Married To Darkness
Chapter 302: An Unwelcome Approach

Chapter 302: An Unwelcome Approach

Carlie Ejhip basked in the adoration of the crowd, his easy grin flashing like sunlight on steel as he waved to the noblewomen who eagerly fanned themselves, calling out his name.

Their eyes shimmered with admiration, hands lifting lacy handkerchiefs in hopes that he would notice them.

But Carlie’s attention was locked elsewhere.

Across the pavilion, his gaze landed on Jean.

Seated beside Lucius, her lady’s sworn protector, Jean was the very picture of composed elegance.

Though she was merely a lady-in-waiting, she carried herself with quiet dignity, her slender frame poised, her expression unreadable.

But it was her eyes—sharp and intelligent—that caught his attention the most.

Ignoring the noblewomen vying for his time, Carlie strode forward with effortless confidence.

His dark riding boots barely made a sound on the polished stone, the lingering dust of the race still clinging to the hem of his tunic.

Whispers spread like wildfire.

"Where is he going?"

"He ignored Lady Evelyn? And the Countess’ daughter?"

"Wait—is he walking toward... a lady’s maid?"

The air shifted, tension blooming as Lucius’ glare darkened like an approaching storm.

Jean stiffened the moment she realized Carlie was coming toward her.

Beside her, Lucius sat rigid as stone, his black-gloved hands resting on his lap, his jaw tight.

He was a man of few words, but his silence now was deafening.

His normally cool expression was overshadowed by the sharp tick of his jaw, a subtle yet deadly warning.

Alaric, who had been watching the interaction unfold from his own seat, leaned back with a smirk.

He didn’t intervene—not yet. Watching Lucius boil was far too amusing.

Carlie stopped before Jean and offered his arm with an easy, charming smile.

"Lady Jean," he said smoothly, voice rich like honeyed wine. "What a delight to see you here, looking as radiant as ever."

Jean blinked once, then twice. For a brief moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

Lucius’ eyes twitched.

Jean gathered herself and stood with a polite nod, her hands neatly clasped before her.

"My lord, congratulations on your victory," she said formally, ignoring his arm. "It was a fine race."

Carlie tilted his head, amused by her cold civility.

"I appreciate the kind words, but I’d much rather hear them over a drink." His eyes flickered toward the pavilion where refreshments were being served. "Perhaps you’d care to join me?"

Jean didn’t even hesitate. "No."

Carlie let out a low chuckle. "That was rather quick."

Jean kept her expression smooth, but the edge in her tone sharpened. "I am here in service to Lady Salviana, not for personal engagements."

Carlie leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only she could hear. "Pity. I do enjoy a challenge."

Jean exhaled sharply, turning to go. "Then I suggest you seek one elsewhere."

The refusal was crisp, polite, and final.

The entire time, Lucius had not moved, but the sheer force of his presence was like a blade unsheathed.

His fingers flexed slightly, the only visible sign of his barely restrained fury.

Carlie could feel the heat of Lucius’ glare burning into the side of his head, but rather than be intimidated, he smirked and turned his attention to the knight.

"Who might you be?" Carlie asked

"Dracula" Lucius deadpanned.

Carlie laughed maniacally as if Lucius was joking before glancing and noticing Alaric’s serious gaze, "Lucius, Miss Jeans personal knight," Alaric said.

"Lucius," Carlie greeted with mock cordiality. "Keeping your watchful eye on our dear Lady Jean, I see."

Lucius did not respond. He merely stared, his black eyes devoid of amusement. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Carlie, never one to shy away from danger, grinned like a man who had just poked a sleeping beast with a stick.

Alaric, who had been enjoying this far too much, finally spoke up. "Careful, Carlie," he said with a laugh. "Lucius isn’t exactly known for his patience."

Carlie exhaled, tilting his head slightly before stepping back.

"No need for bloodshed," he mused, flashing Jean one last look before offering a slight bow.

"Until next time, my lady."

Jean said nothing. She simply gave a curt nod and turned away.

Carlie left with an amused chuckle, clearly entertained.

Lucius, however, sat completely still, watching Carlie retreat with the same expression one might give a target they were planning to eliminate.

Jean pretended not to notice. But her heart was racing.

Not because of Carlie’s flirtation.

But because of the way Lucius’ presence beside her burned like a silent, unspoken promise.

Then the fanfare of trumpets pierced the air, sending ripples of excitement through the gathered crowd. The announcer’s booming voice rang across the tournament grounds:

"The next event, esteemed lords and ladies, is none other than the great jousting tournament! Let the contenders prepare themselves for glory!"

A wave of cheers erupted, eager murmurs spreading like wildfire.

This was no simple game—it was a test of strength, precision, and honor.

And among the competitors were none other than Prince Jaron and Prince Warren.

Behind the jousting arena, the competitors hurried to prepare.

Knights and warriors of various renown were already in the process of donning their armor, fastening breastplates, adjusting their gauntlets, and securing their helmets.

The scent of oiled leather, polished steel, and horses filled the enclosed space.

Jaron was in his element.

"I hope they’re ready to taste dirt," he said smugly, rolling his shoulders as a squire helped tighten the straps of his silver-plated armor.

His golden-blond hair shone under the torchlight, and his blue eyes twinkled with arrogance.

One of the knights, a broad-shouldered warrior with a battle-worn face, chuckled darkly. "Confidence is good, Your Highness. But the lance does not care for pretty words."

Jaron grinned, unaffected. "Neither does my aim."

The knight snorted, clearly unimpressed, but before he could respond, Warren stepped forward, fully armored.

Warren—Steady and Focused

Unlike Jaron, Warren was not smiling. His face was a mask of quiet focus, his sharp features shadowed beneath his steel helm.

His armor was heavier, reinforced at the chest and shoulders, built for endurance and precision. A true warrior’s armor.

"Bragging won’t win you the tournament," Warren murmured as he fastened his gauntlets.

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AN; The Game Book will be a word game book.

MTD will be releasing its word game book before Or in march, please anticipate