Looking for a Husband to Confine Me - Chapter 40.2
Chapter 40.2
“Ugh, guh….”
Frustrated by Damian’s refusal to disarm, Pazl tightened his grip on Kelliard’s throat. I clicked my tongue and quickly scanned the wreckage.
“Damian, drop your weapon. Didn’t you say you’d listen to me?”
Bashar, finally losing his patience, spoke through gritted teeth.
“Tch, how troublesome.”
Damian clicked his tongue and casually tossed his sword to the floor. He didn’t forget to glance at me, standing behind them.
“Throw the weapon further. Out of reach.”
Pazl, a smug look on his face, took a step towards Damian. At his commanding tone, Damian simply stared back, impassive.
“Are you planning to defy me?”
“Ugh! Urk!”
Watching Pazl deliberately choke Kelliard, Damian smirked. Then, he kicked the sword across the floor with his foot. It landed with a dull thud some distance away.
By now, I felt a flicker of sympathy for Kelliard. Since being captured by Pazl, he’d been dangling like a puppet, his throat constricted.
Of course, sympathy aside, he was a nuisance. Not only was he a hostage, causing trouble, but he’d also provided Pazl with a weapon.
“Your Highness is too soft-hearted. You must have deliberately acted cold to conceal it.”
Pazl held a sword in his other hand. It was Kelliard’s, bearing the Crow Knights’ insignia. He advanced towards Damian, step by step.
“Stop! Pazl, stop!”
“Do you really think I’ll obey your commands now? Great causes require sacrifice. Just as you must sacrifice this incompetent knight’s life to save your own.”
Bashar couldn’t bring himself to abandon Kellyard Hazel. Pazl chuckled, pointing out that this compassion would lead to the deaths of not only Kellyard but also Damian, and ultimately, Bashar himself.
He reached Damian and pressed the sword against his throat. A bead of blood welled up beneath Damian’s jaw.
“Greedy, aren’t you, trying to hold two lives in your hands?”
Damian spoke calmly, showing no fear.
He mocked Pazl, who held Kelliard’s throat in one hand and a weapon in the other.
“One shouldn’t be picky about the means to achieve one’s goals. If you hadn’t caused a scene at the banquet, you wouldn’t be dying. Blame yourself.”
“Oh dear, am I going to die first?”
“Damian Detronil, I know you’re a mercenary hired by the Empire’s Crown Prince. You seem like more of a threat than this incompetent knight.”
The tip of the sword, pressed against Damian’s throat, moved slowly. A thin red line traced the path of the blade across his skin.
“You don’t really think I’ll die without a fight, do you?”
“You plan to resist without a weapon? My sword will pierce your heart before you can even try.”
The sword moved from his throat to his chest, aiming directly at his heart. Looking at Damian’s still-calm face, Pazl grinned, as if struck by a brilliant idea.
“Kneel before me and beg for your life. Then, I might just spare you.”
“Surprisingly lenient of you.” Pazl shifted the sword in his grip, its point moving from Damian’s heart to his shoulder. With a forceful thrust, he pierced Damian’s skin.
“Though you’ll lose your limbs.” Sparing Damian’s life was conditional; he would be left limbless, prey for the beasts that roamed the wilds. The sword dug deeper into Damian’s shoulder, yet he remained stoic, not a single groan escaping his lips. The wound began to bleed, staining his clothes crimson.
I gnawed my lip, anxious. The escalating conversation filled me with a growing unease. As I nudged the debris of a broken chair with my shoe, something round and hard struck the toe. It was an ornamental dagger, its violet-hued gem glinting. The blade was dull, useless as a weapon. I looked up sharply at Damian. A pool of blood was forming beneath his feet. Though the sword hadn’t fully passed through him, the wound was undoubtedly deep.
“Now, kneel.”
“I’m afraid…” Damian’s voice, languid and slow as ever, broke the silence. “The only time I kneel is to propose.” He shook his head, as if dismissing the idea of proposing to Pazl. The unexpected response stunned both me and Pazl, who stared at Damian in disbelief. For a moment, a flicker of confusion crossed Pazl’s face, as if he questioned what he’d just heard. Then, his expression hardened into fury. He clearly took Damian’s words as mockery. He’s saying things like that at a time like this… I knew instantly that Damian was sincere. Even bleeding and impaled, he remained unchanged.
Pazl’s eyes flashed. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll dismember you even after you’re dead. If you want to blame someone, blame your own tongue and Bashar Kisha!”
“Pazl, stop! Don’t!” Pazl tightened his grip on the sword, ready to drive it through Damian’s back. It seemed inevitable that the blade would pierce all the way through.
Then, Pazl’s gaze shifted past Damian, meeting mine. He frowned, noticing the ornamental dagger in my hand.
“Damian!” I cried, throwing the dagger. Pazl cursed and swung his sword, intending to use the existing wound to cleave through Damian’s body.
“So, if I were to kneel,” Damian’s voice, laced with amusement, echoed, “it wouldn’t be to you, but to fate itself.”
Torryy
The prince is so useless. The FL is so slow. Demian got injured because of these two. He let go of his sword for the prince and got hurt to buy time for the FL. This is BS.