CHAPTER 188: THE PRINCESS’S CLAIM

[Lavinia’s Pov—Commoner’s Valley—continuation]

The streets of the commoner valley were far from silent, yet in that moment, the bustle seemed distant to me. My hand was still gripping Osric’s much larger one, his warm blood slick against my fingers.

"Lavi... it’s nothing," he murmured, trying to pull away, but I tightened my hold.

"Nothing? You’re bleeding!" My voice came out sharper than intended, laced with worry I couldn’t hide. "What if it’s deep? What if it gets infected? What if—"

A soft chuckle escaped him. "You’re panicking more than the wound deserves."

I glared at him, my heart thudding painfully. "Don’t laugh. This isn’t funny. You’re my person, my shield. If something happens to you—" I stopped myself before the words spilled further.

Damien approached, eyes scanning the alley. "Your Highness, we need to move. The goods are secured, and the prisoners will be taken to the dungeons." His gaze flicked to Osric’s hand, brow furrowing. "What happened?"

"An accident," Osric replied calmly, though his clenched jaw betrayed the sting.

"Accident or not," I said firmly, "we’re finding the nearest clinic. Now."

"Clinic?" Damien’s lips twitched. "Your highness, this is the commoner valley. The best you’ll get is an apothecary with questionable herbs."

"Then we’ll make do," I snapped, already scanning the street. "Or do you expect me to let his hand fester?"

For a moment, there was silence. Even Aldric, who had just returned, hid a smile behind his gauntlet.

Osric sighed, giving in. "Very well. But it truly is—"

I shot him a look that silenced any further protest. Then I turned to Aldric and Damien.

"You two," I said, firm but calm, "deliver the goods to the people. Make sure they know what happened. They deserve the truth."

Aldric’s expression softened, and Damien gave a short bow. "Yes, Your Highness," they said in unison before heading off with purposeful strides, leaving me and Osric by the quiet pond at the edge of the alley.

I scanned the surroundings and spotted a modest little stall tucked under the shade of a crooked awning, bundles of dried leaves and jars of mysterious powders hanging from its shelves. Perfect.

"Go sit there," I ordered, pointing to the worn bench near the pond. "I’ll handle this."

Osric arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Lavi, it’s just a scratch."

"Sit. Down." My tone left no room for argument.

His lips twitched, but he obeyed, moving toward the bench with the obedience of a soldier—though not without a grumble. "You treat me like a child."

"Children usually behave better," I muttered under my breath, earning a quiet chuckle.

I strode to the stall. The herbalist, an older man with sharp eyes, looked up when I approached. "I need medicinal herbs. Antiseptic, disinfectant—anything for wounds," I said briskly.

He nodded, but when his gaze lifted fully to my face, his eyes went wide. "Crown pri—"

"Sshh!" I hissed, pressing a finger to my lips and leaning closer. "Not a word. No bowing, no shouting. Just the herbs."

To his credit, he snapped his mouth shut and moved quickly, gathering bundles of clean linen and fresh-smelling leaves. "Here, Your Highness," he murmured, bowing slightly as he offered them.

I slipped a gold coin onto the counter. "My lady, this is far too much—"

"Keep it," I interrupted, already turning away.

He stammered something that might have been gratitude, but I didn’t hear it. Because when I turned back, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

A figure in a brown cloak stood far too close to Osric, her delicate fingers wrapped around his injured hand as if she had every right to touch him.

And Osric... looked furious. His sharp jaw was set, his brows drawn tight, but there was no mistaking the cold anger in his eyes.

I narrowed my gaze.

Hmm? Who the hell is she?

I walked closer to them and the cloaked figure tilted her head, a soft, cultured voice spilling from beneath the hood. "My lord... you’re gravely injured. Allow me to take you to the physician. Such a wound shouldn’t be neglected."

Her words were smooth, but Osric’s voice cut through them like steel, low and biting. "Get. Away. From. Me."

The woman flinched.

Osric tone was ice. "And how dare you touch me so carelessly... Lady Eleania."

I froze mid-step. Lady... Eleania?

I reached toward them, asking, "What’s going on here?"

Osric’s face changed instantly, the anger dissolving into a calm, practiced smile as if nothing had happened.

"Lavi!" he said lightly, as though my presence was the only thing that mattered. "What kept you late?"

But I wasn’t looking at him. My eyes were locked on Eleania. And worse—on her hand, still touching him.

Heat coiled in my chest, sharp and unpleasant. Without a second thought, I stepped forward, grabbed Osric’s injured hand, and yanked it away from hers, pushing him behind me as if shielding him from an intruder.

