Saved By The Mad Duke
Chapter 117: The Only Mercy

Chapter 117: The Only Mercy

Gradually, the mage’s room started lighting up again, though the light was still dim and reluctant as if scared to be in the presence of the summoned spirit.

As the hesitant touch of the afternoon light tried to make its way towards the center of the room, the witch’s silhouette began to shape into a discernable form, revealing her mysteriously enchanting appearance.

Amidst the dimly lit walls, the fire witch stood as a mesmerizing enigma. Her long, fiery red locks cascaded in untamed curls, a vibrant contrast against her pale skin, like flames dancing upon the snow. Bright orange eyes, gleaming with an inner inferno, pierced through the shadows with an intensity that seemed to ignite the very air around her. Light freckles adorned her face like stardust sprinkled by the night sky, adding a touch of ethereal charm to her otherwise striking appearance.

Dressed in a long black dress, its fabric adorned with intricate flowery embroidery, she exuded an aura of both elegance and power. As she stood within the runic circle, bathed in the flickering light of ancient symbols, she emanated a presence both alluring and formidable, a living embodiment of the untamed forces she commanded.

Ylva’s face bore a look of bewilderment and frustration. Her big orange eyes nervously scanned her surroundings as if looking for a clue of familiarity but with each passing moment, the downward curl of her lips suggested utmost disappointment.

She was still not ready to speak and everyone else around her dared not to speak as well.

At last, her burning gaze focused on Yuraon, whose hand was tightly wrapped in the blood-soaked sleeve of his loose shirt. The witch froze on the spot, her eyes wide and her face marred with a distinct shadow of distress.

The young King, too, arched his black eyebrows, unsure why his presence evoked such a strong change on the woman’s face. The witch then finally regained composure, narrowed her eyes, and almost hissed,

"You... How dare you... How dare you seek me, jolting me back to this wretched world that still carries your presence?!"

Ylva’s eyes swelled up with the sparkling beads of tears, her fists clutching the sides of her skirt. The walls of Ahspid’s bedroom were instantly covered in dozens of tiny orange dots as the witch’s hair began to flicker with the tiny orange sparks of fire. And although everyone present in the room knew that she possessed no real power to harm them, they still could not help but feel that the very air they breathed was becoming dangerously hot.

Still fuming with palpable rage, Ylva turned to face Bjarna, who was as pale as a sheet, breathing heavily on the floor, almost devoid of her powers, and said in a loud, angry voice,

"You should have known better than summon a witch with a grudge this deep!" She then turned back to Yuraon, noticing his bleeding hand, and continued, "You should have cut him open and made him bleed instead! I won’t talk. You have wasted your time and powers this time."

"Please, reconsider!"

Scared to lose this opportunity, Aideen finally took a step towards the witch but did not step further, still somewhat scared to approach her as the woman’s aura was just as hot and ominous as the curse emanating from Yuraon’s tattoos.

Startled by the princess’s sudden exclamation, Ylva paused too, turned around, and sized her with a long, careful stare. Then, she, too, took a step towards the lady, her eyes firmly fixed on hers, and said, now in a more reserved tone,

"I see. You can afford to be brave, Snow Queen. Is this why you summoned me? Because you think you can lift the curse with your powers?"

Aideen arched her eyebrows and asked,

"... What?"

Ignoring her question, Ylva moved her gaze down to the princess’s hands, pausing at her left ring finger adorned with the beautiful and unique dragon tear gem shaped like a snowflake. The sight of her ring brought an ironic smirk to her beautiful face.

"Is he your husband then? How ironic... How unfair... Your hair is almost like mine but he said he hated red hair the most..."

The witch then turned to Yuraon and said,

"Time sure is forgiving, but the witch’s grudge still has no end. Even if you are a hundred times better than your ancestor, you will have to die. That is the price you have to pay for his betrayal." Shifting her eyes back to Aideen, she added, "What a shame... Such beauty, such power... Will have to die with him."

Widening her eyes in realization, the princess mustered the courage to take another step closer, and retorted,

"I am not his wife! I am married but my husband is not here! His Majesty is still not married! We are doing this because he is our friend!"

For a moment, Ylva’s face seemed to have lost its confidence as she was overcome with a sense of confusion. Then, she released a long sigh, addressing the young King once again,

"Well, then... The only mercy I can show you right now is to advise you not to marry someone as great as the Snow Queen. Do not rid the world of talents, young King."

Her words provoked a surprising reaction from the young man. As the witch turned around to go back to the blood-smeared runic circle, he, too, took a large step forward, stopping her with his loud reply,

"How can you say something as cruel as this?! It is horrible enough to let others pay for what King Finnur did to you but how can you let an innocent person die? Just because they had to become the king’s betrothed?!"

There was a brief moment of silence that filled the mage’s bedroom one more time and yet, it seemed like it stretched for eternity.

Ylva closed her eyes, clenching her fists as she attempted to compose herself from the boiling rage within her. Then, she slowly turned around, her eyes now narrowed and glaring at Yuraon with the passion that could have burned him to ashes if her powers were still with her.

"They had to?!"