The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Adeline dashed through her three opponents, her radiant sword carving luminous arcs in the dim air. Determination burned in her gaze as she faced them, every movement fueled by sheer will.

She raised her sword, bracing against their attacks. Sparks flew as steel clashed against conjured light. Her arms trembled, exhaustion weighing down her muscles—fighting Veylor and the others earlier had drained her.

A short distance away, Clara struggled against the rough ropes digging into her wrists, her muffled cries barely escaping past the gag.

"I want to help Aunt Adeline..." she whispered, her voice fragile. 

Tears blurred her vision. "And Ivy?"

The memory struck her like a hammer, surging forward with cruel clarity—she could see Ivy, surrounded, desperately shielding her. Clara had fought back, but the assassins were too skilled. They overwhelmed her, forcing her to watch as their blades pierced Ivy's body.

A strangled whimper escaped her lips. "Ivy..." Her heart fractured under the weight of grief.

A sharp cry snapped Clara from her sorrow. Her head moved up just in time to see Adeline stagger, blood blooming across her waist.

"Aunt Adeline!" She tried to scream, but the gag strangled her voice.

Adeline gritted her teeth and retaliated, slashing through her enemies' hands, forcing them to drop their weapons. With a final, sweeping arc, her blade cut through the air, slicing cleanly across their abdomens.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, with heavy thuds, their bodies collapsed onto the forest floor.

Adeline didn't hesitate. She spun and rushed to Clara, severing her bindings and pulling the gag from her mouth.

"Clara, I'll get you out of here. Let's go," Adeline reassured her.

Clara's hands trembled as she clung to her, her small frame shaking. Adeline stiffened in surprise—then softened, pressing a hand to the girl's back.

"It's okay now," she murmured, stroking Clara's hair.

Clara buried her face deeper into Adeline's embrace, her heart lurching with fragile hope. Or so she thought.

As they finally let go of each other's arms, a sudden whisper of steel cut through the darkness.

The blade plunged into Adeline's back.

She gasped as the cold steel tore through her stomach. A ragged breath escaped her lips, blood slipping from her mouth. The sword of light vanished from her grasp.

Clara's world shattered. Her vision blurred as she stared in horror at the crimson-stained sword embedded in Adeline's flesh, her once-strong figure crumbling.

The assassin wrenched the blade free. Adeline collapsed before Clara, clutching the wound, but the blood wouldn't stop.

"Aunt Adeline?" Clara's voice was small, broken.

Adeline's gaze flickered up, pain contorting her face. "Clara... run..." she rasped.

Laughter echoed through the clearing. From the shadows, dark figures emerged, their smirks glinting in the dim light.

"Letting your guard down is a mistake, Duchess," one mocked, twirling his blade. "And that mistake will lead to your downfall."

The cruel giggles slithered into Clara's ears, curling around her chest like a vice. Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled into trembling fists.

The three assassins turned their gaze on her, eyes gleaming with malice.

"No one can save you now, brat," another sneered. "You should be honored—you are the key to our High Priest's goal."