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.

handed it to her. “Cover your

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she said lightly, almost

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do, he replied, his tone sharp “The dignity of the Valen name isn’t something I’m willing to gamble

Oliver treated William with the deference

everyone.

they set off at a steady pace

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

bear it,” she urged, her

more concerned about you.” Oliver said flatly. “You’re injured, and if we go faster, keeping any distance

horseback, there was no distance between

is dangerously high, she pressed, touching the boy’s forehead anxiously. “We cannot afford to delay. A moment longer could cost him his

Oliver offered no further argument. With a flick of his whip, the horse broke into a gallop, its

mount–a noble destrier, bred for speed and endurance–flew across the earth, swift as the wind and unmatched in power.

his horse kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. A rising

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 trail of awe

aside, opening the way without hesitation. Oliver’s steed thundered through, the sound

were making their rounds, arriving just

shoulder, his back turned to Milton. The encounter lasted only a moment, fleeting as

in his horse, turning to watch Oliver disappear

now?” he asked

I couldn’t make out the man, but judging by the horse, it

favorites, he has no

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his own–is there no

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in his voice was unmistakable. As a fellow rising star in the military. Milton found Oliver insufferable. A boy barely past twenty, his rapid ascent could only be credited to the

clearly grooming him. Without that backing, no way he

famed Marshal, Douglas Valois, and his

His own lineage had always been his weakness. The most accomplished of his ancestors, a great–uncle, had risen no

secured a position at the city gates. Years of maneuvering and quiet scheming had eventually

manor, the guards stood vigilant. Oliver reined in