The Amber Knight's Vow to the Saint's Left Hand - Chapter 2.2

“Lady Celies!”

The moment Quill raised his voice, he regretted it.

It was as if he had personally announced to the crowd that he was the saintess’s fiancé.

As expected, murmurs rippled through the gathered spectators.

In the royal capital, black hair and red eyes were an extreme rarity. If he so much as glanced their way, he would be met with a sea of curious gazes piercing into him.

Ignoring the stares, he strode straight toward Lynette and locked eyes with her icy blue gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

Lynette lifted the hem of her day dress slightly and gave a graceful curtsy. Then, she plastered on the very social smile Quill had told her he disliked.

Immediately, the crowd’s murmurs swelled into hushed excitement.

So, two years of being a saintess engrains such performance skills into one’s very being.

Quill observed her with cool detachment.

Lynette then closed the distance between them, lowering her voice as if whispering a secret.

“You ended our conversation so abruptly last night. I feared you might never return.”

“…I will return. Tonight. We can talk then.”

“Truly? Even though you were so angry last night that you wouldn’t even look at me this morning?”

There was a difference between lacking emotions and lacking the ability to perceive them.

Her sapphire eyes were empty, unfathomable. They made it seem as though she could see right through him. Quill averted his gaze.

“I will return. Last night, I struggled to grasp the distance between us, and for that, I apologize.”

At his apology, Lynette responded in an utterly nonchalant tone.

“That’s a lie. Do you really think I’m the kind of woman who would disrupt your work over something so trivial?”

“…A lie?”

The saintess—lying?

Caught off guard, Quill stared at his beautiful fiancée.

Lynette raised her left hand slightly, as if enjoying his reaction.

Realizing she had been teasing him, he felt his face heat up.

This was not the kind of flustered display he wanted to put on in front of an audience.

Sensing his discomfort, Lynette subtly adjusted her parasol, shielding him from view.

“You seem to have quite the mischievous streak.”

“Did I? I’m not sure anymore.”

Something in her voice dipped for just a moment.

Quill glanced up.

Perhaps because of the parasol’s shade, Lynette’s expression had faded into something unreadable.

“I hear there is to be a mock battle today. The White Knights sent word to the estate. The earl arranged a carriage for me, suggesting I attend as a spectator.”

“And yet, you came to the training grounds?”

“I wanted to ask if it was appropriate for me to watch. Would I be a distraction?”

“Well, that’s—”

It wouldn’t be a problem.

Just as Quill opened his mouth to answer, an unwanted voice interrupted.

“There you are, Saintess!”

“…Great.”

A less-than-noble groan escaped Quill’s lips.

The man who came striding toward them, brimming with delight, suddenly paused to greet the audience with a practiced bow.

A few admiring sighs rose from the crowd.

Marius Classen, Second Commander of the White Knights.

The very image of an Aikrant noble—platinum blond hair catching the light, deep green eyes sparkling with charm. The marquis’s eldest son.

Ignoring Quill entirely, Marius took Lynette’s right hand and placed a light kiss on it.

“I arrived at the gates to escort you, but it seems we just missed each other.”

“I have already fulfilled my duties as saintess. I cannot trouble you any further, Sir Classen.”

“Please, don’t say such lonely things. I still consider myself your guard.”

He made no effort to acknowledge Quill—his fiancée’s betrothed.

If anything, his sidelong glances felt like a deliberate provocation.

Marius Classen may as well be the embodiment of arrogance, boiled down and cast into human form.

Quill found himself too exasperated to even interject.

Standing behind Marius was Gies, looking utterly amused.

Of course. Gies was the one who had allowed Marius into the training grounds.

He often compared Marius to an overexcited puppy—no doubt, he was thoroughly enjoying the sight of that same “puppy” yapping away in indignation today.

“Well then, Saintess. Allow me to escort you to the arena.”

“I was just seeking my fiancé’s permission.”

“You don’t need his permission. Come, let’s go.”

“I cannot do that. I wouldn’t want to displease my betrothed.”

Lynette smiled, her lips curving with exquisite grace.

Marius’s elegant brows twitched slightly, and his voice dipped.

Did You Truly Choose This Man, of Your Own Will?

“That’s correct. I personally requested an engagement with Lord Quill Langbart. As proof, I have received a pledge token from him.”

Lynette raised her left wrist, the leather cord and blue stone swaying gently.

The moment Marius saw it, his hand shot out, grabbing Quill by the collar.

“You disgraceful scoundrel! How dare you bind the saintess with such a cheap trinket?”

So, it really had been too cheap after all.

His older brother, younger sister, Nicola—one by one, they had all looked at it with thinly veiled disappointment. And now, Marius delivered the final blow.

Quill committed his mistake to memory but swiftly wrenched Marius’s grip away with force.

“I have never deceived her. In fact, even I don’t understand why I was chosen!”

His firm declaration made Marius freeze, mouth slightly agape.

“You—Langbart! A mere red-eyed bastard of Betzirath, and yet you dare say such things after being chosen by the saintess?”

“Enough!”

Lynette’s voice, strong and resolute, cut through the air.

The atmosphere turned still.

She stepped beside Quill, looking straight up at Marius with unwavering eyes.

“Sir Classen. This engagement was my decision. I used my title as the saintess and sought the backing of Crown Princess Julianna to make it happen, even bending the rules to do so.”

For a brief moment, Marius was struck speechless. Then, as if snapping back to reality, his eyes widened.

“Saintess… Perhaps you are unaware, but Quill Langbart is not the earl’s trueborn son—”

“I know.”

“…What?”

Lynette’s hand slipped effortlessly around Quill’s arm.

“I know Lord Quill far better than you do. I can say that with certainty.”

Marius’s face contorted in fury.

“…Langbart. Prepare for the mock battle immediately. I will ensure the saintess sees you kneeling before me so she may finally come to her senses.”

Spinning on his heel, Marius stormed off toward the arena, his followers trailing behind like a moving tide.

Watching the spectacle retreat, Quill slumped slightly, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

He turned his gaze toward his fiancée, who remained unbothered, her expression as composed as ever.

“You didn’t have to provoke him. You should have let them say whatever they wanted about me.”

He had no idea on what basis she claimed to know him so well.

But if she was truly aware of his circumstances and still chose to be engaged to him, then he wished she would simply ignore the voices around them.

Everyone knew—Quill Langbart was not the earl’s real son.

He was born to a woman of Aikrant, a close acquaintance of the countess. His father’s identity was unknown. When his mother passed away, the countess insisted on taking him in.

Unfortunately, his unknown father had carried the bl00d of Betzirath.

And Quill had inherited it far too strongly.

His features were far too distinct to be concealed. Among the nobility, it had been common knowledge for years.

Then, Lynette’s right hand swiftly lifted.

She was pointing.

At what?

“You called him ‘Red-Eyed.’”

“…And?”

“Lord Quill’s eyes are amber.”

“…What exactly do you see when you look at these?”

Even Prince Leonard had said something similar when they first spoke.

This deep, dark red—so reminiscent of coagulated bl00d—how could she possibly call it amber?

“…They were amber, weren’t they?”

Her words made Quill stiffen.

Why?

His breath caught in his throat, the unspoken question lingering in the space between them.

But Lynette merely offered him her perfected social smile, giving no further answer.