The Royal Mark-Chapter 67: Tiny Fireballs

Chris wore a sly grin, noticing Elsa’s bewildered expression. He had been deeply hurt by their earlier conversation, which had led him to leave the castle, seeking comfort in alcohol and catching up with his people. Turning away from Elsa, he addressed the werewolves, declaring, "Ladies, you know what to do. One of you might soon be my Luna and Queen. But for tonight, let’s celebrate my return to Vectus! Yeah!"

A chorus of cheers erupted among the crowd, and the women eagerly surrounded Chris, touching him wherever they could as they guided him back to the bonfire. Meanwhile, Andrius and Drake were handed bottles of beer and pulled toward the center by some of the men and women too.

Elsa stood rooted to her spot, her fists clenched, caught off guard by Chris’s proclamation. She was momentarily dumbfounded but swiftly consumed by anger as she watched the women caress him and encroach upon his personal space.

Unknown to anyone, even Elsa herself, flames began to flicker around her fists, fueled by her seething rage. She was so infuriated that she harbored a desire to confront each and every one of those women who dared to touch him.

As the crowd made their way towards the bonfire, the flames suddenly surged, causing everyone to step back, away from the raging fire. Gasps and exclamations filled the air from the people facing Chris, Andrius, and Drake who followed their gaze, only to behold a woman ablaze with fury—an enraged woman.

"Shit!" Chris blurted out when he saw Elsa, her fists enveloped in towering flames, her eyes glowing a bright orange. He started to move towards her, but Andrius stopped him.

"She seems unstable; don’t risk your life. She could obliterate you with a single blow," Andrius cautioned.

"Elsa, are you with us?" Drake called out. He took a cautious step back when Elsa’s intense gaze fell upon him.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?" Elsa responded, her voice full of defiance.

Drake and Andrius breathed sighs of relief, knowing well the dangers of mages losing control over their powers and becoming destructive.

Andrius cautiously inquired, "Are you sure you have control over your power?"

Elsa, puzzled, asked, "What power are you talking about?"

Chris chimed in, "Your hands are on fire."

Elsa, infuriated, pointed an accusatory finger at Chris, snapping, "You! Don’t talk to me, you filthy, perverted womanizer mutt!"

Four tiny fireballs shot from her hand, striking Chris in the chest and burning holes in his shirt. Elsa herself was taken aback by the scene, her wide eyes fixed on her flaming hands.

"Oh... my... God! I’m on fire!" Elsa screamed, frantically shaking her hands in an attempt to extinguish the flames.

"Calm down, princess," Chris suggested, earning an angry glare from Elsa.

"Calm down? It’s impossible! I am absolutely furious at you right now; calmness has been completely erased from my vocabulary!" Elsa shouted, and the flames surrounding her hands intensified. "Ah! Help! I can’t put it out!"

The next moment, a bucket of water was thrown at Elsa.

"What the heck!" Elsa exclaimed, her hair and dress thoroughly soaked. The water was chilly, and the wind only added to her discomfort.

"There, the fire is out. You can thank me later, ’princess’," a woman clad in scanty leather armor remarked, her smirk suggesting she knew exactly what she was doing. With a wink at Chris and a blown kiss, she turned away, which Elsa couldn’t help but notice.

"You...!" Elsa began to step toward the woman, but she was halted when someone draped a towel around her shoulders.

"You should dry off, or you might catch a cold. Come, let me help you, Your Highness," Elsa turned to find an old woman offering a reassuring smile.

Elsa shot one final glare in Chris’ direction before following the old woman.

"I apologize for my granddaughter’s behavior. Her name is Laura, and she’s a hybrid—half-werewolf, half-human. Her mother is a fire mage, so she has some knowledge of magic. However, she doesn’t possess magical abilities herself, which can make her a bit envious when she sees someone with them," the elderly woman explained apologetically as they walked away from the festivities and headed to her house.

"Is she more werewolf than human? Can she transform?" Elsa inquired curiously.

"Yes, she can transform, but she’s more intrigued by magic than a wolf’s strength and abilities. Please forgive her, Your Highness."

Elsa responded, "No hard feelings from me. I was just startled because the water was cold."

The old woman offered Elsa a brown dress, but she made a face and said, "Ugh... I think I’ll stick with my dress. It’s just water; it will dry up quickly."

"I’m sorry, Your Highness, but we don’t have expensive clothes here. All our belongings were left behind in Arcanis," the old woman explained.

Elsa shook her head, saying, "No, no, no. This dress is pretty, and I don’t mind the price, but it’s just too revealing. Plus, it’s a cold night. A sexy dress like this might make me cold, you know what I mean?"

The old woman chuckled, "Oh, I forgot that you’re human. I’m so comfortable around you that for a moment, I forget you’re not one of us. How about this: wear this dress while I dry your dress. Stay here, make yourself at home."

Elsa smiled and nodded, "That would be much better, thank you." She changed into the brown dress, which turned out to be a halter, backless, floor-length dress with a deep neckline and two front slits. As she stood before the mirror, she mused to herself, "This is something I’d wear back in my world, perhaps at our annual ball. It’s too sexy for this place."

"It doesn’t matter what you wear; you’ll always look stunning in anything. But I prefer you in nothing," Chris remarked, making Elsa quickly turn around to see him smirking while leaning against the doorframe. He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"Why are you here?" Elsa asked with an irritated tone.

"Checking on my mate, of course," Chris replied, causing Elsa to gasp as he suddenly jumped towards her. He wrapped his arms around her back and waist as he nuzzled his hose against her neck, inhaling her scent. "Your smell is so addicting, I can’t help but go to you."