Chapter 167: Sweet Retribution

Chapter 167: Chapter 167: Sweet Retribution

Vaelen sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, fury flashing across his face.

For a moment, he forgot all about formalities.

"You dare lay a hand on me?"

Elysia did not look the least bit shaken.

"So what if I did?" she replied calmly. "Go ahead and complain. I won’t admit to anything. Let’s see who believes you."

There was something almost liberating about saying it.

She had spent too many years worrying about what others thought of her, too many years measuring every word and action against Vaelen’s temper. Now, standing before him with Deborah still clutching her injured ankle, she felt surprisingly light.

She had done what she wanted to do.

And she did not regret it.

With that thought, Elysia turned to leave.

"Stop right there!"

Vaelen’s voice rang out behind her.

Ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his knee, he pushed himself upright and lunged towards her, reaching for her arm.

But ever since what had happened at the garrison, Elysia had been far more alert whenever someone approached her suddenly.

The instant she saw his hand reaching for her, her body reacted before she had time to think.

She pivoted sideways, smoothly slipping out of his grasp.

Vaelen’s fingers closed around nothing but air.

His momentum carried him forward.

Unable to regain his balance, he crashed down onto both knees with a heavy thud.

A sharp bolt of pain shot up his leg, twisting his handsome features.

Elysia looked back.

Then she burst out laughing.

"Serves you right."

The words had barely left her mouth when something strange prickled at the back of her mind.

Her laughter faded.

Almost instinctively, Elysia lifted her head.

Not far away, beneath a canopy of tangled garden branches, Cassiel sat alone in his wheelchair.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the leaves, casting broken patches of light across the path and the man sitting beneath the shade.

He had clearly been there for some time.

And he had seen everything.

Cassiel watched them with an unreadable calm. There was even something faintly amused in his eyes, as though he had been given a front-row seat to a particularly entertaining performance.

Elysia’s stomach dropped.

The laughter died on her lips.

She immediately lowered her gaze, suddenly finding the ground far more interesting than the man sitting beneath the trees.

Of all the people who could have witnessed that scene...

Why did it have to be Cassiel?

When she was bullied and fought back, Cassiel would undoubtedly stand behind her. He had never been the sort of man to let anyone mistreat his wife.

But that did not mean she could go around starting fights whenever she pleased.

And no matter how much Vaelen had provoked her, he was still Cassiel’s nephew.

Cassiel had seen her kick him.

Twice, if one counted Deborah.

Would he think she was wild and unreasonable?

The thought made Elysia’s heart sink.

After all, men preferred gentle, sweet women.

At least, that was what she had been told all her life.

And she had just spent the afternoon kicking people.

She stole another quick glance towards Cassiel.

His expression remained impossible to read.

Elysia immediately lowered her eyes again.

Meanwhile, Vaelen forced himself upright.

The pain in his knee made his movements stiff, but he still managed to straighten his clothes before turning towards Cassiel.

He offered his uncle a restrained bow.

"Uncle."

Deborah was still sitting on the ground.

She had watched Cassiel appear with a flicker of surprise, but that surprise quickly gave way to another opportunity.

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Your Grace, forgive me. Her kick hurt so badly that I cannot stand. I’m afraid I cannot greet you properly."

Cassiel said nothing.

His gaze remained on her.

The silence made Deborah swallow.

Still, she pressed on.

"She kicked His Highness as well."

A quiet hum escaped Cassiel’s throat.

"I saw."

Deborah’s heart tightened.

She had expected him to question Elysia, perhaps reprimand her for behaving so violently towards Vaelen.

Instead, he sounded almost indifferent.

She hurried to explain.

"I don’t know why she suddenly acted like that. Perhaps because His Highness and I are now betrothed, and she—"

"If I could stand," Cassiel interrupted coolly, "I would have given you both a couple of kicks myself."

Silence fell.

Deborah stared at him.

Vaelen stared at him.

Even Elysia looked up in shock.

For a moment, no one seemed to know how to respond.

Cassiel’s expression remained perfectly calm, as though he had said something completely ordinary.

Elysia blinked at him.

Had she heard that correctly?

Cassiel glanced towards her.

"Come on."

His voice softened when he spoke again.

"Lysa, we’re going home."

The change in his tone was so immediate that Elysia’s heart gave a strange little flutter.

Lysa.

Elysia stared at him for a moment before quickly looking away.

