Sold To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 22: Is She A Monster?

Aveline walked ahead with the lantern in one hand, talking almost without pause to the guard in black trailing a step behind her. The path through the courtyard was quiet except for her voice and the soft scrape of their boots over the stone.

For some reason, the man refused to answer.

Not even a grunt.

Not even a sigh.

And that irritated her more than open rudeness ever could. When Aveline became irritated, she talked. Unfortunately for the unfortunate soul beside her, she talked a lot.

"Are you deaf, Shadow Spider?" she asked at last, glancing back at him. It seemed like the only reasonable explanation. The man had not made a single sound since she dragged him away from the hall.

He continued walking in silence.

Aveline frowned thoughtfully. "Then how do you take commands?" she continued, completely serious. "Does someone write them down for you? Signs? But that would be inconvenient... especially at night. And how do you read in the dark?"

The man behind her remained as quiet as a gravestone.

Aveline suddenly stopped walking.

The guard nearly collided with her before managing to halt himself at the last moment. She turned to face him, lantern lifted, the warm glow illuminating her curious expression and wide eyes.

"Ah!" she gasped suddenly, as though a terrible possibility had just occurred to her. "Do you suffer from that illness where people burst into flames when light touches them? Is that why you stay in the shadows? It must also explain why you walk around like a spider."

The man lowered his head.

His entire body had gone rigid. His hands were clenched so tightly that the leather of his gloves creaked under the pressure of his fingers.

He had endured torture before.

Real torture.

The kind that left bones cracked and skin torn open.

He had endured it without uttering a single word.

But this woman and her endless questions... particularly her alarming obsession with spiders, were testing the very limits of his discipline. A dark and extremely satisfying vision of simply beheading her flashed briefly across his mind.

Unfortunately, he also knew that if he did such a thing, his liege would likely resurrect him just to kill him again.

His head throbbed. His shoulders felt oddly heavy from walking at her pace, and his dignity had long since collapsed somewhere behind them on the courtyard stones.

"My liege calls me the Shadow Strider, milady," he finally said through clenched teeth.

If telling her would end this torment, he would gladly give her that much.

Aveline blinked in surprise. "Oh! So you can talk," she said brightly. "And that’s your name?"

The man said nothing.

She tilted her head. "Did the prince buy you as well? You don’t have a real name?"

She stared at him expectantly, with the patience of someone who looked entirely capable of waiting until the rivers themselves dried up.

The man exhaled slowly.

"Kael Vantaris," he said at last, sounding like a soldier accepting a death sentence.

Aveline repeated it thoughtfully. "Sir Kael Vantaris... the Shadow Strider..."

She nodded as if considering it very seriously.

"Still," she concluded, turning and continuing down the path with a little skip in her step, "Shadow Spider is better."

Kael clenched his jaw so hard it ached.

After several long steps of silence, he finally spoke again, unable to help himself.

"What is your obsession with spiders?" he asked stiffly. At this point he genuinely needed to know whether she was some mind-reading witch pretending to be innocent. There was something about her that felt... wrong. He simply could not place it.

Aveline turned her head to look at him, the lantern swinging slightly in her hand and casting strange shadows across her face.

"Spiders are adorable," she said with complete sincerity. "You are too."

Then she turned forward again and continued skipping along the stone path.

Kael’s fingers twitched.

This woman thought spiders were adorable.

What kind of monster was she?

After a moment of silence, Aveline spoke again, her curiosity clearly returning with renewed enthusiasm.

"Are you and Theron close?" she asked. "Do you serve the Crown Prince directly? What is he like?"

She had finally succeeded in making the man speak earlier, and she had no intention of letting the opportunity go to waste. If she was going to be handed over to this mysterious prince, gathering information seemed like a very wise idea.

"Ther—"

Kael stopped himself abruptly. His hands tightened into fists again. Even hearing her say his liege’s name so casually grated on his nerves.

For reasons he could not understand, his liege appeared strangely... fond of this woman. The thought irritated him more than he cared to admit.

"My liege is betrothed," he said curtly.

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he had spoken far more than he should have. His liege had been very clear that this woman was not supposed to know anything about him.

Aveline slowed and turned toward him.

The information, however, did not seem particularly shocking to her. A crown prince having a marriage agreement was hardly surprising. That had nothing to do with her.

"What is your liege like?" she asked again, far more interested in that question.

Kael pressed his lips together, clearly unwilling to answer. Instead, he lifted his hand and pointed ahead.

"Is that your parents’ grave?"

Aveline followed his gesture.

The lantern light fell across two simple stone markers beneath an old tree.

She fell silent immediately.

The lively curiosity vanished from her face as though someone had quietly extinguished a candle. She walked forward without another word and knelt beside the graves, brushing dirt and fallen leaves away from the weathered stone.

Kael watched her for a moment.

Then he let out a long breath of relief.

Crisis averted.

-----

Back in the study, the air felt heavier than before.

Theodore stood near the desk, his arms folded loosely, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed the unease behind the gesture. Across the room, Theron rested one hand on the back of the worn armchair that had once belonged to Adelric, his gaze drifting briefly across the familiar furniture before returning to Theodore.

"Are you going to marry her?" Theodore asked.

The question came without hesitation.

Theron glanced at him, mildly surprised by the bluntness of it.

Theodore held his gaze steadily.

Yes, he understood why Aveline had called him her fiancé earlier. The arrangement had existed long before any of this happened. His uncle had made sure of that. Back then, it had seemed like a reasonable plan.

But a lot had changed from then. They’d been through five long, difficult years.

During that time, he and Aveline had endured more together than most couples ever would. He had seen her at her worst—frightened, exhausted, wounded in ways no one else had witnessed. He had seen the scars she tried to hide and more skin than any nobleman was supposed to see on a woman who was not his wife.

Yet through all of that...

Something had always been missing.

That strange, undeniable pull people spoke about when they talked about love.

If he were honest with himself, he could say with certainty that Aveline felt the same way.

They cared deeply for one another. They trusted each other without question. When one of them fell, the other stood ready to protect them.

But their affection had never carried the kind of curiosity that pushed two people closer together. It had never crossed that invisible line that separated comfort from desire.

They were companions.

Family.

More like siblings who had survived the same storm rather than lovers meant to share the same future.

And now Theron had appeared.

Aveline liked Theron. That much was clear even to Theodore, though he did not entirely understand why.

If something truly existed between them... Theodore could accept it.

He could even step aside.

As long as Theron’s intentions were sincere.

But that trust was difficult to grant so easily, especially after learning that Theron had bought her.

"Do you love her?" Theodore asked quietly.

The question caught Theron off guard.

For a moment, he simply looked at Theodore, as though measuring the weight behind those words.

Then Theron smiled faintly. "Love?"