"We did it all night. You remember?"
Killian's voice was flat. Too flat for a question that heavy.
Josselyn, seated on her horse, instinctively tightened her grip on the reins. Her jaw clenched.
She bit her lip.
"Josselyn."
The tone dropped lower. Pressing.
Josselyn drew in a slow breath, then let it out just as carefully.
"I remember, Your Highness." Her answer was short. Too quick. Too neat.
Killian tilted his head slightly, watching her from the side.
"Do you?"
Josselyn ground her teeth faintly.
Why is he acting like a child demanding attention?
She glanced at him briefly, then looked straight ahead again.
"Would you like me to repeat it step by step, Your Highness?" Her gaze swept over Darius, Howarth, Sebastian, Kael, and several soldiers. "So they can hear it too."
Josselyn held her breath, silently praying,
Say no and end this. Otherwise I'll have to lie even more.
Killian fell silent. The corner of his lips twitched slightly. His eyes narrowed as if weighing something.
"No need."
The air around them turned awkward.
Josselyn bit the inside of her cheek. She was irritated. The question, the tone, the way he looked at her, all of it felt like he was trying to dig into something she herself desperately wanted to understand, yet couldn't.
No matter how many times she tried, the memory would only return when the effect came again.
And if I want to know what happened last night, then I have to do it with him again.
Her chest tightened.
This is an endless loop.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
Behind them, the rhythm of hooves remained steady.
Darius.
Josselyn could feel his gaze. A few times. Quick. Subtle.
Whenever she turned, he would look away, as if caught.
On the other side, Howarth made no effort to hide it. His stare was blatant. Cold. Assessing.
If you keep staring like that, your eyes might fall out, Josselyn muttered inwardly without turning.
Howarth caught the unspoken message and chuckled softly. He guided his horse closer to hers.
"If you didn't make such a commotion all night, I wouldn't need to stare like this," he murmured.
Josselyn let out a long breath. "Quiet."
"Howarth."
Killian's voice cut in. One word, low, but enough to stop Howarth's laughter.
The silver-haired man lifted both hands slightly, feigning surrender.
"Of course, Your Highness. I'm just observing."
"Stop."
"Of course."
But his gaze did not truly stop.
~
As they entered the village, the residents were busy with their routines. Some were trading, some chatting, but there were very few children running around.
Probably because of the illness affecting them. The parents must be keeping them inside, Josselyn thought.
But the moment someone noticed their arrival, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations died. Silence spread.
What Josselyn noticed most were the stares and the whispers. Quiet, but many.
"That's him…"
"The Crown Prince…?"
"Why is he here…?"
Josselyn felt it like a cold wave brushing against her skin.
Her gaze moved forward. The village hall came into view. People were gathered there, and all eyes began to turn toward them.
"We've drawn attention," Josselyn murmured.
Killian did not respond. His gaze remained steady.
As they came to a stop, an older man stepped forward at once. Village Chief Halvern.
He bowed deeply.
"Your Highness… forgive us. We did not expect your arrival this morning."
Killian dismounted calmly.
"What difference does morning or night make?"
Chief Halvern forced a stiff smile.
"Ah, it's not that. It's just that we… only prepared a simple reception for tonight. A more proper welcome…"
"Unnecessary," Killian cut in. "I'm not here to eat."
"Of course not."
The voice came from the crowd. A young man stepped forward, his gaze sharp, his jaw tight.
"We have no intention of offering our harvest to someone who once destroyed this village."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The chief, already flustered by Killian's sudden arrival, grew even more tense.
Josselyn and Howarth exchanged a brief glance. This was exactly what they had feared.
The chief quickly turned toward the speaker.
"Silence! Do you realize you are speaking to—"
"Why should I be silent?" the young man cut in. "Should we pretend nothing ever happened?"
Josselyn lifted her chin slightly, studying him.
"Rivan," she murmured. She remembered him. When she first arrived in Frostmere, he had been among those protesting with Garrick.
They had met again at Garrick's house while treating Lyria. She had thought that after seeing Lyria healed, Rivan might soften. But it seemed his wounds ran deeper than she had expected.
Josselyn scanned the crowd. The whispers grew louder now, laced with bitterness.
"That's true…"
"We lost so much…"
"The children…"
Josselyn took a quiet breath. Her mind moved quickly.
I have to do something.
Her eyes searched, scanning for something, or someone. And soon, she found her.
"Lyria."
The little girl stood among the crowd, her hand held by her father. Her eyes were fixed on Josselyn.
Josselyn dismounted at once.
"Josselyn…" Killian's voice followed, but she had already stepped forward.
She crouched down, opening her arms slightly.
"Lyria," Josselyn called softly, offering a warm smile.
The girl hesitated for a moment. Then she let go of her father's hand and ran toward her, throwing her arms around Josselyn.
"I've been waiting for you to come to my house again," Lyria said in a sweet voice.
All eyes turned to them.
Josselyn smiled faintly, returning the embrace.
"Are you alright?" she whispered.
Lyria nodded eagerly.
"Better."
That small voice was enough for those nearby to hear.
Josselyn's gaze swept across the crowd, reading their expressions. Then she spotted Garrick, Lyria's father, stepping forward, his voice firmer than before.
"That's enough."
Everyone turned.
"My daughter… and several other children… have been healed by her."
He pointed at Josselyn.
"Shouldn't we be thanking her?"
Some fell silent. But not all.
"Thank her?" someone scoffed. "That's the palace's duty."
"That's right. They destroyed, so they should fix it."
"It's not kindness. It's obligation after tearing this village apart."
The voices began to pile up.
Josselyn slowly stood, still holding Lyria's hand.
"And today," Garrick continued, "she will see the remaining seven children."
Silence followed briefly. But the tension did not disappear. Josselyn could feel it. Something was still unresolved.
Then she saw it.
Rivan's hand moved, reaching down.
A stone.
"What is he—"
Josselyn's eyes followed the trajectory. The target was clear. Killian.
There was no time to think. She stepped forward.
Deliberately.
The stone flew from Rivan's hand. Too fast to dodge.
"Stop—"
The impact struck her back with a dull, heavy force. Her breath was knocked out instantly.
"Hh…"
The sound barely escaped her lips. Her body froze for a fraction of a second before the pain burst through, hot and sharp, like something cracking beneath her skin, spreading into her chest.
The sounds around her faded, as if pulled away from her ears.
Then she fell. But she never hit the ground. Killian's arms caught her first.
"Josselyn!"
Killian's voice changed. His grip tightened around her. His gaze dropped to her back, to the blood beginning to seep through.
Silence.
Through her ragged breathing and fading awareness, Josselyn caught glimpses of the villagers stepping back instinctively. A mother pulling her child away. Soldiers behind Killian reaching for their swords.
Then slowly, Killian lifted his gaze.
Straight at Rivan.
"Who threw it?"