LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 12: You Want Me To Do What Now? Sleep with the Enemy Next? What are all these bullshit terms and conditions that I was never told?
She stays there until the fluids have gone sticky and crusty. Unable to sleep a wink. She’s been debating her internal monologues from moon fall to sunup. Repeating to herself, he’s just a stranger. That seems mean. She knows it won’t be true. Then, a friend. Yeah. A friend. A friend. Just a friend. She can love a friend. Right. She chants it like a mantra until she’s able to swindle herself into believing so and the daylights are stinging her eyes. The noises outside have calmed, but the footsteps remain hectic in pitter-patters. She should probably get up and see if there’s anything she could do to help. Lying here just makes her heart ache.
Quietly as possible, she wiggles herself out of his hold. She looks utterly wretched. Feels the same way too. The bathroom’s tucked to the side of the room. She’ll need to clean up first. Shrugging off the maid dress; she undoes the bandages and slips out of bed. But the moment she tries to take the first step. She instantly collapses onto the ground. Hold up. What is this? Her wounds are all gone but why are her thighs still so sore? Her strength should be back by now. Something doesn’t feel right. She tries to wave light into her hand,
“Manifest.” nothing happens. Then she stretches it out, attempting to crush a vase atop the counter across the room,
“Disintegrate.” It’s not working. Huh.
“What the fuck is this?” this could only be one person’s doing. That means she’s still here, “Bathory?”
What do you want?
The prick is still here! “Where the fuck are my powers?”
I gave it back. Your healy-ma-jiggy.
“No! The rest of it.”
One guy, one power. Fair trade.
“What’s this dogshit terms and conditions? How many more times do you want me to do this?”
I said I wanted to fuck hot guys. Plural. You still have super strength, super speed, light manipulation, telekinesis and, hold on, what does this dark purply one say. Devil’s command? Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Yeah. So, five more. Also, by the way, as long as I’m here. You don’t need to worry about pregnancy. There’s no space to house another soul. Aren’t I useful?
“That’s the least of my concerns! You want me to sleep with five more different guys?”
Of course! Haven’t you read romance novels? I want to experience all the archetypes. The unapproachable and aloof one hiding a soft and caring personality. The wild and untamed one that treats people like dirt because he has a disturbed past. The ditsy dog like himbo that’s actually cunning as a fox. The snarky, inexperienced brat that you want to protect at all costs. The silver-tongued, fuck boy childhood friend that holds a candle for you for the longest time. The twisted, sadistic, sex bomb that you must never approach because he’s your archrival but it’s going to be an end game enemies-to-lovers scenario and you’re going to redeem him. Or you can go for a harem ending. It’s whatever, I don’t really care for the lovey-dovey shit.
“What the fuck have you even been reading? Some of these requests sound straight up impossible. Childhood friend? Archrival? Where the fuck am I supposed to find people like that, you don’t even have friends!”
Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ll show up. You already checked one out of the list. And I have identified the other.
“Absolutely not! I’m not sleeping with that red haired maniac!”
You don’t have a choice if you want all your powers back.
“Thinking about your next conquest, already? You’re a lot more cold-hearted than you look.”
“I’m not-” that wasn’t Bathory. She instantly flicks her head up. Soril’s yawning, throwing his legs off the ledge as he sits up to study her with a drowsy look on his face,
“What are you doing on the floor?” shit. She must’ve woken him up,
“It’s Bathory. She’s still holding the rest of my powers hostage, I have no strength to walk.” he scoffs,
“That so?” but he’s getting out of bed to scoop her up. Bridal carrying her in his arms, “my bad.” He doesn’t sound remorseful at all. But before she’s able to snark him about it,
“I wasn’t just having a crazy fever dream huh.” he clarifies,
“Let me get this situation straight. You’re Lumeria, an angel residing in the body of a dead mortal girl named Bathory. You can heal wounds with your blood, and you have a bunch of other abilities, but Bathory won’t return them until you do what she wants?” he’s approaching the bathroom. Nudging the door open with an elbow before plopping her into the wooden tub and running the water.
“Archangel.” she corrects.
“And sleeping with me unlocked your magical blood.” Well. A lot of it was due to her own volition since she technically didn’t have to follow through most of last night. But she doesn’t need to announce that she got completely seduced. She’ll just go with his narrative,
“That’s what I’ve been trying to convince you the entire time. Though, I thought I’d be getting all my powers back at once.”
“Right. Pardon me for not believing you. You must realize how insane you sounded.” he’s sitting down on the ledge of the tub, leaning against the wall and folding his arms before his chest,
“And now, Bathory wants to sleep with Judas so you can regain another ability?”
“Who?” he mimics the words she used,
“The red-haired maniac.” he’s been eavesdropping.
“Supposedly if he’s still alive. Last I remembered I threw him off the wall.” he chuckles at that,
“Nice.” before shrugging, “he probably is.”
“How would you know?”
“The golden armor he’s wearing. It’s Godorian steel. The toughest metal in the whole of Astoran. The fall damage from that height coupled with his combat prowess, wouldn’t be enough to get rid of him.”
“That’s why your wires couldn’t cut through him.” No. That implies so much more, “The prophecy! Estelis has already contacted Godor.”
“Prophecy?”
“I saw something in my dreams when I first got here. Godor is going to help Estalis take Astia. Astia’s going to fall.”
“That’s impossible. We signed a treaty with Godor to remain neutral in this war. The Godorians are strict matriarchs. They wouldn’t willingly assist a patriarchal expansionist like Estalis. Besides, they have enough internal conflicts to worry about themselves than to interfere with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.”
“Well. Then I’m telling you. Things may be changing. The treaty may be breached.”
