A Royal Obligation
Chapter 256: The Fugitive’s Plight (4)

Chapter 256: The Fugitive’s Plight (4)

The woman’s head lolled weakly, her hollow eyes fluttering open just enough to register the water. Her chapped lips quivered as the first few drops touched them, and something faint, fragile but alive, stirred within her. With a desperate gasp, she latched onto the waterskin, her entire body trembling as she drank greedily, as though each sip was the only thing tethering her to life.

Her thin, skeletal fingers twitched feebly, as if trying to grab hold of the waterskin. They lacked the strength even to curl fully, falling back limply. Drystan adjusted his grip, holding it steady for her, his movements painstakingly gentle. Each gulp she took cut through the tense silence, the sound harsh and raw, stabbing at Drystan’s heart like a dagger.

"Take it easy," he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His hand steadied the waterskin as he slowed the flow. When she drank too fast, he gently pulled it back. "You’ll choke. Easy now."

But she couldn’t stop. She drank with a ferocity that was both heartbreaking and terrifying, her frail body trembling violently with the effort. Her sunken cheeks and hollowed collarbones painted a picture of relentless suffering. How long? Drystan wondered, his stomach churning. How long had she been like this? How long had she endured Carl’s cruelty?

From the side, Carl’s agonized screams punctuated the air, grating against Drystan’s nerves like nails on steel. He gritted his teeth, his patience unraveling with each piercing shriek. Without looking away from the woman, he barked, "Shut him up. Tie his hand before he bleeds out."

One of the Zephyros men hesitated, his voice hesitant. "But, sir..."

"I said tie him up!" Drystan roared, his sharp gaze flicking to the soldier. His eyes burned with fury, his voice reverberating through the clearing. "I don’t want him dead. Prince Kaelix needs him alive."

The soldier flinched but obeyed, nodding quickly as he rushed to Carl’s side. Another soldier followed, their movements brisk as they grabbed Carl, wrestling him to the ground despite his frantic flailing.

Carl howled, his voice a mix of pain and unrestrained fury. "Get your filthy hands off me!" he bellowed, his good hand clawing desperately at the ground. "Drystan! You’ll regret this! Do you hear me? You’ll..."

A sharp blow to the back of Carl’s head silenced him mid-sentence, his body slumping with a groan. The soldiers worked efficiently, binding his bleeding stump as Carl writhed weakly. The clearing finally fell silent, save for the soft, desperate gurgles of the frail woman drinking and Amelia’s labored breaths.

Amelia stood frozen a few steps away, her wide eyes glassy with shock. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, her hands trembling uncontrollably. The blood splattered on her dress, the spray from Carl’s severed hand, felt icy and foreign against her skin, as if it didn’t belong there.

Her gaze darted between Drystan and the woman in his arms, confusion and horror etched deeply into her face. Who is she? Why is she so important to him? The thoughts tangled in her mind, the questions pressing in on her as she watched Drystan’s tenderness, the stark contrast to the brutal, unyielding man who had sliced through Carl without a second thought.

The metallic tang of blood mixed with the earthy scent of the forest, filled her nostrils. She swallowed hard, bile rising in her throat. Her body felt distant, like it didn’t quite belong to her. She stumbled back a step, her foot crunching on a twig, but no one seemed to notice.

Finally, the frail woman pulled back slightly from the waterskin, her lips trembling. Her breaths came in shallow, labored gasps, and her thin shoulders heaved with the effort. She tried to speak, but her voice was barely a whisper, the words broken and weak. "W-where... my... son..."

Drystan froze, his breath catching audibly in his throat. His wide eyes softened, his chest tightening with an emotion that felt too raw to contain. He leaned closer, his voice trembling as he spoke. "He’s safe," he said, though the words felt hollow even to him. His throat tightened further as he continued, desperation edging into his tone. "You’ll see him soon. Just... just stay with me, okay?"

Amelia’s gaze shifted to the woman, her frail form and haunting voice send a shiver down her spine. Her lips parted to ask, but the words caught in her throat.

The woman’s shallow breathing and trembling form forced Drystan into a sense of urgency. Without hesitation, he looped an arm beneath her legs and hoisted her up with surprising gentleness, ignoring the strain on his muscles.

"She needs rest," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His eyes hardened as they shifted toward the others. "Tie them both up."

Amelia’s head snapped up, her face a mixture of shock and desperation. "Wait! I’m not his accomplice! I was his hostage too!" she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Carl, who was still groaning in pain, cradling his bound, bleeding wrist.

Drystan turned to her slowly, his expression cold and unreadable. His piercing gaze swept over her, scrutinizing every inch of her dirt-streaked dress, disheveled hair, and pale face. "You don’t look like a hostage to me," he said flatly, his voice dripping with skepticism.

"I am!" Amelia insisted, her voice rising in pitch. "I’ve been his prisoner for weeks! He, he dragged me into all of this!"

Drystan’s lip curled in mild amusement, though there was no kindness in it. "Save your lies for someone who cares," he sneered. "It’s not my place to decide your guilt, or your fate. That’s for Prince Kaelix to judge." He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "But if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll make sure you regret opening it."

Amelia’s lips trembled, and she swallowed her retort, her fear outweighing her indignation.

The captain of the Warcrest Sentinels stepped forward, his crimson-plated armor catching the faint light filtering through the trees. He gestured toward his men, who were already mounting their horses. "We’ve done our part here, Drystan. The others need us more than you do. We’ll leave you to handle this mess."

Drystan glanced at him, giving a curt nod of gratitude. "You’ve done enough. Thank you, Captain."

The Warcrest captain gave a brief nod before pulling himself onto his horse. With a sharp command, his men rode off, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.

Now it was just Drystan, the Zephyros soldiers, and their captives.

One of the soldiers roughly pulled Carl to his feet, eliciting a pained groan. Carl’s face contorted as he glared daggers at them, his anger cutting through the haze of his pain. "You’re wasting your time," he spat at Drystan. "I’m not the one you should be after. If you want someone to blame, go after my father. He’s the one responsible for everything!"

Drystan smirked, but it wasn’t a look of amusement, it was the kind of smile that made Carl’s stomach twist. "Don’t worry," Drystan said, his voice laced with dark confidence. "Your father will join you soon enough."

Carl’s brows knitted in confusion. "What... what do you mean by that?" he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.

Drystan didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to Amelia, who was already being tied up by another soldier. She looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes, but he offered her no reassurance.

Satisfied, Drystan turned back to the frail woman, who was now leaning heavily against a tree, her strength barely holding her upright. He approached her, his movements softening as he knelt by her side. "Come on," he murmured, slipping an arm around her waist to support her. "We’re leaving this place."

He guided her to his horse, lifting her onto the saddle with care. Her head lolled forward, resting weakly against his chest as he climbed up behind her, keeping her steady.

Carl and Amelia, tied together and tethered to one of the spare horses, had no choice but to follow as the group set off. The sound of hooves echoed against the forest floor, fading as they left the bloodstained clearing behind.