Then she walked over obediently.

She stopped beside his wheelchair, still somewhat stunned by what had just happened.

Cassiel did not say anything else.

He simply turned his wheelchair and began making his way back.

Elysia followed him without another word.

Behind them, Vaelen and Deborah remained where they were, both too stunned to react.

Vaelen could not wrap his mind around what he had just witnessed.

He had expected Cassiel to reprimand Elysia.

At the very least, he had expected him to tell her that she had gone too far.

Instead, Cassiel had defended her without hesitation.

No.

It was more than that.

He had practically admitted that if he could stand, he would have kicked them himself.

Vaelen stared at his uncle’s retreating back, bewilderment slowly replacing the anger in his chest.

What exactly had Elysia done to have Cassiel wrapped around her finger like this?

And then there was that name.

Lysa.

So intimate.

So natural.

Vaelen’s expression darkened.

He used to be the only one outside her family who called her that.

The thought lingered unpleasantly in his mind as he looked at the two figures disappearing down the path.

Beside him, Deborah shifted and tried to catch his attention.

"Your Highness..."

Her voice had turned soft and fragile again, as though she hoped that the familiar sweetness might stir his sympathy.

Vaelen finally snapped back to reality.

He looked down at her.

Whatever softness had appeared in his expression earlier was gone.

His gaze was icy.

"Don’t pull something like that again."

Deborah blinked.

She had not expected those words.

"Your Highness, I—"

But Vaelen had already turned away.

He walked off without another word, leaving Deborah sitting on the ground with her injured ankle and her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

Her nails dug into her palms.

Elysia.

It was all Elysia’s fault.

The resentment that had been buried inside her for years rose again with renewed force.

She remembered the incident from their childhood.

When Elysia had been nine, she had beaten the boy from the neighbouring household after discovering what he had done to Deborah. The entire Hartwell family had heard about it.

General Calen had gone straight to the palace to see King Zephyrus.

And what happened afterwards?

That very day, the neighbouring family had been reassigned and sent out of Caelvyr overnight.

Meanwhile, Elysia’s parents and brother had not blamed her.

They had praised her decisiveness.

They had told her that she was worthy of the Hartwell name.

And as though that were not enough, they had rewarded her with a large box of honey.

Deborah remembered watching all of it with envy.

She had thought that perhaps, once her family learned what had happened, they would praise her as well.

Instead, when she returned home, she had been met with furious scolding.

Her mother had accused her of being shameless, of risking her reputation over a few sweets.

Her father had said she had disgraced the Corvis family and humiliated him in front of General Calen.

Deborah had been hurt.

Furious.

And, beneath it all, ashamed.

She had regretted ever telling Elysia about what had happened.

If she had kept quiet, perhaps none of this would have happened.

If Elysia had not interfered, perhaps her parents would never have known.

She had blamed Elysia for making everything public.

And now, years later, that resentment had only grown.

Why did every good thing revolve around Elysia?

Why did every good person seem to favour her?

Even Cassiel.

Even Vaelen.

Even her own family had once praised her for doing what Deborah herself had been punished for.

Was she not worthy too?

Deborah’s nails dug deeper into her palms.

One day, she would take everything Elysia had.

Everything.

Meanwhile, on the carriage ride back to Draevenor Manor, Elysia sat unusually still.

She kept sneaking glances at Cassiel from the corner of her eye.

He sat opposite her, calm as ever, his expression giving away little.

Elysia tried to read his mood.

Was he angry?

Disappointed?

Amused?

She could not tell.

After several failed attempts to determine what he was thinking, she lowered her gaze again.

She wondered whether she should speak first.

Perhaps she should apologise.

After all, she had kicked his nephew in the knee.

And then there was the matter of Deborah.

She had kicked her too.

Twice.

Perhaps Cassiel really had thought her behaviour excessive.

Elysia’s fingers tightened slightly in her lap.

She was still gathering the courage to speak when Cassiel’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Did it hurt?"

Elysia jumped.

She looked up at him.

For a moment, she did not understand what he meant and, in her panic, she immediately began to explain her actions.

"I didn’t mean to."

Her voice became smaller.

"Deborah faked that fall and tried to make me fetch a physician for her. She kept saying things that were just... disgusting."

She lowered her head.

"I lost my temper."

Her fingers twisted together.

"I know I was wrong. Please don’t be upset. I won’t do that again."