Married To The Enemy Kingdom's Illegitimate Prince-Chapter 135 — The Battle (1)

The air in the tent was thick with tension as everyone exchanged silent glances.

Valen’s voice pierced through the silence, echoing with anger.

"Find the queen? Why?!" he shouted, slamming his fist against the wooden table in the center. His knuckles turned red from the blow, trembling with a mix of rage and disbelief.

Cynthia stood opposite him, her hands clasped behind her back. Her calm demeanor only seemed to agitate him further.

"She is the one who unlocked the portal," she said calmly, her voice betraying no emotion.

Valen’s head snapped up, his expression twisting with defiance.

"Mother would never! You have no proof!"

Lucian, standing to the side, spoke before Cynthia could respond.

"I testify she isn’t lying," he said firmly, his gaze locked on Valen’s.

Dylan, who had been leaning against one of the tent poles, straightened his posture.

"Right. She has no reason to accuse the queen without proof," he added, his tone unusually neutral.

The room fell silent at Dylan’s words. Every eye turned to him, their collective shock palpable. Dylan’s disdain for Cynthia was no secret, and yet here he stood, defending her.

"W-What?" Dylan stammered, his face reddening under their scrutiny. "I’m just being reasonable. A person who risked her life to protect Eriol can’t possibly be an enemy of Selvarys—or the kingdom."

Cynthia forced a smile, though guilt gnawed at her insides. She hadn’t expected such trust, and it unsettled her.

"It’s for the better," she murmured under her breath.

Valen sank into a chair, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped. He looked like a man crushed under the weight of an invisible shackle— the bitter truth.

"I-It must be because of you... Lucian," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Cynthia sighed, her patience wearing thin.

She raised a hand, motioning for the others to leave. She needed to talk to him privately to not embarrass him before everyone else.

The group hesitated, exchanging worried glances, but ultimately obeyed her silent command.

One by one, they filed out, leaving her alone with Valen and Lucian.

As soon as the tent flap fell shut, Cynthia’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp as a blade.

"Your Royal Highness, can you stop behaving like an immature child? Stop blaming Lucian for everything that goes wrong in your life. You blamed him for the princess’s and the king’s deaths. And now, with your mother—the queen—betraying the kingdom, you blame him again? How is he at fault every single time?"

Lucian blinked, his lips parting in surprise. No one had ever spoken to Valen this way, let alone in defense of him.

A small, involuntary smile crept onto his face.

A smile mixed with joy and amusement.

Valen looked up, his eyes wide with shock. "I..." He faltered, struggling to find the words.

His gaze shifted to Lucian, then dropped to the burning fire at the center of the tent.

"It’s not that... I... I despised you," he admitted quietly. "I wanted to hate you— to blame you so desperately when I noticed that my parents stopped looking at each other the way they used to after you came into our lives. But... But maybe... they never loved each other to begin with. And somewhere deep inside, I knew that."

Cynthia watched him carefully, her expression unreadable. Rather, she felt nothing towards this man’s words.

"I was jealous," Valen continued, his voice growing softer. "You were the child Father chose to bring into the palace— a child he had from desire— from love. Whichever it was. Meanwhile, I was just... the unwanted son he had to tolerate from his wife. He celebrated your achievements, mourned your failures, but ignored mine entirely."

Lucian’s smile faded. He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t understand the hatred Valen bore for him, nor could he make sense of the years of resentment that had festered like an open wound.

Hearing the response from Lucian, Valen kept shut, pondering about how to face his mother if she had truly decided to betray the kingdom by setting the demons free.

After a moment of silence, he turned to Cynthia, stepping closer.

"Can we talk privately?"

Cynthia tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Sure," she said after a pause.

They stepped outside, their cloaks pulled tightly around them to ward off the chill. The sky above was a dull gray, ash and smoke blotting out the sun. In the distance, fires crackled, their light a stark contrast to the dark clouds rolling in from the horizon.

Lucian broke the silence first.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low and calm. "For speaking up for me in there."

