Chapter 67: AoE Taunt
"So... the bond was ford by a power you gained as you were dying...?"
An accidental bond, no matter how unconventional, was still an accident. And with the miraculous and impossible nature of her power to bond without a heart, who could dictate what happened in that razor-thin slice between life and death?
That accidental tether was what had pulled her back. It was the only explanation, and Eastiel, faced with the living, breathing proof before him, had no choice but to believe it. In truth, he’d stopped doubting the mont he’d felt her solid weight in his arms.
"But it offends ," Eastiel said, his voice sharpening as he turned a glowering look toward Arkai, "that you, of all people, accepted the Dragon Lord’s... insane proposal, Lord Dawnoro."
Arkai grunted, closing his eyes, physically absorbing the accusation in surrender.
"Strange," Cecilia humd, tapping her chin. "I’m more upset with Lord Oathran, personally."
Oathran’s gaze instantly drifted upward, finding the intricate patterns on the ceiling suddenly worthy of intense study.
"I understand," Eastiel said, the sharpness leaving his voice. "As long as Saintess Cecilia is... content with the arrangent, I will not speak against it." Then, his focus narrowed, laser-like, onto the woman herself. "But you..."
Cecilia instinctively shrunk back on her seat. "...what?"
"Do you love them?"
The question was the natural and inevitable escalation. For a friend who had known her for years, who had watched her enter one disastrous union, perhaps it was the only thing that truly mattered.
Cecilia, still leaning away, t his gaze with a defensive glare. "Haven’t you learned by now that asking
that question doesn’t guarantee a useful answer?"
"Because I asked you the sa thing before you married that tiger bastard?" Eastiel’s lip curled in a sneer.
Cecilia gave a slow nod.
"You were wrong once," Eastiel pressed, his voice low. "I assu you’ve learned from that mistake. Or am I wrong?"
Cecilia felt the trap of the question. It wouldn’t be wise to confess she had consciously decided to love them back, to accept being loved. Not when the foundations were so... fraught.
Oathran was a man planning his own death by her hand. Arkai’s devotion was tangled in beastly instinct and a protective guilt that edged into obsession. Neither was the stuff of a healthy, stable marriage.
In a way, it might be more dangerous than binding herself to another Arzhen. At least with a known snake, she knew where the fangs were. With Oathran and Arkai...
...they were magnificent. They were hers. But one was a walking farewell, and the other’s love was born from a scent that broke every taboo.
"Eastiel, umm..." she muttered, her voice small. "Even with the two of them here... I’m not sure I’m in what you’d call a ’safe zone’..."
"BWAHWAHHAHAHAHAHWHAHHAH!"
Oathran’s laughter exploded at the brutal honesty of it.
"Ugh..." Arkai nearly clutched his chest, a wave of hot sha flooding back. She was right. He knew she was right. In their current states, with their baggage, they were far from ideal mates.
Eastiel looked at the three of them. The laughing dragon, the mortified wolf, the anxiously honest saintess. His expression went blank. A look of pure, soul-deep surrender. He was giving up.
"It’s not too late," Eastiel stated. "Choose between the two of them. Sever one of the bonds. And pick the one who won’t abandon you the mont he decides his ’purpose’ is fulfilled."
"Hah!" Oathran let out a sharp scoff. "You dare raise your sarcastic little claws at , brat?"
"Lord Edengold," Arkai’s voice was a winter chill as he reassert the boundary. "That is not for you to say."
"His Majesty hasn’t killed
yet," Eastiel shot back, not backing down from Arkai’s glacial stare. "Which suggests he can tolerate a bit of truth."
A dangerous smile spread across Oathran’s face. He turned to Arkai. "He’s brazen. I like him."
"Eastiel," Cecilia interjected. "Lord Arkai is right. That is not for you to say. Apologize to Lord Oathran."
"I will not apologize," Eastiel said, planting his feet, his gaze locked on the dragon, "until I know the real reason he’s so eager to die."
"On this," Arkai’s head swiveled toward Oathran, his own expression sharpening with long-simring concern, "I must know as well."
Oathran’s patience visibly frayed. A low growl built in his throat. "What business is my oath with the Saintess to either of you? Back the heavens off."
Cecilia watched the three of them, teeth subtly bared, eyes glinting with cold rivalry, protective fury, and stubborn pride. The air was thick enough to choke on. She decided it was ti to throw a different kind of log on the fire.
"Sotis," she said, "I wonder why I’m still a virgin in a room with three beasts who claim they love ."
Silence.
The three beasts in question turned to her as one. The cold anger and rivalry vanished, incinerated in an instant by a new, far more primal heat. Their eyes, gold, black, and grey, burned now with a blazing challenge, a possessiveness that was pure, undiluted lust.
DING!
[Congratulations! You’ve obtained Hidden Achievent: AoE Horny Taunt!]
[t specific condition: Arouse more than 2 Love Interests into a state of heightened arousal!]
DING!
[Capturable Love Interest detected! Would you like to roll for Five-Star Love Interest, Eastiel Edengold? You have 10 free rolls!]
[Yes/No]
DING!
[You have filled your first two Love Interest slots with Oathran Alicei and Arkai Dawnoro! To add more Love Interests, you must purchase the next slot. Slot Price: 150 Love Points.]
[Please buy the next slot with 150 Love Points!]
Oh, the price of the new slot went up.
***
"Mother... are you sure this is alright?"
Harriet Edengold paused in her rhythmic stirring of a dicinal broth, the steam curling around her stern face. She didn’t look at her younger son, Elias, but her silence was heavy.
"...Listen," she said finally, her voice low. "Weigh the options. Do you prefer your brother to simply... waste away into dust and grief? Or to find a place, however unorthodox, beside the Dragon Lord and the Black Wolf King?"
Elias opened his mouth, then closed it.
"..."
"..."
The only sound was the soft clink of the ladle against the pot.
"If... if you word it like that..." Elias ventured, the resistance in his voice crumbling.
"She is the Saintess," Harriet stated, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did. "It is not so strange for a figure touched by the divine to have more than one... devoted consort."
"...Mother..." Elias’s protest was weak.
"Why?" Harriet turned to him now, her golden eyes sharp. "Lions take more than one woman often enough. Why can’t one remarkable woman have more than one man, for once in an age?"
"Father only ever had you," Elias pointed out.
"That," she said, turning back to her pot, "is because your father was a wise man who knew I’d beat his noble ass from here to the Salt Flats if he ever tried."
"..."
"..."
"...Would you beat my ass if I tried, too?" he asked.
"Oh, I will," she promised, her voice sweet and deadly. "I will, my son."
Done with the dicine, Harriet looked out of the window. "Tell everyone not to approach your brother’s palace tonight. No. Do it now. Tell them to leave now."
"..."
"..."
"...yes, Mother."
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