"Lady Eleania," I said, my voice calm but laced with steel, "you may be a lady, but you seem to lack one crucial thing—manners."

Her brows shot up in surprise, but I didn’t let her speak.

"You don’t touch another woman’s man so carelessly," I continued, my tone sharpening with each word. "Especially not mine."

The words hung heavy in the air. Osric blinked behind me—probably blushed and amused—but I didn’t care. My glare stayed fixed on Eleania, a silent warning that needed no translation.

What in the seven hells is she doing here? At Commoner’s Valley of all places?

Eleania lowered her hood, letting her black curls spill over her shoulders, and bowed slightly. A perfect curtsy, a perfect mask—except her eyes betrayed her. There was hatred there. Hatred wrapped in silk.

"Greetings, Your Highness, the Crown Princess," she purred, her voice as sweet as a poisoned apple. "I didn’t expect to run into you... like this."

Of course.

She turned her gaze to Osric, and in an instant, that venom toward me softened into something simpering. Disgust curled in my stomach as she continued in that falsely tender tone, "I was merely passing by and noticed Lord Osric—so gravely injured." Her voice dipped like she was lamenting a tragedy. "Naturally, I only wished to assist—"

"I never asked for your assistance, Lady." Osric’s voice cut through hers like steel on glass—cold, unyielding. Her pretty lips twitched.

"I—I didn’t mean to make you uneasy, my lord," she flinched and stammered, trying to regain footing. "I just thought—"

And then she moved. Stepped closer. Reaching for him again.

Oh, hell no.

I tighten Osric’s hand in mine as I face her.

"How kind," My voice was soft, almost lilting. Dangerous. A twisted smile tugged at my lips as I tilted my head ever so slightly, watching her freeze. "But Lord Osric requires no one’s help and he has someone to care for his injuries, Lady Eleania."

"And that someone," I added, voice soft but sharp enough to cut, "is me."

Osric shifted behind me—Maybe in surprise. And Eleania’s eyes flickered, hatred barely veiled.

And then My smile Thinned, "But tell me, lady Eleania—why would a noblewoman of your standing be so far from the safety of her estate, mingling where she does not belong? Surely Count Talvan does not allow his daughter to wander so freely... unless there is a reason."

Eleania’s composure cracked for a fraction of a second, her lips parting soundlessly. Then she smiled, though it was tighter than before.

"Your Highness enjoys teasing me. I came only for a walk. I sometimes visit the Commoner’s Valley. It reminds me of simpler days, before I was adopted into Count Talvan’s household."

How touching. Almost enough to make me cry. Almost.

Then she continued asking, "But I didn’t expect to see you here either, Your highness. I wonder what made you come here."

"How bold of you, Lady Eleania." My lips curved higher, sharp as a blade. "Count Talvan must have emboldened you far too much to question a Royal."

Color drained from her face, but she straightened her back, as if trying to salvage her pride. "I... I meant no offence, Your Highness—"

"And yet, you dared," I let the word linger like poison. "Remember this, Lady Eleania. A royal’s steps need no explanation, especially not to those who serve the Crown. So...I hope you do not forget your place."

Her face drained of color. "I... I didn’t mean—"

"Mm." I slipped my hand into Osric’s and laced our fingers, lifting my chin in a gesture of dismissal. "It’s been... enlightening. But sadly, we have no time to entertain you. Good day, Lady."

I turned to leave, but then—

"Wait—Princess!" Her voice rose like a crack in glass. "Lord Osric needs to be—"

She reached for me. And that was her mistake.

Before her fingers even brushed my sleeve, Osric moved—fast, furious—his hand snapping around her wrist with the precision of a soldier and the strength of a predator. His grip tightened until her breath hitched audibly.

"Lady Eleania," he said, his voice a low growl, cold enough to freeze blood. "Are you so desperate to see the inside of a dungeon? How dare you touch the Crown Princess so carelessly?"

Shock painted her face, disbelief flickering in her eyes—not at me, but at him. Like she never expected Osric to choose me over her.

I laid my hand on his arm gently, a soft tether to reel back his wrath. "Osric," I murmured, sweet and calm—but my eyes never left hers, and my smile never wavered. "Leave her. She’s already made enough of a spectacle."

Osric jaw tightened, but he obeyed, releasing her wrist.

And with that, I walked away, Osric at my side, his hand still firmly in mine. But as we walked away, I didn’t miss the way Eleania’s fingers curled into fists, nor the burning hatred that followed us like a shadow.