Meryl bustled into the room, her brow knit with worry as she set the purchased herbs on the table.
"Your Highness, are you hurt? If so, you must summon the physician at once."
Gwen simply waved her hand. "It's for him."
Meryl thought to herself, Well, that's a relief. I rushed here for nothing.
Gwen deftly retrieved the magic potion stove.
With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed her magic, transforming the herbs into a concentrated liquid that hovered in the air before neatly slipping into the narrow mouth of the potion bottle.
Soon, a bottle of light green, viscous liquid was formed.
"Here, drink it," Gwen said, handing the potion to Lancaster.
The moment Gwen withdrew her magic, a blinding white flash assailed her vision.
She managed to pass the potion to Lancaster and then pretended all was well as she sank onto the sofa, leaning back and unconsciously rubbing her temples.
Strange.
This wasn't the first time this had happened.
Since her rebirth, her magic had been wildly unstable.
It was like a nearly full vial, liable to leak and spiral out of control at any moment, even lashing back at her.
Perhaps this was the price of being reborn?
"Your Highness? Your Highness?" Eli called out, his voice tinged with anxiety when she didn't respond.
He knocked and entered, ready to report on the knights' investigation in Wismin.
But when he looked up, he saw the vacant look in the princess's eyes.
"Ah… ah?"
Gwen blinked, coming to her senses from the dizziness. She was startled to see a strand of leaping thunder light on her fingertip, like a tiny, nimble thunder snake.
"Um…" She mustered a smile for Eli. "I'm tired. Come back and report tomorrow."
The knight captain's light brown eyes were filled with concern.
He bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. Please rest well."
Gwen sighed with relief.
Thankfully, Lancaster had roused her in time.
Otherwise, Eli would surely have noticed something was amiss.
She hadn't told anyone about the abnormality of her magic yet.
"Thank you." she said, nodding slightly at Lancaster in gratitude.
Lancaster frowned, stepped closer, and placed his broad palm on her forehead, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the chaotic fluctuations of her magic.
"What's going on?"
The magic within her was in turmoil, which was highly abnormal.
"I don't know either…" Gwen said helplessly.
She felt cold all over but forced a reassuring smile.
"Maybe I'm just exhausted."
Lancaster bit back the words of concern on his lips.
It seemed he had no obligation to care for her.
Gwen summoned the court maid waiting outside and instructed her to take Lancaster to the guest room.
Lancaster gave the maid a cold glare, remaining rooted to the spot and ignoring her completely.
Instead, he looked down at the golden whorl on Gwen's head.
"Where do you live?"
"On the second floor. The main room in the middle."
"Shouldn't we stay together?" Lancaster said, his face cold but his words astonishing.
The maid gasped and scurried away nervously, closing the door behind her.
What had she just heard?
Wouldn't the princess have her silenced for this?
The maid broke out in a cold sweat.
Gwen's smile froze.
She raised her hand, then let it fall, and finally left it hovering in mid-air.
Her lips parted and closed again.
She couldn't answer that!
She shook her head. "I don't understand what you mean."
Her hands and feet were ice-cold, yet her face felt like it was on fire.
"We're not officially married yet. So…"
"You've misunderstood." Lancaster said, finding her flustered state rather amusing.
His tone lightened a bit.
"You promised not to harm me. But others could still threaten me."
He glanced at the door.
"Your knight captain didn't seem too friendly."
Lancaster looked melancholy.
"Only by staying with you can I be safest, right?"
Gwen thought, Come on, he doesn't have to make himself sound so vulnerable!
Does this tyrant have paranoia?
Staying together was out of the question, but she had an idea.
She led Lancaster to an empty room at the end of the third floor.
With practiced ease, she found a loose brick on the wall, pressed it, and the wall slid aside, revealing a hidden door.
Behind it was a dark, deep secret passage.
She had discovered it as a child when vacationing at Wismin Palace.
It was said that a former king of Linsey had built it to conceal his mistress.
The passage led to the main room.
Finally satisfied, Lancaster nodded.
Gwen, feeling dizzy, made her way back to her room through the secret passage.
She changed into a comfortable long white silk dress, lay down, and curled up into a ball.
She wrapped herself in the soft, thick goose-down quilt but still couldn't stop shivering.
There was only one thought in her mind: she had to calm these strange magic fluctuations as soon as possible.
The current situation in the kingdom didn't allow her to rest easy.
The noble council would be held in a year, and by then, the crown prince candidate would be announced. If word of her unstable magic got out, it would surely damage Tyr's reputation.
No one would support a prince with no magic talent and a princess with unstable magic, even if their inheritance rights were legitimate.
The power struggle was always so ruthless.
No… She forced herself to sit up and regulate her breathing.
Lancaster stood in front of the still-open secret passage door, his eyes dark and gloomy.
