Part 3The Goddess and the Duke

Tiffany deliberately picked a moment when Xander left the table to say to me, "Do you really think you, the new fling, can replace me, the old love?"

I chuckled softly.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Sorry. I'm not the new fling. I'm the old love." I turned my prayer beads, the sound crisp, smiling lazily. "And you? You're just something that can't make it to the main stage."

The Duchess was my mother’s best friend. Xander and I were betrothed before birth. Later, my mother died, our countries fought, and I lost contact with Xander.

Reuniting now was an opportunity I had plotted for years.

A mere illegitimate daughter, where did she get this mysterious confidence to provoke me?

My plain words seemed to hit a nerve, twisting Tiffany’s somewhat delicate features into ugliness.

It was midnight when we arrived at the Sterling estate. On the way back, the Duchess cursed the foolish King the whole time.

Xander carried me through the corridor. Passing a pear tree blooming like clouds, I tugged his collar to stop.

I looked up with interest at the snowy tree.

"What are you looking at?" Xander asked, looking down.

I smiled and lifted my chin.

Xander followed my gaze. Under the moonlight, a mottled brown snake was coiled on a branch, hissing, slowly creeping toward a clueless sparrow.

Xander sighed with a smile. "You're not cold anymore."

I coughed symbolically.

Xander signaled the guard behind him. A flying knife shot straight out, piercing the snake's head. The sparrow startled and flew away.

I said somewhat sadly, "The snake could have had a full meal."

Xander’s brows were picturesque as he looked down at me. "Careful it doesn't bite you."

Frowning, I leaned on Xander’s shoulder and instructed the guard, "Cut a cross on the seven-inch mark. It's easier to peel the skin."

The guard looked at my retreating smiling face and shuddered for no reason.

The maids lit the stove, burned silver charcoal, and lowered the layers of gauze curtains around the gold-thread bed.

But curled under the quilt, I still felt cold all over.

In the latter half of the night, I felt the bed dip. A hand reached under the covers, and the next moment, my cold feet fell into a warm palm.

I propped myself up, but before I could speak, Xander’s addictive voice sounded. "Warming you up."

I rarely walked. My feet were well-kept, white and delicate like cold jade. A little carelessness would leave a red mark.

Xander kneaded them like treasures, his palm covering my cold knees, protecting them with just the right pressure. "Princess, warm yet?"

I reached out, wrapping my arms around his neck, innocent and pure. "Is the Duke seeking favor from this Princess?"

Xander leaned in. The dim candlelight coated his face with a shadow, sharp and wickedly handsome.

Suddenly, he grabbed my waist, one hand turning my chin. His warm breath sprayed on my neck, voice lowered. "Yes. Princess, reward your subject well."

With that, he pushed me into the bedding. For a moment, it felt like falling into soft clouds with nowhere to leverage.

I closed my eyes tight. But Xander chuckled low and acted like a gentleman all night.

Except for being a "bed warmer," he did nothing.

When I woke up, Xander wasn't there. Only Anin was guarding me.

She was brought from Aethelgard, serving me for five years.

"Princess, the Duke prepared a hot spring for you. He said it relieves your cold sickness and helps your legs. Maybe with more soaking, the Princess can walk."

I nodded, and Anin easily lifted me in her arms.

My leg disability was known to few. Being carried was something I was used to.

The hot spring water misted up, red gauze floating.

I crossed my arms, submerged in the steaming water.

Suddenly, a noise outside. Anin got up quickly. "I'll go check."

Not long after, the door was smashed open. Several servants barged in, and standing behind them was Tiffany.

Cold air rushed in. I hugged my arms and moved deeper into the pool.

Tiffany, dressed gaudily, paced in slowly. She curtsied respectfully to me, smiling with pursed lips. "I came today to move my things into the Sterling estate early. Heard the Princess was here, so I came to pay respects."

"Get out."

A wicked smile appeared on Tiffany’s lips. She sniffed the medicinal scent in the air, speaking sweetly. "Why doesn't the Princess stand up? Can't you?"

She pulled a letter from her sleeve and waved it. "This is a letter from the Eldest Princess of Aethelgard. Turns out the Princess is a cripple who can't walk. And you were meant to be a gift to someone else, but you tricked Xander into bringing you to Zephyr."

I looked up, my gaze turning cold.

Winona... she was in league with Tiffany?

Tiffany suddenly approached me. "Princess, why so distant? Why hide so far away? We need to look out for each other in the future." Saying that, she reached out to grab me.

Just as her hand was about to touch me, my eyes darkened. I grabbed her arm, my slender fingers finding a fatal pressure point through her clothes, and struck hard.

Tiffany suddenly went numb, half her body twitching uncontrollably. The sharp pain from her shoulder made her crash to the ground, hair ornaments scattering everywhere.

Pathetic.

The sudden change scared her.

Tiffany sat paralyzed by the pool, panic-stricken pupils reflecting the delicate girl behind the mist. Eyes hiding ruthlessness, with a faint smile, saying to her: "Get the hell out."

Tiffany scrambled up, grimacing. As she turned, she looked back, eyes widening as if she caught my secret.

She pointed at my exposed white arm, gasping. "You don't have a shougong sand mark!" (Note: A traditional mark of virginity).

My face remained calm, but she laughed with increasing schadenfreude, shouting at me. "You lost your chastity long ago, yet you dare cling to Xander!"

She shouted outside, "Someone come! Everyone get in here!"

No one outside dared move.

Tiffany’s voice grew harsh. "Dare you disobey me?"

The servants looked at each other, heads bowed, shuffling in with eyes glued to the floor.

I moved to the thickest part of the mist, sinking into the water to cover myself, arms crossed tightly.

Anin had been gone for a long time.

"You haven't seen Aethelgard's most noble Princess, have you? Come, open your eyes and look." Tiffany smiled ambiguously. "Whoever sees the clearest, I'll ask my father to promote you. Beautiful maids, houses, fields—you name it!"

Greed stirred in the men. They looked up, gazes wandering. Behind the mist, snowy shoulders and jade-like skin were faintly visible.

Someone wavered but was afraid. "This is... the most precious person raised by the power of a nation. We dare not..."

"Nonsense! She's just a high-class courtesan sent to please an enemy country! The Sterling house has strict morals. If others find out, the whole estate's reputation will be ruined."

Tiffany seemed to think of something and smiled. How could she miss this chance?

She turned to run out, shouting, "Aethelgard's Princess is loose! Committing adultery with low-class men..."

A sharp sound of a sword being drawn cut off Tiffany’s words.

"You dare call this Duke low-class?"

Then a loud slap. The Duchess was furious. "Bastard! Uncouth thing! What do you think my house is? Who let them in? Drag them out and execute them!"

The door was kicked open, cold wind howling.

Xander’s figure was tall and slender, radiating terrifying authority.

The servants Tiffany brought were blinded on the spot. Three killed, one left covering his eyes, rolling on the ground screaming in blood.

Xander walked slowly into the pool, placed the sword in my hand, and hugged my waist from behind. He guided me step by step back to the edge, looking down at the servant.

"Princess, the fastest way to kill someone is to slit the throat." He held me, his chest vibrating gently as he spoke.

I nodded slightly.

The next instant, Xander guided my hand to ruthlessly slash the man’s throat.

I stared blankly at the red pool. The person behind me held my waist tight, protecting me.

Wet hair outlined a graceful figure. Water droplets rolled down, dripping onto my shoulder like morning dew.

Suddenly, my chest tightened. The smell of blood surged in my throat. I looked down and vomited a mouthful of black blood.