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Chapter 133: ’She’s A Runner’

Chapter 133: ’She’s A Runner’

Scarlett’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her wide, frantic eyes darted between Heinz’s convulsing body and Lucius, who was shouting for the knights. Her hands trembled violently, fingers curling and uncurling as if she were trying to grasp onto reality itself.

The dining hall felt suffocating—walls pressing in, the air thick and stifling. The scattered colors from the stained glass windows were too sharp, too bright, their vibrance almost mocking.

Florian had seen fear before. The princesses always feared accidentally killing the king. But the fear in Scarlett’s eyes was different.

It was almost enough to make him forget his hatred for her. Almost.

’She looks like she’s about to pass out.’

Scarlett let out a strangled gasp, stumbling back as if the ground beneath her had suddenly turned to water. Her heel caught against the polished floor, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed she would collapse.

Then—something shifted.

Her pupils shrank. Her breath hitched. And in the next instant, she ran.

’What the hell?!’

"Scarlett—!" Florian barked, instinct kicking in, but she was already gone. She shoved past him, past Lucius, her gown flaring behind her as she bolted for the doors.

Florian staggered, nearly losing his balance, but Lucius caught his arm, steadying him before turning sharply toward the door Scarlett had just vanished through.

Lucius cursed under his breath, his earlier act of feigned panic twisting into something real. "Damn it! If she yells for help—"

A sudden movement snapped Florian’s attention back to Heinz.

With a sharp inhale, Heinz abruptly sat up, his face still smeared with remnants of the fake poison. He wiped the crimson from his lips and turned to Florian, his voice low and urgent.

"Go after her. Now."

Florian clenched his jaw. Chasing after a hysterical princess was the last thing he wanted to do, especially her. But an order was an order. He clicked his tongue in irritation and took off after her.

Scarlett had a head start, but her gown hindered her, the heavy fabric dragging with every step. Still, she ran like the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

The palace corridors swallowed them whole, dim torchlight flickering along the walls as their footsteps pounded against the marble. Out of the corner of his eye, Florian caught glimpses of startled maids peeking from behind pillars, their hushed whispers already beginning to spread like wildfire.

’Great. This is going to be all over the palace by morning.’

But that wasn’t his biggest concern.

"Lady Scarlett!" he called out. No response. No hesitation. She didn’t even glance back.

Why was she running? She hadn’t poisoned Heinz. She hadn’t failed. She hadn’t done anything. So why was she acting like a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime?

With a burst of speed, Florian lunged forward, his fingers closing around her wrist just before she could reach the main corridor. He yanked her sharply to the side, pressing her back against the cool stone wall, caging her in.

"Lady Scarlett, stop—"

She fought.

Hard.

Scarlett thrashed against him, her fists swinging wildly. She was untrained, her blows messy, desperate—but sheer panic made her dangerous. A fist clipped his shoulder, another nearly cracked against his jaw before he managed to grab her wrists and slam them against the wall, pinning her in place.

’Is she fucking insane?!’

"What is wrong with you?!" Florian snapped, breathing hard. "Why are you acting like this? Calm down!"

Scarlett’s eyes were wild, glassy with unshed tears. "Don’t lock me up!" she choked out, still struggling. "Please—I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to—"

"You’re not making any sense!" he hissed, tightening his grip as she continued to fight. "Calm down—"

"I can’t—!" she gasped, shaking her head violently. "I can’t—I have to get out—I have to—"

’Fuck. It’s like a full blown tantrum’

Florian swore under his breath. She wasn’t listening. She wasn’t there. She was spiraling, her body still trembling, still trying to escape even with nowhere to run. And there was only one thing he could think of to stop her.

With a low curse, he yanked her forward—

And wrapped his arms around her.

Scarlett stiffened, her entire body going rigid. Her clenched fists pressed against his chest, still shaking. At first, she struggled, weakly pushing against him, but Florian didn’t let go. He just held her there, steady and firm, grounding her the way he used to when Kaz threw tantrums as a child.

"Just breathe," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "Calm down, Scarlett. You’re fine. No one’s locking you up. Just breathe."

A hiccup tore from her throat, her body wracked with quiet, broken sobs. Slowly—painfully slowly—her trembling subsided. Her weight sagged against him, her hands loosening, curling weakly into the fabric of his coat.

Florian sighed, loosening his grip just slightly as she buried her face into his shoulder.

"I just..." she whispered, her voice so small he barely caught it. "I just want to go home."

Florian froze.

’What?’

She sniffled, her fingers curling tighter into his coat. "I don’t want to be here. I never did. But my father—he won’t take me back. He’d rather have me die here than return disgraced. And now—" her voice cracked, "—if I killed the king, how will I ever get home?"

Florian stared down at her, stunned.

She had lied. Lied so much that even he, even Lucius, had found her suspicious. But now, for the first time—

She wasn’t lying.

She wasn’t scheming.

She wasn’t manipulating her way to the top.

Scarlett didn’t want to be here.

Of all the princesses, she was the only one who had never wanted this life.

Florian didn’t know why that realization unsettled him so much.

Scarlett kept whispering, barely audible now, but he could hear it. "I just want to go home... I just want to go home..."

A knot formed in his chest, something unfamiliar twisting in a way he didn’t like. He had always assumed she was just another contender, another power-hungry princess playing the game like the rest of them.

But she wasn’t playing.

She was trapped.

Another hiccup wracked her small frame, her shoulders trembling as she pulled back slightly. Her red-rimmed eyes searched his face, desperate, pleading. "What do I do now?" she whispered. "What do I do? Please... tell me."

Florian hesitated.

There was no easy answer. No clever remark. No taunting grin. Just silence—thick, suffocating, inescapable.

’She needs the truth... but I can’t give it to her.’

He wanted to tell her it was just part of the test, that she hadn’t actually poisoned the king. That this nightmare wasn’t real. But he couldn’t.

So, instead, all he could offer was a lie.

"He’ll be fine," Florian said, his voice quieter than he intended. "I’m sure he’ll be fine. The king’s tough. Don’t worry."

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