Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1023: Assault

Chapter 1023: Assault

<I’m moving closer to the Ravenshade delegation,> Iris declared flatly, already halfway out of her seat.

<I’ll take Greenvale then,> Lucille added.

Aurora’s voice chimed in before the two loose cannons could do something problematic. <Neither of you is a stealth-oriented person. If they’re even half as paranoid as they should be, they’ll have counters in place. This is not the place to brute-force subtlety. You’ll be found out and ruin everything.>

Before the pair could begin protesting, Aurora finished her statement. <So bring Blossom and Kitsara with you… Vex is pretty good at stealth too, just don’t let her open her mouth needlessly…>

<Hey! I’m in control now, that was just a slip of the tongue…> The Hexwitch didn’t like what she was hearing, but Aurora pointedly ignored her.

<Sounds good to me,> Lucille said, being surprisingly compliant. She was more in control of her emotions than they expected.

However, unlike the delicate berserker, Iris didn’t respond right away.

Because this wasn’t “good” to her.

She stood still, eyes drifting across the hall full of polished enemies and smiling knives, before finally turning toward Blossom.

A part of her hesitated.

Not out of mistrust but out of something else entirely.

Iris wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t part of the Elysiar family. She wasn’t bonded to Quinlan through blood, soul, or bed. Even back at the Consortium, she held the same rank as him. She wasn’t a subordinate. And here in this banquet of wolves, she was the outsider. A fighter they tolerated. A knife they borrowed. She had no real place among the Elysiar family, or so she believed.

Hell, people like Kaelira and Lyra were much closer to them than her, yet she was here while they remained at home. Why?

Could she really ask Blossom, the first wife and beloved battle partner of Quinlan, to tag along as if she were Iris’s subordinate here to help her do the dirty work of the personal revenge she wasn’t good enough to mete out alone?

Before the silence stretched too long, Blossom rose cheerily and twirled a little in her otherworldly, cute dress, which the girls had selected for her for the occasion. Her soft dogkin tail swayed in full view as she announced in a sing-song voice, “Goldie wants to search for sweets~!”

Heads turned briefly at the childish statement, but they didn’t linger long. At least, not openly. Staring wasn’t proper etiquette.

Blossom tilted her nose slightly toward the Ravenshade table, sniffing once, then added while cutely placing the tips of her two pointer fingers together, “Will someone help her?”

The request was innocent on the surface, but beneath the high pitch and pouting cheeks, the message was clear.

She wanted to help while also giving Iris a cover to move closer to the Ravenshades. And she did that all without making the conflicted woman feel like a burden. After all, Blossom was asking her to help her get some sweets, not offering to help with reconnaissance.

Iris, of course, understood all of this very well. Blossom was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. As such, the Child of Reckoning blinked, flustered, and glanced aside.

It was absurd how fast her throat tightened.

Her thoughts, unwillingly, flashed back to the trial they all underwent after inhaling Rosie’s magical flower, coming under its influence.

The heavy perfume of illusions and hallucinations that cracked open her buried fears and showed her the one truth she hadn’t admitted to herself in all her life:

She didn’t have to fight alone anymore.

She could trust this strange, ridiculous, reckless group.

Deep down, she wanted to.

And right now, just like back then…

She was reminded of it all over again.

Iris took a deep breath. Her palm clenched the side of her dress, a dress she hated. It was soft, silky, and draped across her in all the ways that made her want to crawl out of her skin.

The thigh slit was far too generous. The neckline dipped like it was trying to compete with the ocean trench. She could feel eyes on her even while seated, and she knew damn well she looked good.

Too good for someone who used to swing a blade in ragged armor and sleep in dirt.

But there she was.

Not a deserter who ran away from the army. Not a mercenary. Not even a guard protecting the royal family or the nobles.

She was an officially accepted guest at the King’s 1000th birthday feast.

And it was all thanks to one man.

Her eyes flicked toward him, toward Quinlan, the man she was supposedly married to for the day. The fake husband. The supposed villain.

But he was watching her with that infuriating calm again, like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She quickly looked away with her cheeks flushing just slightly.

“… I can help you, Gold,” Iris murmured shyly.

A few glances from nearby nobles turned their way, but none dared speak.

She stood, fixed her dress with practiced indifference, and followed Blossom with long strides.

Vex and Kitsara did the same, just going with Lucille toward the Greenvales instead with the intention of finding good alcohol.

*Thud!*

A sharp sound cut through the growing hum of noble conversation.

Blossom stumbled forward with a shocked yelp leaving her lips. Her delicate form hit the polished floor gracelessly as the hem of her dress snagged and ripped against the jagged edge of a chair’s foot. The rather faint sound of silk tearing was somehow louder than everything else.

Gasps echoed in the air.

Iris came out of her momentary stupor due to the many emotions she felt, only to see Blossom crumpled awkwardly on the floor with one knee scraped and her once-beautiful pastel blue dress now torn wide along her side.

The cut exposed a sliver of skin, nothing indecent, but the image of the wonderful, noble-spirited girl who just made such a sweet gesture toward her made Iris forget about the myriad of thoughts she just entertained as an old emotion she was the most acquainted with overwhelmed all others:

Wrath.

“What gives?!” she snarled.

A nobleman, slim, sharp-faced, with a ringlet of curled blond hair and a sneer carved into his face, had the gall to smirk with his feet still placed in Blossom’s path.

He didn’t even try to hide it.

“I’m terribly sorry, my lady,” he drawled with a voice that was mockingly polite. “Did the disgusting mutt stumble because of little old me?”

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he returned his attention to Blossom and…

“Ptui!”

He spat, right toward her lush, golden-blonde hair.

A gob of wet spit arced through the air.

The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!