A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 96 - 95

Chapter 96: Chapter 95

The sun was beating down on the training grounds, the heat making the air feel thick as I made my way through the bustling courtyard. The preparations for the tournament were in full swing, with workers hammering poles into the ground and hanging banners. The sound of swords clashing and shields banging echoed in the background as warriors trained relentlessly, sharpening their skills for the big day.

I was keeping busy, giving orders to anyone who needed direction. "Move those crates to the west wing," I said, pointing at a group of younger trainees struggling to haul supplies across the yard. They nodded quickly, scrambling to obey.

The tournament was going to be grand—my first real task assigned by my father—and I refused to let anything ruin it. I was determined to make it flawless.

My focus shifted as I noticed a group of male warriors standing near the edge of the grounds, their weapons momentarily forgotten as they huddled together in conversation. Normally, I wouldn’t have paid them any attention; idle chatter among warriors wasn’t my concern. But then I heard a name that made my ears perk up.

"Lylda," one of them said, his voice laced with mockery.

I froze mid-step, my eyes narrowing as I subtly moved closer to their group.

"The pretty Omega?" another man snorted. "Yeah, I thought he was female when I first saw him. Pretty bastard."

My grip on the edge of my cloak tightened, my knuckles going white.

"Can you even consider him male?" someone else added, laughing. "I bet he doesn’t even have a dick between his legs. Perhaps we should check and find out."

A ripple of laughter followed, crude and disgusting, as one of them bit his lip, clearly entertained by the idea.

I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they might crack as fury surged through me.

With a deep breath, I straightened my spine, forcing my expression into one of cold authority as I strode toward them. The laughter died as I approached, their heads turning in surprise.

"You," I pointing at the person who had made the disgusting comment. "I want to duel you."

He blinked, clearly taken aback. "Me?" he asked, glancing at his companions with a smirk.

"Yes, you," I said firmly.

"You’re challenging me, My lady?" he asked, his smirk growing wider. "Why?"

"Do you think it’s wise to question your superior?" I questioned, tilting my head. "Or are you afraid to face me?"

His pride got the better of him, and he stepped forward, drawing his sword. "Alright, princess. Let’s see what you’ve got."

By now, a small crowd had gathered, curious about the commotion. The other warriors stepped back, forming a loose circle around us.

I unsheathed my sword, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in my hand. The person in front of me was taller and broader, clearly confident in his strength.

He lunged first, his blade swinging toward me in a wide arc. I sidestepped easily, countering with a quick slash that forced him to retreat.

"Not bad," he grinned. "But you’ll have to do better than that, My lady."

He attacked again, this time with more precision. Our swords clashed, the metallic sound ringing out as I parried his strikes. He was fast, but I was faster. I danced around him, using my agility to keep him off balance.

But he wasn’t without skill. One of his strikes caught me off guard, the edge of his blade grazing my shoulder. Pain flared, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it. The crowd murmured, but I refused to let it distract me.

I pressed the attack, forcing him to backpedal as I rained blows down on him. Sweat dripped down my face, but I didn’t let up. My focus was razor-sharp.

Finally, I saw an opening. He overextended on a swing, leaving his side exposed. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped in, slamming the hilt of my sword into his ribs and sweeping his legs out from under him.

He hit the ground with a grunt, his sword clattering out of his hand. I pointed my blade at his throat, my chest heaving as I stared down at him.

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, but I barely heard them. My focus was entirely on the bastard beneath me.

I leaned in close, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "If you ever talk about Lylda like that again," I whispered, my tone ice-cold, "I will fucking kill you."

His eyes widened, and I pulled back, sheathing my sword.

The crowd began to disperse as I walked away, my shoulder throbbing from the cut I’d taken. But the pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction of putting that bastard in his place.

As I stormed out of the training grounds, I couldn’t help but wonder if word of this would reach my father. If it did, I would have to come up with a believable explanation. But for now, I didn’t care.

Fucking bastards.

The words rolled off my tongue like venom, my boots kicking up small puffs of dirt with every angry step. They had no right—no right—to speak about Lylda like that. The memory of their crude laughter still rang in my ears, making my fists clench at my sides.

But I had shown them. The sight of that bastard flat on his back, swordless and stunned, was enough to take the edge off my fury. For now.

I needed air—no, space. The suffocating atmosphere of the tournament grounds felt like it was closing in on me. The faint hum of workers still moving supplies and the occasional clink of swords echoed behind me as I headed toward the quieter parts of the estate.

And that’s when I saw him.

Lylda.

He was standing near the garden entrance, surrounded by a small group of maids. Their soft laughter floated through the air, mingling with the distant rustle of leaves. He was laughing, too, his smile wide and unguarded, his bright eyes crinkling at the corners.

Would you look at that, I thought bitterly, my teeth grinding together. I had just spent the last hour defending his honor—putting myself in harm’s way to protect him from those vile bastards—and here he was, flirting with a gaggle of females as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

I stopped in my tracks, folding my arms as I watched the scene unfold. One of the maids playfully swatted his arm, and he laughed even harder, the sound warm and genuine. Another leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and he nodded, his expression softening.

Was this what he did while I was out there bleeding for him?

I could feel my blood boiling again, the heat rising to my cheeks.

And then, as if sensing my presence, Lylda looked up.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to still. His laughter faded, replaced by a beaming smile that lit up his face. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment, the gesture respectful yet somehow intimate. His gaze lingered for a fraction longer than necessary before he turned back to the maids, his attention shifting back to their conversation.

My cheeks burned. I pressed a hand to my face, hoping to will away the blush, but it was no use.

Didn’t he notice I had been avoiding him?

I had kept my distance for days, purposely steering clear of him, yet he seemed completely unaffected—oblivious, even.

He can be so frustratingly unaware sometimes.

The thought brought an annoying smile to my lips