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Chapter 3 — The Saintess Who Was Afraid

The palace physicians arrived within minutes.

Elara was carried into a private chamber while the nobles outside were ordered to remain silent about what had happened.

Arin stood in the corridor, staring at the closed doors.

He still couldn't understand what he had witnessed.

The saintess had looked terrified.

Not of Lucien.

Of something connected to him.

And then she had told Arin to stay away from him.

Arin rubbed his forehead.

“This story is getting worse.”

A voice came from beside him.

“You shouldn't joke about this.”

Arin turned.

Lucien stood against the wall.

His expression was unusually serious.

“I'm not joking.”

“You called the situation ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous.”

Lucien sighed.

“You really have changed.”

Arin looked at him.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because the old Leon would have accused the saintess of pretending.”

Arin froze.

That was true.

The original Leon had never trusted Elara.

He would have immediately assumed she was manipulating everyone.

But Arin wasn't Leon.

He had seen the fear in her eyes.

It had looked genuine.

“She wasn't pretending,” Arin said.

Lucien's eyes narrowed.

“You believe her?”

“I believe she was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“I don't know.”

Lucien looked toward the closed doors.

“I don't think she knows either.”

Before Arin could ask what he meant, the physician stepped outside.

“Her Highness is stable.”

Arin corrected him automatically.

“Saintess.”

The physician bowed.

“My apologies. The saintess is stable.”

Lucien immediately asked:

“Why did she collapse?”

“We don't know.”

“Her magic?”

“No abnormality.”

“Her heartbeat?”

“Normal.”

Lucien's expression became colder.

“That makes no sense.”

The physician swallowed.

“I agree.”

Arin stared at the physician.

“Can I see her?”

Lucien looked at him.

The physician hesitated.

“She specifically asked for Lord Leon.”

Arin's heart sank.

Of course she did.

He entered the room.

Elara was lying on the bed.

Her golden hair spread across the pillow.

She looked much more fragile without the crowd around her.

When she saw Arin, she smiled weakly.

“You came.”

“You asked for me.”

“I did.”

Arin pulled a chair beside the bed.

“What happened?”

Elara looked toward the door.

“Is Lord Lucien outside?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him to leave.”

Arin stared.

“Why?”

“Because I need to speak to you alone.”

Arin stood.

He opened the door.

“Lucien.”

Lucien looked at him.

“She wants you to leave.”

Lucien's eyes darkened.

“No.”

Arin blinked.

“She asked.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you refusing?”

“Because I don't trust what happened to her.”

Arin stared.

Lucien stepped closer.

“I don't believe she has complete control over herself.”

Arin's expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

Lucien lowered his voice.

“When her eyes turned gold, her magical signature changed.”

“You noticed?”

“I always notice magic.”

“And?”

“She wasn't casting a spell.”

Lucien glanced toward Elara.

“Something was using her.”

Arin felt a chill.

He remembered the novel.

Elara had always been described as pure.

Divinely blessed.

Loved by the Goddess.

But what if the story had been wrong?

What if the saintess wasn't controlling everything?

What if something else was controlling her?

Arin turned back toward the bed.

“Lucien.”

“Yes?”

“Stay nearby.”

Lucien's expression softened.

“I will.”

He stepped away from the room.

Elara watched him leave.

Only after the door closed did she speak.

“You believe him.”

“Yes.”

“Then you believe me too?”

“I don't know.”

Elara smiled sadly.

“That is fair.”

Arin leaned forward.

“Tell me what you know.”

She looked at her hands.

“When I first arrived in the capital, everything was normal.”

“Then what happened?”

“I began having dreams.”

“What kind?”

“Four men standing around me.”

Arin's eyes narrowed.

“The four male leads?”

Elara nodded.

“They were always there.”

“What did they do?”

“They loved me.”

Arin sighed.

“That's the entire novel.”

Elara looked confused.

“Novel?”

“Nothing.”

She continued.

“At first I thought it was divine prophecy.”

“And now?”

“Now I think it's a prison.”

Arin stared at her.

Elara's voice trembled.

“Whenever one of them gets too far from me, I feel pain.”

Arin's expression changed.

“What kind of pain?”

“Like something is tearing my heart apart.”

He remembered the original story.

The four men always returned to her.

The novel had described it as devotion.

Perhaps it wasn't devotion.

Perhaps it was compulsion.

“What happens if they refuse?”

Elara's eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“No one has tried.”

Arin looked toward the door.

Lucien had.

“He has.”

Elara nodded.

“And that is why I'm afraid.”

“Afraid of him?”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“Afraid for him.”

Arin became silent.

“Why?”

“Because he is resisting.”

“Resisting what?”

“The thing inside me.”

Arin's blood ran cold.

“The thing inside you?”

Elara nodded.

“I don't know what it is.”

She looked at him.

“But it hates Lucien.”

Arin slowly leaned back.

That explained everything.

Lucien's behavior wasn't random.

Something was trying to force him toward Elara.

And something inside Elara was fighting him.

But there was another question.

Why was Lucien drawn toward Leon?

Elara seemed to understand his thoughts.

“You are different too.”

Arin frowned.

“How?”

“The moment you entered the palace tonight, the pressure around me weakened.”

Arin stared.

“What?”

“You make it easier for the four men to resist.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

Elara reached for his hand.

The moment she touched him, a burst of light flashed between them.

Both gasped.

Arin saw something.

A vision.

A black-haired man standing in darkness.

A golden thread connected him to Elara.

Another thread stretched toward Leon.

But unlike the golden thread—

Leon had a silver one.

And it was wrapped around Lucien's wrist.

The vision disappeared.

Arin pulled his hand back.

“What was that?”

Elara looked terrified.

“You saw it too.”

“What was it?”

“The threads of fate.”

Arin's heart pounded.

“There were two.”

Elara nodded.

“One was mine.”

“And the other?”

She looked at him.

“Yours.”

Arin couldn't speak.

Elara whispered:

“That is why the story is changing.”

Outside the room, Lucien stood alone.

His eyes were closed.

He could hear their voices through the door.

Normally, the palace walls would have blocked ordinary sound.

But Lucien was a mage.

He heard everything.

The moment Elara touched Leon, Lucien felt something inside his chest shift.

A strange warmth.

Then pain.

His hand tightened.

He looked down.

For the briefest moment, a silver mark appeared around his wrist.

Lucien stared at it.

He had never seen it before.

The mark disappeared.

But he knew what it meant.

A magical bond.

Not with the saintess.

With Leon.

Lucien slowly looked toward the door.

“What are you?”

Inside the room, Arin was asking the same question about himself.

Neither of them knew that their meeting had created something the original story had never accounted for.

A second fate.

And somewhere deep within the palace, an ancient magical force awakened.

It had been sleeping for centuries.

Waiting.

Watching.

And now it had finally found the person it had been searching for.

Leon Valemont.

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