Novel Full Chapter 1027: Using the Law
Chapter 1027: Using the Law
Felicity watched, wide-eyed, as the scene unfolded before her. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
Feng was the first to reach him, having long since begun moving.
For the first time since meeting the loud girl with a very rude mouth, Felicity felt something unfamiliar bloom in her chest: awe. Not fear, not envy, not resentment. Just pure, disbelieving awe.
The oriental teen moved with total fearlessness written all over her as the girl’s slim frame charged toward Quinlan’s outstretched arm with unwavering resolve. There was no hesitation in her body, no flinch in her step. Her eyes weren’t wild with panic like Felicity’s; they were clear. Focused.
She wasn’t afraid of being burned.
She wasn’t afraid at all.
Even as the heat from Quinlan’s flames increased in their intensity, crackling and writhing like serpents in the air, Feng didn’t slow her approach. Her hand reached for him.
To touch him.
To remind him.
That was all Feng could think to do.
The flames roared around his hand, wild and wrathful, searing the air itself.
And yet she dove toward them with her arms outstretched.
Straight toward him.
For the first time since she’d met her, Felicity was struck speechless by Feng when the princess realized that even now, not even a single flicker of fear crossed Feng’s face despite being a mere moment from being burned by the inferno.
And that was when it happened.
Like a storm hitting a cliff and dying there, the flames didn’t consume her.
They were quenched mid-roar.
The boiling air cooled in an instant, as though some invisible veil had dropped between her and the fire.
Quinlan hadn’t made a conscious choice. He hadn’t even looked at her yet.
But the moment his soul sensed her presence, it recoiled from the very possibility of hurting her.
Even submerged in fury, with fire running wild through his veins and hatred pounding in his skull, some part of him still recognized Feng.
Still protected her.
Despite being stopped, Quinlan hadn’t yet spoken.
He just stood there with his breath coming in ragged gasps and eyes wide in dawning realization.
Feng’s palms closed around his clenched fist.
“Don’t ruin your life for this…” she whispered, breathless.
And then he felt them.
Ayame. Lucille. Iris. The others.
Their presence acted around him as if they were emotional anchors.
And slowly… reluctantly… he let go.
The noble crumpled to the ground like a discarded doll, wheezing in shallow gulps. His fine robes were soaked with sweat, blood, and piss, and his face was drained of all color.
Seraphiel moved in quietly.
Her cheek was bruised, red, and swollen from where the noble had struck her. Yet she didn’t cast a healing spell nor pour a healing potion on it. In fact, she wasn’t even caressing it.
Her blond hair clung to her face from the sweat and heat of the moment that came from the love of her life nearly committing a capital crime in front of the king and all his enforcers. She understood very well that the king was amicable toward them, but she did not doubt for a single moment he’d mete out justice on Quinlan if he killed a noble who, by law, did no wrong.
Such was Seraphiel’s worry that the elven woman didn’t care about the fact that she got slapped, despite it being something that would normally earn her ire. But now, she was just glad to see that Quinlan was stopped before the noble died. Her fingers fell to Quinlan’s arm, stroking it calmly.
“If you kill this scumbag, it’ll be the end.”
Her touch was cool, grounding.
Her blue eyes, full of emotion, met his.
The man she loved stood with his fists still clenched, fire burned into the memory of the moment, but Seraphiel could feel it now: his heart slowing in its immense beating and his soul recoiling from the edge.
“This,” she breathed, “is not worth it.”
Her hand slid down his wrist to interlace gently with his fingers.
“He’s not worth it.”
There was silence.
Heavy.
Tense.
The nobles who had provoked him dared not speak now, nor move. Their legs were too weak. The one who’d been in his grasp lay panting on the floor, too afraid to even groan.
Felicity’s little feet stomped once on the marble floor, and her shrill voice rang out toward the three count sons.
“How dare you do this?!”
Heads turned. Even the still-recovering noble on the ground flinched.
Her fists trembled at her sides, and her amber eyes gleamed. Not with childish frustration, one might expect seeing her youthful visage, but with royal fury.
“The announcer made it very clear when we entered! They were invited here by me! All of them! Slaves included!” she shouted.
Gasps echoed across the hall.
Chairs scraped. Goblets tilted. Utensils clattered to the floor.
Shock rippled through the gathered nobles like a tidal wave.
‘The royal princess… brought slaves into the palace?’
Despite knowing the king’s long-standing policy? Despite knowing that King Alexios himself tolerated no such presence at royal functions?
Eyes darted toward the throne, but the king didn’t rise. He didn’t even move. His expression remained unreadable.
The three nobles—the Vexmore sons—quivered. One of them clutched his wrist, the other stared down at the floor like a whipped dog.
Then, behind them, a new presence moved.
Count Hadrien Vexmore, patriarch of the house, stepped forward. He was a gaunt man with sharp cheekbones and silvered hair, once proud and domineering. But now? Now, his steps were halting. His eyes averted. His spine not quite as straight.
Beside him, Lady Vexmore clutched her pearls with shaking fingers. Her lips were tight, but her fear showed through the cracks in her perfect composure.
They bowed. Not too low, but low enough to show the court they understood the danger.
“Your Highness,” the Count began, “I assure you, there has been a misunderstanding…”
“There’s no misunderstanding!” Felicity cut in coldly.
She smiled. It was a dangerous smile that promised no peace and prosperity.
“I’ve read the Kingdom’s laws.”
Felicity lifted her chin. “House Vexmore used the law to hurt three slaves and get away with it.”
Her dress fluttered as she walked with all the dignity of her royal blood straight towards the count.
“You attacked slaves under the protection of Lord Black, which means he was wronged by another noble.”
It was Felicity’s eldest sister who walked down from the raised dais and approached the young princess standing at the center of attention. Calienne had a sadistic sparkle appear in her eyes, ruining her otherwise pristine poker face.
“Under Section Three, Subsection Nineteen of the Reformed Noble Conduct Decree, should a noble be wronged by another within the bounds of royal hospitality, he may invoke his right to address and correct that wrong—”
Her smile deepened. But it was the Third Princess who finished Calienne’s statement.
“—so long as the wrongdoing is witnessed and acknowledged by a royal family member.”