Angelica nodded.
"Also, I must go out tomorrow and will return in the evening."
A flash of reluctance shone in the maid’s eyes.
But she obediently knew that her master had important matters to attend to and wouldn’t beco a stumbling block. Still, not being able to be with her master ultimately made Angelica feel sowhat lonely.
"So, can you co to my room tonight?"
Angelica’s eyes brightened.
anwhile, Catherine’s eyes betrayed a hint of jealousy.
...
On the other hand, within the Prince’s palace, a figure paced back and forth, his face clearly showing anxiety.
"Why is there still no news? They should have returned by now," the man muttered continuously.
Having arranged for thirteen assassins to kill the Hero, and yet not receiving any news to this mont, the man grew increasingly agitated.
After all, that was the Hero—if the assassination attempt was exposed, he was certain to end up on the guillotine.
Not one of those thirteen assassins could be left alive; they all had to be executed upon their return.
As for the Prince whom Wozworth casually dismissed as considering his word as nothing but hot air, he showed no signs of restlessness, sitting quietly on a soft sofa, even holding a newspaper. The paper described an affair involving Earl Rupert’s wife caught in the act with her lover, a story that seed to tickle Lance’s funny bone and brought an elegant smile to his face.
Watching the figure pacing tirelessly in front of him, Lance appeared sowhat impatient. He put down the newspaper, and ever since his previous humiliation, everyone thought Lance would surely lash out...
But in fact, Lance was calr than anyone expected.
Though indeed he did smash a few things, Lord Lance quickly regained control of his emotions. His deanor even more dignified and noble than before.
His aura beca more graceful and charming.
"My dear Sir Lindberg, could you please sit down and rest for a while? Watching you walk back and forth before makes my own legs feel exceedingly weary," Lance said sowhat helplessly, spreading his hands.
The man nad Lindberg, seeing Lance so relaxed, felt sowhat speechless, "Your Highness, those people have yet to return. Shouldn’t we..."
"Could it be that they’ve been killed by the Hero? Could the Hero know that I am the mastermind behind this?"
"Please, we’re all adults here, let’s be mature about it," Lance massaged his forehead gently.
"Even if the Hero knew, what of it?"
"The Hero does not yet possess the courage to openly confront my father, so why worry?"
Pausing for a mont, Lance continued, "I wasn’t too keen on the assassination plan to begin with. In fact, it’s better for him to be alive, so I can break his neck with my own hands..."
Only when speaking of the Hero did Lance’s pupils dilate with an uncontrollable venom.
"Right now, the most troubleso thing for isn’t Qin Chu, that Hero, but my fiancée, do you understand?"
Lance’s gaze fixed on the wall beside him where a portrait hung.
Portrayed was a distinguished and elegant lady with ice-blue hair gracefully cascading down her back, and ice-cold eyes that conveyed tranquility and tenderness.
Yet, on the portrait, a dart was pinned.
Lindberg slightly furrowed his brow: "The Princess of the Ice Duchy, Antasia!"
"Correct, that woman. She’s about to arrive at the Imperial City. If there are no unexpected events, she’ll pass through Conrad in the morning and arrive in the Imperial City by afternoon."
"I loathe this woman, just as much as I loathe my mother!"
"My dear Sir Lindberg, you do understand what I an, don’t you?"
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