Married To The Enemy Kingdom's Illegitimate Prince Chapter 118 — Under Attack!?

"YOUR HIGHNESS! WE HAVE BEEN ATTACKED!"

Hearing the scream, Cynthia jolted awake. Her hand darted under her pillow, pulling out the sword she had been keeping hidden. She had carefully concealed it in her bag, out of sight, for monts like these when danger might strike. And tonight, it seed, was that night.

Rushing outside, she was t with a scene of chaos: knights clashing swords against one another. The sight left her montarily stunned.

What’s going on?

She thought, her mind racing.

Then, a chilling idea struck her.

Could they have been possessed by demons?

Without hesitation, Cynthia charged toward the fighting n, her sword flashing as she struck with force and precision.

But things didn’t go as planned. A sharp clink echoed in the air as her sword was blocked. The sudden resistance sent a jolt up her arm, making her realize that her opponent had stopped her attack.

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she pulled back her weapon, readying herself for another strike.

"You should calm down now," a familiar voice spoke softly.

"B-Brother?" Cynthia stamred, her voice trembling with disbelief.

As if summoned by her shock, the young man raised a hand, igniting a small fla in his palm. The flickering light pierced through the night, revealing his face clearly to her astonished eyes.

"What are you doing here?!" Cynthia exclaid, her voice lingering with a mixture of joy and surprise.

Vincent smiled softly.

"I was sent–"

"Your Highness?" Lucian’s voice ca from behind, interrupting Vincent.

Cynthia turned to face him, the confusion on his face unmistakable.

"Uhm... I had no idea about my brother—" she began, her words faltering as fear crept in.

What if he thinks I was planning to attack his n? What if all the progress I have made so far is ruined?

"Let’s talk inside the tent, Your Highness. It is chilly outside. You have stepped outside in your nightgown as well," Lucian remarked, his gaze tracing the thin white clothes she wore.

Letting out a loud gasp, Cynthia curled down. She did not an to co out in this state. What if he now saw her as a shaless woman who did not mind showing so much skin to other n?

Anxiously, she began biting her nails, thinking about all the possibilities Lucian could assu about her.

Feeling a warm cloth wrapping her body, Cynthia’s hand slipped down. Lucian had taken off his jacket and put it around her, confusing her. As if that was not enough, he picked her up in his arms before everyone, without a care of his subordinates’ opinions.

"Let’s go inside and talk," he whispered in her ear. Then, he turned to face Glain. "Glain, prepare a tent for His Highness."

"We have brought our own materials. Just let us know where would be a good place to camp," Vincent stated.

Lucian gave a nod, his gaze then shifting to Glain who bowed to him, understanding his task. Then, the grand duke walked to the grand duchess’ tent and placed her on the chair, before the fire.

"Your Highness, I have no idea what my brother is doing here. I an, I have sent a letter to His Majesty, King Alistair, to not misunderstand you coming here with your knights as your sole purpose is to exterminate the demons around here. And–"

Lucian pressed his index on her lips, kneeling down as he locked his gaze with her, halting her from further explanation.

"You do not need to explain yourself. You looked as surprised as I was. I’ve noticed it. So, do not worry," he spoke gently, feeling her warm breath against his finger, which had turned icy from the chill outside.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, trying to understand his absurd kind words.

Why was he telling her not to worry? And why was he being so unexpectedly gentle? Did he not hate her brothers?

Unable to comprehend him, she pushes away his finger from her lips.

"What is wrong with you, Your Highness? You have been acting strange..."

"Strange? How so?" Lucian demanded, his gaze filled with confusion.

"Do not tell you actually do not know. You have been... so," she paused. Should she even tell him about it? Perhaps he was not even conscious of his demanor.

If I were to tell him about it, would he turn back to his usual self? I should wait longer until I know for sure he will not change his behavior. After all, he changes faster than the seasons do.

