Chapter 132: A Glimpse of His True Self

Chapter 132: Chapter 132: A Glimpse of His True Self

In the past, she had loved riding.

She was constantly pulling on the reins, and the repeated friction had often left her palms chafed and raw. That was how those calluses had formed.

After injuring her knee, Elysia had avoided the riding grounds for a long time. Without the constant strain, the calluses had gradually faded, leaving behind only the faintest trace.

Cassiel’s gaze lingered on her hands.

His expression gradually turned solemn.

He reached out and took one of her hands into his.

Elysia blinked.

"My lord?"

His thumb brushed lightly over her palm.

The faint calluses were barely visible.

Yet to him, those faint calluses were a reminder of the lively girl she had once been—the girl who had ridden horses with such carefree abandon.

Back then, there had been a brightness in her spirit, a freedom in the way she moved through the world. She had laughed easily, expressed herself without restraint, and seemed utterly unafraid of getting her hands dirty or her clothes stained.

Those faint marks on her palms were the last remnants of that young girl.

"You don’t need to do everything yourself anymore."

Elysia’s heart trembled.

For a moment, she could not speak.

Cassiel gradually released her hand.

"Let me do it."

Elysia looked at the small pile of peeled lily seeds, then at him.

A smile finally spread across her face.

"All right."

She leaned slightly closer.

"Then I’ll leave them all to you."

Cassiel nodded.

"Good."

"Did you get a proper look at the water lilies earlier?" Cassiel asked casually as he peeled another seed and ate it himself, smoothly changing the subject.

Elysia curled her fingers slightly.

"I did."

"Pretty?"

"Hmm..."

Distracted by her thoughts, she answered absent-mindedly.

"They were quite pretty."

Cassiel, however, took her words to heart.

She said they were pretty.

We’ll have a pond built at Draevenor Manor.

Completely unaware of what was going through his mind, Elysia looked down at her palm.

A sudden flash of inspiration struck her.

She knew what she wanted to write for her second tale now.

But the pen name Alhena could no longer be used.

What new name should she choose?

---

By the time Cassiel and Elysia were ready to depart, the Duke of Merlinspire himself had come to see them off.

His servants presented an array of rare and valuable treasures.

"These humble gifts are for Your Grace," the Duke said with an ingratiating smile.

Cassiel glanced over the offerings dismissively.

"Few of these are truly valuable."

He turned towards Elysia.

"Is there anything you like?"

Elysia was hopeless at judging the worth of such things, so she shook her head shyly.

"No..."

Cassiel nodded towards the Duke.

"Keep your treasures. Send some freshly picked lily pods instead. My wife enjoys them."

The Duke readily agreed and immediately ordered his servants to harvest them.

The lily pods would be delivered to Draevenor Manor later.

Cassiel and Elysia departed first.

As soon as they climbed into the carriage and settled beside one another, a wild image suddenly flashed through Elysia’s mind.

She was sitting on his lap, kissing him.

Her face instantly grew hot, the warmth spreading in waves across her cheeks.

"Too warm?"

Cassiel’s unhurried voice brought her back to herself.

Elysia blinked and looked at him.

Cassiel’s thumb brushed lightly against her cheek.

"You’re flushed."

Mortified, Elysia hurriedly replied, "It is a bit warm."

Cassiel gave her a deep look.

"I thought you wanted something else."

Elysia’s heart jumped.

"I wasn’t..."

"Weren’t you?"

He arched a brow and leaned slightly closer.

His breath brushing against her lips.

Then, without warning, his gaze turned icy.

His brow furrowed.

Elysia immediately sensed the change.

"What—"

Before she could finish, Cassiel pulled her firmly into his arms.

At the same moment, the horses outside whinnied in fright, and the carriage lurched violently.

Cushioned against Cassiel, Elysia was unharmed. Only her hair ornament had been knocked slightly askew.

Her face paled as she gripped his arm.

"Is it...?"

An assassination.

The words had barely formed in her mind when the clang of steel meeting steel rang out from beneath and around the carriage.

"Yes," Cassiel answered her unspoken question.

He reached up and straightened her hair ornament.

"Don’t stress."

His voice remained calm and steady.

"Just riffraff."

The composure in his voice gave her an unexpected sense of security.

Elysia slowly exhaled, her fingers gradually loosening around his arm.

Then came the whistle of a blade slicing through the air.

And in the next second, the carriage door was hacked open.

A black-clad assassin stood before them.

"Be careful!"

Elysia acted without thinking, throwing herself in front of Cassiel.

The assassin sneered as his blade swung down.

Terror was inevitable.

Elysia’s fingers trembled, yet she did not flinch.

She could feel the deadly blade drawing closer, the foul wind stirred by its movement striking her face.

In fear, she squeezed her eyes shut.

But the expected pain never came.

Instead, a sharp clang rang through her ears.

Elysia slowly opened her eyes.

And froze.

Cassiel’s back stood before her.

Tall.

Upright.

He was holding a sword in one hand, having parried the assassin’s deadly strike.

Elysia’s pupils dilated.

Her gaze moved from Cassiel to the wheelchair behind him.

Then from the wheelchair back to Cassiel.

He...

He...

He was standing?!

The assassin was equally stunned. Shock and disbelief flashed across his face as he stared at the man before him.

Cassiel said nothing.

With a simple flick of his wrist, he deflected the assassin’s blade.

Then, with blinding speed, he closed the distance between them.

A flash of steel.

The assassin’s throat was slit.

"Your Grace!"

The other guards, seeing Cassiel standing on his feet, stared at him with eyes alight as though they were beholding a beacon of hope.

Cassiel’s expression remained cold.

"Finish this. Swiftly."

"Yes, Your Grace!"

The guards’ response erupted like a thunderous roar.

Cassiel stood there, composed and utterly unshaken, the tip of his sword resting against the ground as his robes stirred slightly in the breeze.

And in that moment, Elysia finally understood.

This was the true Cassiel.

The Cassiel she had seen before had either been unconscious or confined to a wheelchair, his pale complexion and fragile appearance making him seem almost vulnerable.

But the real Cassiel was nothing like that.

He was a man of the highest nobility, wielding immense power and possessing breathtakingly handsome features.

He was also a peerless warrior—a man whose strength alone could rival an army.

Infuriatingly, he seemed almost without flaw.

Elysia had heard countless discussions about Cassiel.

People often wondered aloud what kind of woman could possibly be worthy of him.

The conclusion was always the same.

None.

Unless Cassiel himself favoured her, any woman who married him was reaching far beyond her station.

And Elysia...

She was also reaching beyond her station.

A hollow, empty feeling suddenly settled in her heart.

"Your Grace, all clear!"