"I had to," Cynthia replied, shaking her head. "You’re too kind for your own good. You never stand up for yourself."

Lucian gave a small, bitter laugh. "You seem to know me better than I know although we spent the same amount of time together."

Cynthia did not respond to his remark.

"And yet, I doubted you," he admitted. "I followed you when you met Duke Ramsel."

Cynthia froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the last. "What...?"

"I heard everything," Lucian said, his gaze steady. "How they killed your parents. How they planned to kill you. And... about your aunt."

Cynthia’s mind raced, her pulse quickening. He knew too much.

"There’s more," Lucian continued, his tone hesitant. "I’ve been having... dreams. Or memories, maybe. I don’t know."

"Memories?" Cynthia echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucian nodded. "They’re fragments, but they’re vivid. In those dreams, my childhood was the same—being brought to the palace, meeting the princess, going to battle. But my marriage to you... and what happened after... was different."

"D-Different how?" Cynthia asked, dread coiling in her stomach.

"In that dream, you were softer. Kinder. You cried instead of getting angry. You didn’t know how to wield a sword." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied her expression. "And I... I suggested divorce."

Cynthia’s breath hitched. He remembered. Or at least, parts of him did.

"And then," Lucian continued, "the demons came. The mana stones failed. You... you died protecting me. And I... I died fighting them."

Cynthia’s face turned pale, her hands clenching at her sides. She tried to keep her composure, but the weight of his words threatened to shatter her resolve.

"Do you... remember everything?" she asked carefully.

Lucian tilted his head, confused.

"Remember? What do you mean by that?.."

Her gaze hardened, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"All the pain you caused me?"

Lucian’s stomach twisted at her words. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could respond, a loud crash came from the tent behind them.

Cynthia straightened, her expression unreadable.

"We’ll finish this later," Lucian said curtly. "We need to finish this war with demons once and for all," Lucian said, his voice steady despite the turmoil roiling within him. "Together."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode back toward the tent. His mind raced with questions, his heart heavy with unease. Whatever had been left unsaid between them would have to wait. For now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

Cynthia hesitated for a moment before following him.

Inside the tent stood a familiar figure—the Queen.

"Y-Your Majesty?" Lucian asked hesitantly, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

The group of knights gathered around the tent, their hands instinctively resting on the hilts of their swords, their eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Wait!" Valen raised his hand to halt them, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at his mother, disbelief and desperation warring in his expression. He refused to accept the accusations.

"Mother..." Valen’s voice was low, almost pleading. "They say you’re the one who set the demons free," he said cautiously, his tone thick with hope. "That’s not true, right? It must be a mistake."

The Queen smiled softly, her gaze fixed on Valen.

"Of course, my dear," she said, her tone warm and soothing. "I, your mother, the Queen, would never do such a thing."

Relief filled Valen’s face as he took a hesitant step forward, his shoulders relaxing from his previously stiffened position.

He failed to notice the claws beginning to extend from Isabella’s fingers, sharp and glinting in the torchlight.

"Step back!" Cynthia’s voice cut through the tense silence yet sharp with urgency.

Her eyes glanced towards the Queen, sensing the unmistakable presence of dark energy radiating from her.

But Valen didn’t listen. He took another step closer, his trust blinding him to the danger ahead of him.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as a cold, piercing pain shot through his side. He looked down to see the Queen’s claw-like hand embedded in his skin, blood pooling around the wound. Unable to overcome the pain, he fell to the ground, groaning in pain.

[Foolish human!] A chilling voice echoed through the tent, layered with malice. The Queen’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk as her voice deepened unnaturally. It was not her own.

Isla, the demon who had taken possession of Isabella’s body, laughed coldly, her voice reverberating off the canvas walls.

The knights drew their swords, their faces pale as the realization sank in.

Just then, another small young female silhouette appeared behind the queen. Dark curly blue hair, emerald eyes, face skin, small features.

"Y-Your Highness," Suyou whispered.

Updated from fr𝒆ewebnov𝒆l.(c)om