"It is nothing. I was rely... ashad," she lied. "How could I go outside in my nightgown?" She snorted.

"It is alright. You must have been surprised when you heard my n screaming for help. I should discipline them to make fewer sounds when you are asleep," Lucian rose abruptly, his soft gaze shifting a sharper one.

"A-Alright?" Cynthia slightly tilted her head to the side, wondering what caused the sudden shifting in him. "If you say so," she forced a smile, looking up at him. "Oh, and... Could you call my brother? I need to speak with him."

"Of course," Lucian smiled, stepping out of the tent.

A few minutes later, Vincent entered the tent, his face shadowed with a mixture of concern and irritation.

"Brother... take a seat," Cynthia extended her hand toward the chair in front of her, her tone even yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency.

Vincent hesitated for a mont, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. Then, with a sigh, he crossed the space and sat down, leaning back slightly but keeping his posture rigid, ready for confrontation.

"I take it this is about the letter you sent," he began, voice low.

"It is." Cynthia folded her hands on the table, her calm composure betrayed only by the way her fingers lightly tapped against each other. "I’ve sent two. Which one reached you?"

"The one sent to the king’s palace," Vincent replied, his lips pressing into a thin line. "But not because it was given to him. I happened to be in the room when it arrived, and the courier seed... hesitant."

Cynthia’s brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing.

"Hesitant?"

"He looked as though he wasn’t sure if he should deliver it at all," Vincent said sharply. "It made curious. I pressed him, and he handed it over after so resistance."

A flicker of frustration passed over Cynthia’s face.

"I see. And His Majesty?"

"He never saw it. If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have known anything about it."

Cynthia exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening together.

"Duke Ramsel," she muttered.

"You think he intercepted it?" Vincent’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing with doubt.

"I’m certain of it," Cynthia said, her voice firm with certainty. "The second letter, sent to the castle’s letter manager, was for safekeeping. I wanted confirmation that His Majesty’s orders hadn’t been twisted or ignored. Yet sohow, the first letter never made it to him. Duke Ramsel’s hand is all over this."

Vincent leaned forward, his voice dropping. "There’s more, isn’t there?"

Cynthia’s eyes flicked to the side as if weighing how much to say, then settled back on him.

"Rumors are spreading. Dangerous ones. They claim the grand duke plans to take Eldoria for himself, without the king’s sanction."

Cynthia stiffened, her hands curling into fists.

"Who started these rumors?" She demanded, her voice sharp similar to the edge of a sword.

"I do not know yet," Vincent admitted, his voice tight. "But if His Majesty heard them without receiving your letter first, he might see no choice but to act against the grand duke. This is exactly what Ramsel would want—a division between us and chaos for Eldoria."

Cynthia let out a deep breath, her frustration was evident.

"If that’s true, then we do not have much ti. His Majesty can’t afford to hesitate when questioned by the nobles. We must take action before anything goes wrong. I need you to ensure that His Majesty receives my ssage. This ti, no interdiaries. Deliver it yourself, if necessary."

"And what about the rumors?" Vincent asked.

Her lips curved into a grim smile. "I’ll deal with those. If Ramsel wants to play gas, he’ll learn that I’ve grown far too sharp for his tricks."

Vincent studied her for a long mont, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. But be careful, Cynthia. You’re surrounded by wolves."

She t his gaze, her voice steady.

"So am I, brother. Do I not belong to that family?"

"Yes. And we, your brothers, do not belong to that household. However, we are no less than Duke Ramsel. He has aged, and we have all the strength needed to protect you from any harm. After all, Mother took a promise from ."

Hearing about a promise, Cynthia tilted her head to the side curiously.

"A promise? You have never told about anything as such, brother."

"Well," Vincent sighed, his voice faltering as if he had said sothing he should not have. His gaze wandered around, avoiding his sister’s gaze, trying to escape her interrogation.

"Please tell ," Cynthia clasped his hand into hers, looking at him eagerly.