Then he sighed softly.
Damn it, he was still worried about her.
There had been cases of mages facing mortal danger due to abnormal magic.
But it was clear she didn't want the news of her unstable magic to spread.
As a member of the royal family, constantly under scrutiny, having abnormal magic was a bad thing.
That's why she was trying to tough it out.
Hopefully, it was just ordinary fluctuations.
He comforted himself and closed the hidden door.
She probably didn't want him to find out either, even though he already had.
He closed his eyes, his thoughts churning.
After a while, he reopened his eyes and pressed the special brick again.
Standing there, he could feel the intense magic fluctuations from below.
Gwen was gasping for breath, her eyes glazed.
The edge of the bedsheet she clutched was now covered with a thin layer of frost.
It was so cold, and she was so sleepy.
Her eyelids drooped heavier and heavier.
She really wanted to sleep…
Once that thought took hold, it wouldn't leave.
She felt her control over her magic slipping.
Her body tilted, and she collapsed onto the bed.
Her long golden curls fanned out on the dark bedsheet like a beautiful, serene oil painting.
"Your Highness?"
She couldn't open her eyes. She could vaguely hear someone speaking but couldn't make out the words.
Lancaster called her several times, but there was no response.
When he touched her wrist, it was nearly ice-cold.
If she fell asleep like this, he didn't know if she'd ever wake up again.
He didn't want his powerful backer to die just like that!
In a half-awake state, Gwen herself being roughly pulled up.
She was almost lifted and then carried horizontally in someone's arms.
She suddenly regained consciousness.
Uncontrollably and without any guard, she habitually blurted out a name.
"Gilbert?"
Her clear ice-blue eyes were clouded with confusion as she tried to make out the person.
Huh…?
Emerald green eyes.
It wasn't Gilbert.
Gilbert's eyes were red, like rubies.
She thought hazily, yet her nose brushed against Lancaster's forehead.
Her soft golden hair tickled his ear.
This person was warmer than Gilbert…
Gilbert? That sounded like a man's name.
Lancaster was momentarily stunned, his face darkening and a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Hmph…
He wondered who this Gilbert was that could make the princess think of him at a time like this when she could barely take care of herself.
Completely oblivious to her blunder, Gwen lay limply in his arms.
She closed her eyes, on the verge of falling asleep again.
"Don't sleep."
Lancaster said, placing her on the hard dressing table.
"Gwen Ackerman." he sneered, using her full name for the first time.
"Who gave you permission to die now?"
He placed his hand on her right shoulder and pinned her in front of the large square mirror.
"Wake up!"
Gwen's spine hit the sharp edge of the mirror.
Coupled with his words, which were hard to decipher as concern or threat, she finally regained a bit more of her senses.
Facing Lancaster's cold and handsome face, she shivered.
Fortunately, she had woken up.
Otherwise, she suspected Lancaster might have given her a rough electric treatment.
But why did he seem so angry?
Gwen tilted her head, puzzled.
Her whole body was frozen stiff with cold.
Although she was temporarily awake, the magic was still raging out of control.
"It's so cold." she murmured.
Lancaster crossed his arms and watched for a moment.
In the end, he couldn't bear it.
The height of the dressing table put Gwen at eye level with him.
He tried not to look into those watery almond-shaped eyes.
Damn it… He actually found her dazed and confused look incredibly charming.
So charming that he wanted to hide her away from everyone.
Lancaster turned his head and grasped her slender wrist.
Was he absorbing the overflowing magic?
Gwen was shocked and stared at him in disbelief.
The magic of different mages usually repelled each other, meaning this process must be excruciatingly painful.
The cold sweat on Lancaster's forehead confirmed it.
She stared at him blankly for a long time.
Was this really the infamous tyrant?
But the warming sensation on her wrist was real.
When she came to her senses and tried to pull her wrist away—
Lancaster not only held on tighter but also glared at her fiercely.
"Do you want to die?"
"If you don't want to die, don't move."
…How dare he order her around?!
Gwen was both amused and exasperated, but she obediently let him do as he wished and focused on regulating her magic.
For his sake, she could tolerate his occasional overstepping.
She wondered if it was her imagination.
Gwen lowered her eyes.
She actually thought he was rather gentle.
She must be going crazy from the influx of magic.
After all, Lancaster had choked her just a while ago.
Half an hour later, the magic finally calmed.
Lancaster released her wrist, still glowering at her.
Before Gwen could thank him, Lancaster scooped her up, tossed her back onto the bed, and walked away without a backward glance.
He even snorted coldly.
What on earth had she done to annoy him?
She rubbed her sore waist where it had hit the mirror corner, buried her head in the quilt, and thought.
A tyrant was a tyrant.
He was really difficult to get along with.