Chapter 175: Chapter 175: Thorns and Warnings
[Ann’s POV]
Prince Zephyr walked toward Sir Ray and me, his steps measured and steady now, all trace of his earlier drunkenness erased. Around us, the crowd that had gathered to watch the drama at the scam stall was slowly dispersing, their attention already drifting toward the next distraction—a juggler down the lane, a pie-eating contest, the promise of the upcoming performer show. The festival’s current receded, leaving our group in a small island of relative quiet.
The stall owner was attempting to apologize to Gale, his voice a nervous, stumbling stream of words. Gale’s responses were clipped, monosyllabic, each one delivered with a flat glare that seemed to suck the warmth from the air. Lady Ovelia stood between them, her hands making small, soothing gestures as she tried to calm Gale down. Her voice was a soft, patient murmur, too low for me to catch the words.
"Lia has already given me permission," Prince Zephyr said, arriving before me. His voice was gentle, almost apologetic. He held the single red rose carefully, its velvet petals catching the lantern glow. "I’ll be placing this in her bouquet."
Before I could respond or reach for the bouquet, his fingers—long and careful, moving with deliberate precision—placed the single red rose among the arrangement.
The deep crimson bloom settled against the white snowdrops, the pink lotus, the bold blue salvia, and the proud yellow sunflower. It added a new warmth to the bouquet, a bold, passionate contrast that somehow made all the other colors appear brighter.
"Even a beautiful flower has thorns," he said, his voice low, almost to himself. His amethyst gaze fixed on the rose. "To protect itself. And sometimes, to protect someone else."
I remained still. Was he speaking to me? Or merely observing the flower? I couldn’t tell.
His eyes lifted from the bouquet and met mine. "But if someone draws too close to the rose, the thorns will hurt them. And if the rose draws too close to someone... the thorns will hurt that person, too. Or maybe both of them."
I held his gaze, the weight of his words settling into the spaces I usually kept locked. My fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the bouquet’s wrapped stems.
"I think... I understand what you’re trying to say, Your Highness," I whispered, my eyes dropping to the rose. Its petals were so soft. Its thorns, so sharp. "But Lady Ovelia... she removed my thorns without even realizing it. She crossed every boundary I was supposed to maintain." I looked up at him again, directly, without flinching. "And I would never regret growing those thorns back a thousand times over, if it meant protecting her."
He smiled. Not the drunken, exuberant grin from before, nor the diplomatic mask of a prince. Something genuine. Something... relieved. "So that’s how you interpret what I’m saying."
My eyes narrowed slightly. Was he just... teasing me? Testing me?
"She is fortunate to have you as her bodyguard," he said, and his tone held no trace of mockery. He reached out and tapped my shoulder once, a light, friendly gesture, then turned and stepped closer to Sir Ray.
I looked down at the bouquet. The red rose stood among the other flowers, surrounded by their gentle beauty. No, I thought. I am the fortunate one. Fortunate to serve her. Fortunate to be accepted by her, by Sir Ace, by Sir Ray, even by the grumpy fairy whom I considered a rival. Fortunate to be surrounded by people I could trust—people who, inexplicably, had become something like a family.
Like this rose, I was surrounded by beautiful souls. And unlike the rose’s thorns, I would use everything I had to keep them safe.
[Ray’s POV]
Prince Zephyr drew close, close enough that his breath stirred the air near my ear. His earlier levity was gone, replaced by a gravity that settled into the lines around his eyes and mouth. Those amethyst eyes, usually bright with mischief or warmth, held a deep, weary concern.
"This will be brief intel, General," he murmured, his voice so low I had to strain my enhanced hearing to catch the words. "The individuals wearing masks—they are veteran werewolf hunters. The ones who wear badges? Decoys. Sacrificial pawns, meant to draw attention and take the fall." He paused, his jaw tightening. "The guns are real, some made of dark mana stone. Fully functional. The people at the tavern were secretly talking about it."
I remained still, my expression carefully neutral, as if we were discussing the weather or the quality of the festival food.
"Full intelligence reports will arrive at the Silverhowl palace within four days," he continued. "But there is something you need to know now." His breath hitched slightly. "While I was traveling to this village, I observed three masked men departing. They carried a sack filled with spent black magic restraints."
