The Princess' Harem
Chapter 96: Whispers in the Desert Night

Chapter 96: Whispers in the Desert Night

"Then we keep going," Viana said simply, her gaze unwavering. Her conviction was absolute. There was no other choice. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider failure.

Rayne’s jaw tightened, making Viana thought she saw a muscle jumping in his cheek. His nature as the crown prince of Valendale had instilled a deep caution, especially concerning unknown territories.

"And if we’re being followed?" he pressed, his eyes darting towards the vast, dark emptiness beyond their firelight. "The desert hides many things. My own men, perhaps. Or others, drawn by the blight’s spreading influence."

Joel’s fingers stilled on his dagger, his casual air evaporating completely. "We’re not," he said, his voice quiet but sharp.

"You can’t know that," one of Rayne’s knights muttered, his hand resting on his own weapon. He was tired, jumpy, and deeply suspicious of the Elysian guide. The tension between the two groups, of Elysian and Valendale Empire, becoming more palpable.

Joe’s mouth twisted into a razor-thin smile, devoid of humor. "I do," he replied in a low growl, implying a clear and unsettling threat.

The tension spiked instantly, hanging heavy in the air like a storm cloud.

Rayne’s knights stiffened, ready to draw their weapons at any moment. Reyes’s hand moved further down his sword hilt. Even Arden looked up from his notes, sensing the volatile shift.

Kaley closed his eyes for a moment, a barely perceptible tremor passing through him, as if he felt the rising fear of violence in the group, a ripple of unease in the spiritual calm he usually projected.

Viana rubbed her temples with a weary gesture.

"Enough."

Her voice cut through the brewing conflict like a knife, sharp and commanding. She looked directly at Rayne, her gaze piercing through his fatigue.

"Your men are welcome here, Prince, and their presence is noted. But trust goes both ways. If you’re hiding something, if this is more than just helping to find the cure for our country’s blight, say it now. We cannot afford secrets, not out here. Not when MY KINGDOM is dying."

Rayne met her gaze without flinching, his tired eyes unwavering, devoid of its playfulness. "I’ve told you everything, Princess," he said with a raw voice, stripped of all royal pretense. "Your kingdom’s blight may spread to our empire, and I don’t want to let that happen. Your people are suffering, and mine will be. I won’t let pride, or rivalries, stop me from saving it. This is our only hope."

Something in his voice, sounded desperately honest, made her believe him. She saw the genuine fear, the genuine hope, that mirrored her own. His desperation was as profound as hers.

She nodded slowly. "Then we move as one. No secret. No infighting. Not between Elysia and Valendale, not between us, the people here tonight."

She glanced around the fire, meeting each man’s gaze in turn, making sure her words were clear. "Understood?"

A chorus of reluctant agreements, muttered and firm, echoed around the fire.

Reyes gave a curt nod, Joel gave a simple, silent inclination of his head. Arden looked visibly relieved.

Kaley, after a moment of quiet contemplation, gave a small, firm nod. "Yes, Princess," he murmured, his voice soft but clear.

And Eryndor, still sitting far away from them, gave Viana a meaningful smile, the one that made her heart beat faster.

***

Later, when the fire had burned low and most of the men had retreated to their bedrolls, burrowing deep against the persistent desert chill, Viana found herself still awake, staring at the vast, star-dusted expanse above.

The sky was an inky canvas, speckled with countless pinpricks of light that seemed impossibly close, yet utterly distant.

She should sleep. Every aching muscle in her body, every tired thought, screamed for rest. Tomorrow would be brutal, a long day under a relentless sun, pushing deeper into the unknown.

But her mind wouldn’t quiet, a relentless hum of questions and worries.

’Why won’t that transparent paper answer?’

The thought was a persistent itch, a nagging unease at the back of her consciousness. It had been her revelation since she woke in this past self, a guide, a nuisance, an omnipresent reminder of something she didn’t understand what it was.

It had been her secret weapon, her unseen advantage, for her not to fall again into the Count Lazarus’s grip. But now, when she needed it most, when the stakes were higher than ever, when real lives hung in the balance, it was gone.

Was it broken? Had she done something wrong, made a choice that severed their connection? Or... was this part of the scheme of the system’s story too?

A soft rustle of fabric made her turn her head slowly. She hadn’t heard footsteps, hadn’t detected a presence, yet there he was.

Eryndor stood beside her, materializing from the deeper shadows, his long silver hair glowing faintly in the stark moonlight, like spun starlight. His silent approach was unnerving, as always.

"You’re troubled," he said, his voice a low, melodic murmur that seemed to flow with the wind rather than against it. His silver eyes, ancient and knowing, looked at her with an unnerving depth.

She sighed, a weary release of breath. "Aren’t we all?"

The question hung in the still air, a universal truth in their blighted world.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her with an unnerving intensity, his gaze seemingly piercing through her very thoughts. "You keep reaching for something that isn’t there."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words hit her with the force of a physical blow. Could he sense the system?

It was a terrifying, exhilarating thought.

She stared at him, unable to speak, a dozen questions forming on her tongue.

Before she could answer, before she could even formulate a coherent thought, heavy footsteps approached, crunching softly on the sand.

Reyes.

His presence, solid and earthly, broke the ethereal tension that Eryndor had woven.

"Princess," Reyes said, his voice low, respectful but firm, cutting through the thin night air. "We need to talk."

His eyes, usually sharp and assessing, held a hint of grim concern.

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