CHAPTER 379: THE KING WHO PAINTED THE HALLS RED

"Close your eyes," Edmund said as he carried Primrose down the blood-soaked hallway.

Just as Leofric had warned earlier, Sevrin truly had to think about the massive destruction this battle had caused.

From the walls to the floor, there wasn’t a single spot untouched by blood. Even though Primrose couldn’t see it, she could still smell the pungent metallic stench filling her nose.

Although Edmund had told her not to look, a part of her was so curious that she opened her eyes slightly, only to be greeted by the most horrendous scene she had ever witnessed.

She had seen soldiers cut down bandits before, watched her husband rip apart the tiger tribe in the forest, and she had even killed two people herself. But nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to the horror before her.

Lifeless bodies were scattered across the floor, yet none remained intact. Their intestines spilled out of their stomachs like slaughtered livestock.

Severed heads and limbs were strewn everywhere, while thick blood covered the ground so completely she couldn’t even find a clean spot to step on.

Even the ceiling was splattered with blood, making her wonder in disbelief ... how on earth had blood reached that high?!

Primrose gagged instinctively, nausea twisting her stomach at the gruesome sight, but she quickly covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself.

"I told you not to look." Edmund cupped the back of her head, pressing her face against his chest. Earlier, he had changed his clothes so they were no longer stained with blood, though traces still lingered on his hands and face.

Even so, his scent was far better than the reek of blood around them.

"It’ll take at least two weeks to clean all this up," Edmund murmured. "We’ll have to stay in the buildings behind the palace for now. I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful not to stain the palace like this."

[I’m sorry ...] His voice in his own mind was even softer than what he had said aloud. [I didn’t mean to frighten you.]

"I’m not afraid of you," Primrose whispered, looping her arms around his neck. "I only feel scared when I can’t see you." She added, almost like a complaint, "You don’t even let me see you through your ring."

Edmund stayed quiet for a moment before finally speaking. "I didn’t want to dirty your eyes with something so foul." He paused, his voice darkening. "And I didn’t want you to hear the disgusting words those rotten wolves spat out."

Primrose finally lifted her face, but her gaze stayed on her husband alone, not the nightmare that surrounded them.

"Did they speak badly about me?" she asked softly. "Like ... the way the Marquess of Moonshadow did?"

Edmund’s gaze softened as he gave a small nod. "Something like that," he admitted. Then his voice turned cold. "But don’t worry, I cut out their tongues."

His jaw tightened, irritation flashing across his face as Weston’s vile words about his wife replayed in his mind.

[Why can’t men keep their mouths shut about my wife? Can’t they just admire her beauty instead of dragging her down?] he thought bitterly. [If I could read minds too, I’d hunt down every bastard who dared to have filthy thoughts about her.]

[But what about her? She can read minds, so—]

Edmund stopped mid-thought, realizing it was better to ask her directly. "My wife ... do you often hear bad things about yourself?"

Primrose averted her eyes for a moment before replying softly, "Not that often here. Maybe one or two, but as long as they don’t touch me, then it’s fine."

After all, people’s thoughts were something no one could ever truly control. A person might seem kind, gentle, and never hurt anyone in real life, but that didn’t mean their mind was completely free of malicious thoughts.

As long as those dark thoughts stayed unspoken, as long as they never turned into actions, Primrose wouldn’t interfere.

But if someone’s mind was too vile—like Dr. Silas’s or the Marquess of Moonshadow’s or even his brother—that was different.

So far, she hadn’t come across anyone else with thoughts as rotten as theirs. Perhaps it was simply because she spent most of her days inside the palace, rarely meeting strangers from the outside world.

"They may not be able to control it, but it still disturbs you," Edmund said quietly, his voice carrying both anger and protectiveness. "I can’t punish people for crimes they’ve only thought of ... but at the very least, I can drive them away. I’ll make sure they never get close enough to trouble you."

"But I can only do that if you tell me about it," Edmund said, his gaze fixed on her. Then he asked softly, "Will you do that for me?"

Primrose hesitated, lowering her eyes. For a moment, she stayed silent, as though weighing the weight of his request. Then she finally whispered, "I don’t want to burden you with every little thing I hear."

"Don’t say that." Edmund’s arms tightened around her, pulling her close as though he could shield her from everything. "You’ll never be my burden. Not now, not ever. If something troubles you, then it matters to me. Please ... don’t keep it to yourself."

Her lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. "Alright," she whispered. "I’ll tell you."

"Good," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. "That’s good."

Primrose let her head sink against his chest again. The steady beat of his heart calmed her, and the drowsiness slowly crept in, softening her worries until they faded away. "Can I sleep? Just for a little while ... I’m sorry."

"It’s fine," Edmund said softly, brushing his chin lightly against her hair. "Sleep as much as you like. I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you."

Primrose could no longer resist the heaviness pulling down her eyelids, and at last, she drifted into sleep.

When she opened them again, she found herself in a bedroom she didn’t recognize. The room was nowhere near as large as their chamber in the palace, in fact, it wasn’t even half the size.

The bed beneath her also didn’t feel as soft or as comforting as the one she was used to.