The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 8

“Lady Ceryes!”

The moment the shout left his throat, Quill regretted it. It was as good as announcing to everyone present that he was the Saint’s fiancé.

Sure enough, the gathered crowd began to buzz. Black hair and red eyes were an extreme rarity in the capital. If he turned toward the commotion now, a barrage of curious stares would pierce him all at once.

Ignoring the onlookers, he hurried to her side and glared into Lynette’s blue eyes.

“What on earth were you thinking, coming to a place like this?”

Lynette lightly pinched the skirt of her day dress and curtsied. Then, she fixed that social smile, the one Quill had explicitly told her he disliked onto her face. Instantly, a wave of whispers rippled through the crowd.

I see. Spend two years as a Saint, and the art of putting on a show becomes second nature.

He watched her behavior coldly.

Lynette stepped closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.

“You ended our conversation so abruptly last night. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t return home at all.”

“…I’m coming back tonight. Whatever we have to say can wait until then.”

“Truly? You were so angry last night, I thought you might not even want to see my face.”

Is having no emotions different from being unable to read them? Precisely because Lynette’s eyes held nothing, they felt bottomless. It felt as though she was peering into his very soul; Quill looked away sharply.

“I’m coming back. Last night, I struggled to find the right distance between us. I apologize for my behavior.”

As he offered his apology, Lynette replied in a surprisingly breezy tone.

“That was a lie. Please don’t think me the sort of woman who would disrupt your work for such personal matters.”

“What a lie?”

The Saint telling a lie?

Caught completely off guard, he stared at his beautiful fiancée.

Lynette raised her left hand. Apparently, she found Quill’s reaction amusing.

Realizing he had been teased, his face grew hot. This wasn’t the kind of pathetic display he wanted to make in front of spectators.

As Quill turned his face away, Lynette adjusted her parasol, shielding him from public view.

“You seem to have quite a penchant for mischief.”

“Did I? I no longer know if I ‘like’ it or not.”

For a moment, her voice seemed to sink, and Quill looked up. Perhaps because she was shielded by the parasol, Lynette had let her expression go blank.

“I heard there was to be a mock battle today. A White Knight sent word to the manor. The Count arranged a carriage, suggesting I should come and watch the spectacle.”

“And why are you in the training grounds?”

“I wanted to ask if it was acceptable for me to watch. I didn’t want to be a nuisance.”

“That’s…”

I don’t mind, but…

Before Quill could finish, a grating voice interrupted him.

“Holy Saint! So, this is where you were!”

“Ugh…”

A distinctly un-noble, guttural groan escaped Quill’s lips.

The man running toward them with a delighted expression paused briefly to bow to the crowd. Several swooning sighs rose from the onlookers.

Marius Claussen, Captain of the Second Squad of the White Knights. He was the heir to a Marquis, boasting the kind of platinum-blonde hair and sparkling forest-green eyes that defined the Eiklant ideal.

Marius ignored Quill entirely, taking Lynette’s right hand and dropping a light kiss upon it.

“I went to the gates to welcome you, but it seems we missed each other.”

“I have already completed my duty as the Saint. I cannot have you troubling yourself for me, Sir Claussen.”

“Please, do not say such lonely things. In my heart, I am still your guardian.”

He showed not a shred of restraint in front of Quill, her official fiancé. On the contrary, he kept casting pointed, challenging glances Quill’s way.

If one were to boil down “displeasure” and pour it into a mold, the result might very well be Marius. Faced with such an attitude, Quill didn’t even feel like interjecting.

Standing behind Marius was Geis, looking thoroughly entertained. It was undoubtedly Geis who had let the man into the training grounds.

Geis often described Marius as a “puppy.” No doubt he found the yapping of this noisy youth to be the height of entertainment today.

“Now, Lady Saint. Allow me to escort you to the arena for the mock battle.”

“I was just receiving permission from Lord Quill.”

“Permission? No such thing is necessary! Come.”

“That will not do. I have no desire to sour my fiancé’s mood.”

Pulling the corners of her mouth up into a beautiful curve, Lynette forced a smile.

Marius’s handsome brows twitched upward, and his voice dropped low.

“Did you truly nominate this man? Was this truly your own will, Lady Saint?”

“It was. I requested an engagement with Lord Quill Langbart, and as you can see, I received this Pledge Lock.”

When Lynette raised her left wrist, the leather cord and blue stone swayed.

The moment he saw it, Marius lunged forward and grabbed Quill by the collar.

“You insolent scoundrel… to bewitch the Saint and then bind her with such a cheap piece of junk!”

So, the cheapness really was an issue, Quill thought. After his brother, sister, and Nicola, Marius was the final nail in the coffin. Quill etched the failure into his heart, but he forcefully pried Marius’s hand off him.

“I have no memory of ‘bewitching’ anyone! In fact, I don’t even understand why I was chosen myself!”

As he stated this flatly, Marius’s mouth hung open, and he froze for a moment.

“L-Langbart! How dare you say such a thing after being chosen by the Saint, despite being nothing more than a red-eyed freak from Betzyraft!”

“Stop it!”

It was a cold, dignified voice that commanded silence throughout the grounds.

Lynette stepped up beside Quill and looked Marius straight in the eye.

“Sir Claussen. I desired this engagement. I used my title as the Saint and the backing of Crown Princess Juliana to force this matter through.”

Marius, looking momentarily stunned, widened his eyes as if finally coming to his senses.

“Lady Saint. Perhaps you are unaware, but Quill of House Langbart is not the Count’s biological son—”

“I know.”

“What?”

Lynette smoothly slid her hand onto Quill’s arm.

“I know more about Lord Quill than you do, Sir. Of that, I am certain.”

A flash of something like rage crossed Marius’s face.

“…Langbart. Go and prepare for the mock battle immediately. I must show the Saint the sight of you on one knee, so that she might finally wake up.”

Turning away irritably, Marius led the crowd toward the arena. Quill, watching the mass exodus, let his shoulders slump in exhaustion. He glanced sideways at his fiancée, who maintained a cool composure.

“What was the point of provoking him? You should have just let him say what he wanted about me.”

He didn’t know why she claimed to know him so well. But if she had entered this engagement knowing his circumstances, he wished she would just ignore the voices around them.

The second son of House Langbart was not the Count’s biological child. He was the son of an Eiklant woman the Countess had been close to; his father was unknown. When the woman passed away, he had been taken in at the Countess’s earnest request.

His father, of whom nothing was known, carried the blood of Betzyraft. Quill was, unfortunately, a half-blood who had inherited those traits vividly.

His appearance was too distinctive to hide. It had been common knowledge among the nobility for a long time.

Then, Lynette’s right hand shot up.

The hand indicated displeasure.

“He called them ‘red eyes,'” she said.

“And?”

“Your eyes are amber, Lord Quill.”

“Just how do they look to you, exactly?”

It was the same thing Crown Prince Leonard had said at the start. How could this dark crimson which looked like congealed blood ever be called amber?

“They were amber, weren’t they?”

At Lynette’s question, Quill’s body stiffened.

Why? he asked with a breathless, silent gasp. But Lynette merely kept her social mask in place and offered no answer.