Olive shook his head. "No."
"Olive, my father wants to use this opportunity to kill Draven," Valentine revealed.
Olive appeared skeptical. "How do you mean? It is a duel."
"Yes, it is. But my father will be adding a dozen of his skilled fighters, including his personal butler, Mr. Aldéric." Valentine combed his fingers through his hair, stressed out. "This man, Aldéric, is very strong. We do not even compare to him in strength, despite being of royal blood. His strength is quite above half of my father's strength."
"How will Draven fight such a man, including a dozen more fighters and that asshole of a brother? That will be nothing more than courting death."
Olive was at a standstill, not even able to think anymore. His eyes were dilated, completely feeling as though none of it were real. No way would Draven die—not after they had come that far.
He subconsciously shook his head.
