Looking for a Husband to Confine Me - Chapter 39.1
Chapter 39.1
Kelliard Hazel, momentarily stunned by Pazl, raked his nails across the thick hand constricting his throat. “Ugh! Hk!” He writhed, the pressure increasing, the pain intensifying.
“Stop!” Bashar finally roared at Pazl. “That knight has nothing to do with us. Let him go.”
“I don’t enjoy needless killing. However, given the prince is hiding, I have no choice.”
“Pazl.”
“How long do you intend to stay there? Come out now.” He deliberately shook Kelliatd, showcasing his grip on his throat to Bashar, a clear threat to break it if his demands weren’t met.
Kelliard, trapped in Pazl’s grasp, was nothing more than a hostage. I knew this might happen… I gnawed my lip, watching Kelliard struggle to breathe, dangling precariously in the air. Kelliard, confident in his knightly abilities, likely believed he could easily overpower Pazl. But he’d overlooked a crucial detail: Pazl served Haroon, and Haroon was a prince of the Kishan Kingdom. Just as in the Lefkind Empire, those attending royalty in Kishan possessed considerable martial skill.
Given their vulnerability to assassination attempts from rival factions, they underwent rigorous training to protect their masters. Pazl was undoubtedly Kelliard’s equal, if not his superior. I was uneasy, but I hadn’t expected Kelliard to be subdued so easily. I thought he could at least protect himself. Escaping alone would have been more helpful than becoming a hostage.
Still, I can’t let him die. If I were going to abandon him, I would have done so earlier when the monstrous beasts were chasing us. Pazl’s reaction, at least, suggested he wouldn’t kill Kelliard readily. Not that he’d spare him either.
Bashar and Pazl stared at each other, a silent, charged exchange. “Damian,” I murmured. Damian turned slightly, his gaze meeting mine. Pazl remained focused solely on Bashar. But that didn’t mean Damian or I could move freely.
“Amelia?”
“Don’t look at me. Just listen.”
“Not looking at you when you’re right here? That’s a cruel request.”
“Don’t joke around,” I said, gritting my teeth. Damian turned away, his gaze fixed on Pazl, but his ears attuned to my voice.
“The greatest danger here is the summoning of those beasts. We have to stop Pazl from doing that.”
“Should I sever his wrists? Oh, and his tongue, since he shouldn’t be speaking either?”
“I wish it were that simple. Is it even possible?”
“Of course,” Damian replied without hesitation. Is it really possible? I knew he was a skilled mercenary, but even in this situation…?
“If we’re willing to sacrifice the knight’s life, yes.”
“….”
“I’m sure the knight would consider it an honor to die for the prince.”
“…Unfortunately, that particular knight happens to be my brother.” His death would be problematic.
“Hmm, are you close?”
“Not really.”
“Then you wouldn’t miss him, would you?” His tone made it sound like we were discussing the necessity of a household object.
“His death would be inconvenient for me.” More accurately, my family would hound me relentlessly. I was about to leave the family, but I preferred to avoid further trouble.
“There’s another way to prevent Pazl from summoning the beasts. It requires time, though…”
Explaining everything was impossible in our current predicament. Stopping Pazl required a specific item, and locating it would take time. We needed to keep him from doing anything rash until then.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do as you wish.” Something brushed against the back of my hand. I looked down to see Damian’s fingertips. While watching Pazl, he’d pinpoint the location of my hand. His elegant touch seemed to reassure me. As he withdrew, Pazl, who had been locked in a staring contest with Bashar, finally spoke. “How long do you intend to stay there? Come out now.”
“You have quite the nerve, coming here to kill another kingdom’s prince.” Pazl, who had been tightening his hold on Kelliard, using him as leverage against Bashar, frowned at the sound of another voice. He looked toward the man leaning casually against the doorway, Damian Detronil.
“You’re…” Pazl’s eyebrows twitched, searching his memory.
“Ah…” he finally uttered, recognition dawning.
“You’re the one from the banquet hall.”
Pazl gritted his teeth, as if trying to grind them to dust, the memory of his failed attempt to poison Bashar clearly resurfacing.
