The Swordswoman's Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 18 Safe Return

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Isolde replied firmly. “No, Lord Theodric is unwell. Marshal, escort him back to the city first. If I were to take him alone, I couldn’t handle any danger that might arise.”

“Then how will you return?” Oliver asked, his tone tinged with concern.

Isolde smiled faintly. “It’s so close. Even walking. I’ll be back in no time.”

Oliver’s sharp brows furrowed slightly as he shook his head. “No, your foot is injured.”

Theodric clung tightly to Isolde’s sleeve, his fever–flushed face stubborn. “Lady Isolde, I don’t want you to leave,” he said, glancing nervously at Oliver.

Isolde froze, briefly meeting Oliver’s tense and shadowed gaze. His stern expression was enough to make Theodric uneasy.

She knelt slightly to reassure Theodric with a soft smile “Don’t be afraid. The Marshal is a good man. Don’t yo remember? He saved us yesterday.”

But Theodric refused to let go, his little hands gripping her tightly. “Take me back yourself,” he insisted, his tone resolute despite his small stature.

Isolde hesitated, then turned to Oliver with an apologetic look. “Marshal Valois, would you mind if we shared a horse?”

Oliver, already uneasy about letting her return alone, sighed and replied, I don’t mind. But you should. If anyone sees, it could tarnish your reputation.”

Isolde chuckled softly, her voice calm yet resolute. “Reputation? I care nothing for it.”

Oliver was caught off guard by her words. A woman who cared nothing for her reputation? The very idea was almost absurd. Though Isolde and William’s betrothal had been a topic of discussion, a tarnished name could still ruin everything, not to mention the objections Oliver’s foster mother would surely raise.

“If you truly don’t care, then let’s go.” Oliver said at last, Isolde was already astride her horse, her posture straight and composed. The sun framed her silhouette, casting a soft halo around her figure as she smiled warmly. Yet beneath that radiant expression lay a trace of sadness, subtle but unmistakable.

One thought nagged at him. If the same person is behind the abduction of both Theodric and Isolde, why target her rather than the Duke of Blackmoor’s son?

Everyone in the capital knew the Duke cared little for his daughter.

She seemed oblivious, yet Oliver suspected she understood far more than she let on.

Another mystery tugged at his mind; his horse had never allowed anyone else to ride it–carried Isolde now without so much as a hint of resistance.

As Theodric clung tightly to her, Oliver mounted awkwardly behind them, careful to avoid touching her. But the saddle was narrow, and despite her attempts to can forward, the closeness was inevitable.

his cloak and handed it

harder for anyone

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don’t mind,” she said

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replied, his tone sharp “The dignity of the

disliked him. While Oliver treated William with the deference of an elder brother, his true feelings remained

everyone.

set

with the sharp tang of blood from Oliver’s wounds. Isolde’s

it can bear it,” she

Oliver said flatly. “You’re injured, and if we go faster, keeping any

horseback, there

pressed, touching the boy’s forehead anxiously. “We cannot afford to delay. A moment longer could cost him his life. My injury is trivial by comparison.”

resolve in her voice, Oliver offered no further argument. With a flick of his

for speed and endurance–flew across the earth, swift

hard, his horse kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. A rising star at the Emperor’s court–who

recognize the legendary horse beneath him, a gift to the Eryndral Empire that none could tame, save Oliver himself. That horse, after all, had already patrolled the city, leaving a

Oliver’s steed thundered

making their rounds, arriving just

veiled, carried the young heir slumped against her shoulder, his back turned to Milton. The encounter lasted only a

disappear around the

he asked one of his

the man, but judging

as one of the Emperor favorites, he has no

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were his own–is there no one bold enough to

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fellow rising star in the military. Milton found Oliver insufferable. A boy barely past

Marquis was clearly grooming him. Without that backing,

the famed Marshal, Douglas Valois, and his adoptive father, the Marquis

weakness. The most accomplished

Milton himself, it was only through the remnants of that great–uncle’s connections that he’d secured a position at the city gates. Years of maneuvering and

princess’s manor, the guards stood vigilant. Oliver reined in his steed at the gates. dismounting swiftly.