msmithbooks 096. No one is allowed to enter.
096. No one is allowed to enter.
When Xinlai woke up in the evening, she felt that half of her body was numb.
He propped himself up on his elbows and sat up from the bed, haphazardly rubbing his hair which was a mess from sleeping, and glanced to the side.
Eve was still curled up in the blankets, breathing evenly and deeply, her face still flushed. She seemed to have lost all her bones, sinking into a deep sleep, and even Xinlai's movement of getting up didn't make her open her eyes.
Xinlai looked at it for a moment, then shook her head helplessly.
As Eve's magical power drew ever closer to that of a witch, that vast yet chaotic force began to surge within her meridians from time to time, like a pot of boiling water about to burst open.
He tried many methods, including guidance, suppression, and medication, but ultimately found that only one method was the most effective and brought her the most peace.
That is to let her gradually expend her excess magic power through emotional engagement.
Of course, Sinley also had to admit one fact: Eve didn't seem to be opposed to it.
Not only do they not reject it, but one could even say they are... somewhat obsessed with it.
In the first few times, she was very awkward and didn't even know where to put her hands. Her face would turn red all the way to her collarbone, and she looked like a stiff and shy little rabbit.
But her learning speed was astonishing. After a few times of sleeping together, she gradually lost her shyness, like a flower that finally dared to fully bloom in the night.
What followed was almost entirely self-taught. She began to take the initiative, to try different poses, and to wear all sorts of clothes she had chosen herself in bed—gauze, silk, adorned with delicate tassels. Each piece was like a carefully prepared gift, meant to present her best self to him without reservation.
Xinlai reached out and gently brushed aside a few strands of purple hair that had fallen across Eve's forehead, her palm pausing for a moment against Eve's forehead. The temperature was normal, and the magical fluctuations were much more stable than the night before.
He leaned down and placed a very light kiss on her forehead, like a feather brushing across the surface of water.
Then he got up.
He used cold water to wash up, and the water in the copper basin jolted him completely awake. As water droplets dripped down his chin, he had already put on his usual calm and unassuming expression.
As I pushed open the door and stepped into the living room, Gordon was already waiting at the table, just as I expected.
An intelligence briefing sealed with sealing wax lay quietly on the table, like a silent nail.
Xinlai tore off the wax seal and glanced at the paper.
News of the impending execution of Marquis Tanstin is spreading throughout the streets and alleys of the capital.
The news, like dandelion seeds scattered by the wind, fell into whispers in every tavern, every square, and every street corner.
Some say he colluded with fallen spirits, and the evidence is conclusive; others say he failed in his fight against the enemy in the North, causing the deaths of thousands; still others say these are just excuses, and the real reason he ended up in this predicament is that he offended Simeon.
Opinions vary, with each side holding its own version of events.
But no one knows the truth.
Xinlai placed the briefing back on the table, her tone indifferent: "What is Father's attitude?"
Gordon paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully: "His Majesty the King has not expressed a clear stance. He has neither urged the execution nor stopped the memorial submitted by Prince Simeon. It's ambiguous."
"..."
Ambiguous. Xin Lai pondered these four words, her gaze darkening. What was most unsettling was not the opposition, but the silence.
Silence means observation, it means the scales have not yet tipped, and it also means that any wind could change the outcome.
He didn't ask any more questions and turned back to his bedroom.
Eve was still asleep, curled up like a kitten instinctively huddled up in the cold night.
Xinlai stood by the bed for a few seconds, then finally reached out and shook her shoulder.
Eve opened her eyes groggily, her pale purple eyes still misty, clearly not yet fully recovered from her exhaustion.
"My whole body aches..." Her voice was hoarse, with a hint of grievance at the end.
Xinlai didn't beat around the bush and told her that the Marquis of Tansting was about to be executed.
In that instant, the mist in Eve's eyes dissipated.
She didn't cry or gasp; she simply sat up quietly from under the covers, hugged her knees, and huddled next to Xinlai, her shoulders slightly hunched, like an injured kitten hiding its body in her arms.
She rested her chin on her knees, her gaze falling on the folds of the bedding.
Xinlai did not urge her to speak.
He knew Eve was putting on a brave face.
That was her father, the father who raised her from childhood. Although she never said the word "worried," her fingers would unconsciously clench the hem of her clothes every time she heard the name "Tanstin."
Now that her father is locked in a dark and sunless dungeon, his life hanging by a thread, how could she not worry?
She just didn't dare to pour out all those emotions, afraid that once she started, she would never be able to stop.
"Then... what should we do now?" Eve finally spoke, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something.
"I need to go to the dungeon," Sinley said. "If possible, I'll try to get you in."
Eve looked up, a faint but real light appearing in her eyes: "Can we go in? I heard that the dungeon is now guarded by Simondo, and outsiders can't get in at all."
"I'll figure something out." Xinlai took her hand.
Her fingers were icy cold, her knuckles delicate, like porcelain that would shatter at the slightest pressure. He squeezed them tightly, transferring the warmth of his palm to her. "Wait for my news at the castle."
"……Um."
……
Without delay, he changed into dark casual clothes, left the castle alone with no attendants, and led his horse out.
The sound of horses' hooves clattering on the cobblestone streets was particularly crisp in the morning mist, each clatter like a countdown.
The palace dungeon remained as grand and austere as ever.
The wall, made of gray boulders, crouched on the ground like a silent behemoth, and the ancient inscriptions carved on the huge iron gate gleamed dimly in the morning light.
Unlike before, there were significantly more soldiers guarding the area, their armor gleaming coldly in the mist, forming a chilling line.
Xin Lai dismounted, his gaze sweeping over the familiar stone basin in front of the stone gate. The person who had guided him to open the gate by dripping blood was gone, leaving only the dried, dark marks in the basin, like a silent rejection.
Without hesitation, he walked straight forward, drew his dagger, and lightly sliced his fingertip. Crimson blood rolled down, about to drip into the stone basin.
"stop!"
An arm covered in iron armor lay across his chest. The guard on his left reached out to stop him, his voice as harsh as clashing stones, "This is a heavily guarded dungeon; unauthorized personnel are not permitted!"
Xin Lai stopped what she was doing, turned her head to look at him, her gaze calm: "What, you won't even give me a drop of blood?"
The guard recognized his face. The stiffness on that face loosened for a moment, but the body still did not move aside.
"Your Highness, Third Prince," the guard on the right interjected, his tone much more polite than his companion's, tinged with a hint of caution.
"It's not that we're disrespecting you. It's just that... this dungeon is currently holding a heinous criminal like Marquis Tanstin. Lord Simondo has given a strict order that no one is allowed to enter without his permission."