“How reliable are your prophecies?”
“I... don’t really know. Truthfully, I can’t even be certain if it’s just a dream or a prophecy. I haven’t been able to speak with Father. But don’t you think the fact that an Estalian soldier is wearing Godorian armor is something to be alarmed by?”
“He could’ve simply purchased it from a Godorian merchant.”
“It shows that they’re trading.” he reaches forward to stop the tap. The water is up to her knees that she’s propped up at this point. But he’s just languidly lathering soap in his hands. Before rubbing it into her hair. She forces herself to flinch away. Reminds herself, don’t be so indulgent. Don’t be swayed,
“I can do it myself.” she snaps. He backs up, retreats his arms and slouches into the wall.
“Go ahead then.” she runs her fingers through the strands. They’re so tangled. She’s furiously tugging at them as she pries,
“Why aren’t you more disturbed by what I just told you?”
“We’re a month away from Lunarend,” she assumes, that’s probably the capital of Astia,
“And the only thing I can do is send word to the Crown. But I don’t think the prince will quite believe me if I wrote, I found an angel and she told me she saw a prophecy that Godor is going to stab us in the back.”
“So, you’re not going to do anything about this information?”
“I’ll need more than a prophecy to convince the royals. I need proof.”
“It may be too late by the time you even find proof,” She’s pulling out her hair, “If Godor intends to backstab Astia, then they sure as hell won’t be up front about it.”
“Then what do you propose? Miss Angel.” She is suddenly stopped at the wrists, Soril’s prying her hands from her head. Setting them down against her knees, he’s choosing to address,
“You’re going bald at this rate.” leaning forward for a hairbrush against the sink before swiping a dagger off his belt,
“Want me to trim it for you?” Why does he have to be such a heart throb. No. She pushes the thought away. She shouldn’t be so conscious of him to begin with. A friend. Just a friend. Yeah. A friend can give another friend haircuts. She reluctantly relents,
“Don’t make me look retarded.”
“You don’t need my help for that.” he nonchalantly dodges her attempt at elbowing his stomach, before he starts working. Piecing the matted strands over her shoulders segment by segment. He’s being so gentle, she doesn’t even feel the tug, instead, the warmth of his fingertips is sinking beneath her sculp. She cradles herself into her knees. Keeps her eyes from wandering to the lip shaded bruises she left on his neck. This isn’t good. Her heart’s faltering again. Don’t be so proud of that. Stay still. Stop beating so fast.
Distract herself. Distract herself. What were they talking about? Right. Proof. He needs proof to convince the royals. If they were trading, then, there would be an influx of Godorian goods and weaponry in the Estalian army. But how will she go about collating the statistics? It isn’t like she can count the weapons midst battle. What about afterwards? No... Even if Godor is selling weapons to Estalis, it doesn’t prove that they’re going to join their side. They could just be looking to make a quick profit out of this conflict. She needs something more decisive. What is it? An official document? But how the hell will she get her hands on something like that. Does it even exist?
Or... Is she approaching this the wrong way? Do they really need to prove that Godor is siding with Estalis? Proof will not exist on the battlefields where Soril’s at until it’s too late, but cracks will be found on the discussion tables. There would be more meetings between the Sansara of Godor and the King of Estelis, more interactions, more exchanges of letters if whatever she saw were true. This is a political game. And to find proof they’ll need spies, information, to the inside of Godor and Estelis. If it’s possible, they’ll need to start intercepting their communications. But Soril doesn’t have enough clearance for that. Only the royals can command so. That’s it. She’s got it. She instantly lights up,
“It’s me! I’m your proof!”
“Huh?”
“We don’t need to prove that Godor is siding with Estalis. We just need to gain the royal’s trust so they can be alerted about a potential betrayal, and they can investigate into it.”
“And...?”
“Bring me to the Crown Prince. I can just show him my regenerative abilities and he’ll have to take me seriously.”
“I can’t just bring a commoner into the castle.”
“Then what about the Third Princess of Genocia? Bathory Yggstel Weiss is alive and requests a meeting with him.”
“So, this actually is the body of Bathory Yggstel Weiss?” she frowns at him,
“You just weren’t listening to me, were you.”
“Forgive me, it’s not every day I encounter this bizarre of a scenario.” but he shrugs,
“Even if that’s the case, you’d still have to prove that you are Bathory Yggstel Weiss to request a meeting with the Crown Prince. He orders me around. Not the other way round.” he looks exhausted when he mentions him, begrudging beneath his breath,
“And he’s annoying to deal with, he’s thick as a buffoon.” oh. She’s always assumed they had a friendly relationship given his nickname. But from the expression he’s making. Soril doesn’t appear that fond of him.
Will my family’s jade crest serve enough as proof? She certainly didn’t expect that,
“When did you start caring about this world’s affairs?” but that only confuses Soril. She’s pointing above her head to indicate that she’s conversing with Bathory.
When you mentioned the Crown Prince. Rumors of his good looks has spread even to Genocia but I fucking died before I got to meet him.
Ah. Figures. She shouldn’t have that high of an expectation for Bathory.
“Will her family’s jade crest do?”
“If you have it. Definitely.”
“So, where is your family’s jade crest, what does it look like?”
I don’t know. I think I left it under the haystack in Ryden when I was running away from the attack. It’s of a butterfly. The sigil of Genocia.
“Hey Soril. Want to infiltrate Ryden with me?”
“Sure. I need to go and survey the situation eventually.”
“Alright. This settles it then! Let’s go back to Ryden.” excitedly, she tries to bolt up from the tub. But he just presses her on the shoulders to sit her down again,
“Don’t move. I might accidentally shave a bald spot.” right. She’s still getting a haircut.