yes, Father." Galahad bowed deeply, his jaw tight with resolve. He had accused his sister of being a spy — had broken her heart. He would make amends. And whoever was behind her abduction...
They would pay. Triplefold.