While processing his intel and connecting it to the intel I already had, questions started to form and press against my skull, demanding answers I did not yet possess.
"I know you’re strong," he said, his voice shifting, becoming less tactical and more personal. "I know Ace is strong. Ann, certainly. Even Gale, I suspect, is more capable than he appears." His gaze flickered briefly to Gale, who was still locked in his low-grade war of glares with the stall owner. "But I do not like this. Exposing Ovelia in such a crowded, uncontrolled environment. Allowing her to accompany you on a mission this dangerous." His eyes met mine, and I saw genuine frustration there. "It’s reckless. It feels like rebellion—or a declaration of war against our kind."
"I did not want this arrangement either," I admitted, my whisper as quiet as his. "But it was our father’s direct order. Ace and I cannot defy the King." I paused, considering my next words. "That said... I do not regret her presence with us. She is learning to express her emotions openly now. Genuinely. Without fear." I thought of her showing her support with confidence to Ace at the pyramid cup, her laughter at the ring toss, her fierce determination at the stick-catching game, the way her smile had bloomed when she received the bouquet. "That alone has made this mission worthwhile."
Prince Zephyr studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "So there’s a reason she’s traveling with you beyond the mission. I understand." His voice hardened, became a command. "Then I have only one request: bring her back to the palace in one piece."
I gave a single, sharp nod.
"There is a black market operating in the dark alley at the eight o’clock direction from here," I murmured, my turn to share intelligence. "I have already spoken with the shopkeeper, but you may uncover additional information there that I missed. After we submit our collected intel to the Silverhowl palace, full reports will be dispatched to the four kingdoms—Crimsonheart, Shadow, Atlassian, and Amethyst—as swiftly as possible."
He nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Thank you."
"Aren’t we going to eat?" Gale’s voice, sharp and thoroughly irritated, cut through our quiet exchange. He was walking toward us now, with Ovelia and Ace flanking him. His gray eyes swept over the stall owner, who stood behind his counter looking utterly defeated, his earlier bravado completely hollowed out. The man appeared diminished, shrunken, as if his soul had briefly departed his body to escape the weight of Gale’s contempt.
"I will never forgive him," Gale declared, the words a low, venomous growl.
Prince Zephyr laughed—a genuine, warm sound that seemed to ease the tension in the air. "I like that expression," he said, grinning at Gale. "Your feelings are entirely valid." He glanced at the darkening sky, where the lanterns seemed to glow brighter against the encroaching night. "The festival will be ending soon. You should make your way to the performer stages ahead—the fire dancers are exceptional this year." He paused, then added with exaggerated casualness, "Oh, I almost forgot."
He leaned slightly closer to me again, his voice dropping to the barest thread of sound.
"Tell your father," he breathed, "that the Flesh Hunters have returned."
Before I could respond, before I could even fully process the weight of what he had just delivered, Prince Zephyr was already walking away. His strides were long and easy, his posture relaxing back into the casual, charming prince persona as he rejoined the flow of festival-goers.
Then he turned, walking backward for a few steps, and raised his hand in a broad wave. "I would love to talk longer, but duty calls! Take care, everyone!"
"Take care, Your Highness!" Ovelia called out, her voice bright as she waved back with enthusiasm.
Beside her, Ace lifted his hand in a brief, acknowledging wave. Ann inclined her head with quiet respect. I raised my own hand in farewell.
Gale stood with his arms crossed, his expression deliberately nonchalant, radiating a studied indifference that fooled absolutely no one.
"Let’s go," Ace said, lowering his hand. "We should buy something to eat before finding a spot to watch the performers."
A murmur of agreement rippled through our group. We turned and began to walk, leaving behind the dismantled scam stall, the defeated owner.
Ovelia chattered excitedly about the cookbook. Gale grumbled about the price of festival food. Ann walked silently beside me, her dark eyes thoughtful. Ace kept Ovelia close, his senses on alert.
Flesh Hunters. Guns made of dark mana stone.
My hand, hanging at my side, curled into a tight fist. My knuckles ached with the pressure.
Is the fragile peace we have all been protecting, the careful balance between kingdoms and species, the hard-won stability we have fought to maintain... is it all about to shatter?
