CHAPTER 486: MERCY IN THE CROWDS

When Arabella’s shoelaces came undone, she sighed softly and bent down, meaning to fix them herself. The training ground had fell silent, everyone waiting for the fight to commence only for her to raise her hand, telling them to pause for a moment as she noticed her undone shoes. She was halfway to looping the lace into a bow when a shadow fell across her hands.

Before she could straighten, Morpheus crouched down before her, his snowy white robe pooling elegantly around him as he knelt. His pale fingers brushed against her shoes, almost too gently, as he took the laces from her hands and began to tie them with careful precision.

The sight might have appeared gentle, even intimate, to all the sorcerers watching over, some even began to whistle. His head was slightly bowed, his touch tender, as though he were doing something meaningful.

But Arabella only watched him with cool, unblinking eyes. There was no gratitude in her expression, no warmth, just a quiet detachment. When he finished tying the laces into a perfect, symmetrical ribbon, he lifted his gaze to her, eager, almost waiting for something, a word, a glance, a sign that his small act had touched her.

But of course, none came.

Her lips curved faintly instead, a smile that was just kind, not out of gratefulness. That silence accompanied her refusal to play into his illusion of tenderness was sharper than any insult.

Because whatever Morpheus had done in the castle, no matter how small it was, she knew that the people in the castle would thank him fervently, making him high with the thought that he could do whatever he likes as he wishes and once he dropped down to mercy once, people will still revere his kindness.

But not her. Not when he had done anything truly worth to be thanked for.

It ticked something in him when he sees her lips never once parting to say what he was supposed to hear. His eyes narrowed, that faint crease forming between his brows, but he said nothing. She could feel the simmer beneath his composed exterior, the silent protest that lingered in the way his jaw tensed.

Arabella only smiled wider. So easily unsettled, she thought. Even now, he expected her gratitude as though she owed him for a meaningless gesture, as though tying her laces was an act of devotion worthy of praise.

But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

He wasn’t saving a damsel in distress. He was a man playing at chivalry, expecting admiration in return. And she... she would not play the part he wrote for her.

Straightening slowly, she took a single step back, creating deliberate distance between them. Her skirts brushed faintly against the sands as she moved.

"Now," she said quietly, her tone calm, "we need distance."

Morpheus looked up at her through his lashes, his gaze sharp, questioning. For a long moment, he didn’t move. The air between them seemed to tighten, charged with something unspoken. But finally, with a huff that sounded almost about to erupt in its frustration, he pushed himself upright again.

"Is this truly necessary?" He asked her, trying to read from her expression what she felt but she wasn’t about to allow him be satisfied with what he sees.

Her expression was one of ease, ambiguous for him to truly comprehend, "Distance? That is very necessary, we can’t possibly start this without a distance between each other. It would be unfair."

"I mean this entire test. I could hurt you accidentally."

"That’s fine, I can heal," Arabella shrugged easily, "Unless you truly feel scared of this sparring, you can simply reject the second test, however, if you do reject the second test, we might as well wrapped everything and think of this as over."

He turned slightly, regarding her with that controlled expression, one that barely concealed the storm underneath. "Do I have to finish all three of the tests, or once I have completed two, would you finally allow me to marry you?"

Arabella tilted her head, the corners of her mouth lifting faintly as she met his gaze. "You need to finish all three tests," she replied thoughtfully. "It’s my future, after all. It wouldn’t be fair if I simply allowed you to marry me, would it?"

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "And what if I fail one of them?" he asked slowly, each word measured like the slow tightening noose of a rope around her neck. "Would you truly be so cold hearted as to deny me, then?"

The way he said it was not a question but a threat, one that no one else could notice but Cassius.

He could hear the entire exchange from the distance and Isaac who had been asking what he heard, eventually ceased his question when he could see the maid’s expression that darkened by second. It soon made Isaac to gulp as he felt the maid was about to suddenly extend her hand to one of the sorcerers standing by, breaking its neck and then marching toward Arabella’s side.

Arabella, however, did not flinch. Her laughter was almost mocking as she eyed him like Morpheus was a fool, "Cold hearted isn’t the right word, Morpheus," she said, folding her arms as her eyes gleamed with knowing calm. "I would rather call it me being fair."

Her tone was soft, tenderly so, yet it carried a demand for control that needed no raising. And though he smiled in return, she saw the faint crack in his control, the smallest tremble over his gripped fists that showed how easy it was to bruise his honors.

"Then do not call me for being merciless if you cannot win," Morpheus’s jaw almost clenched even tighter as he eyed her, turning away after he was done with his words, as if that single sentence could somehow scare her into dropping the entire second test.

But he was wrong as she stood still, arms held around her waist without a change in expression, not even fear.

She then turned toward where she could see Cassius was and smiled.

Standing at the far edge of the training ground beside the other sorcerers, Cassius caught that smile; and for a fleeting, almost dizzying moment, it felt as if the sun itself had bent to him, glaring bright at his eyes.

The light spilled over her red hair like molten gold, setting her hair aglow and tracing the edges of her dress until she seemed almost otherworldly. Her smile was brighter than the brilliance behind her, so bright it hurt to look at, and yet, as always, he couldn’t look away.

He wouldn’t.

He felt his chest tighten, his throat burn. Careful, he thought wryly, almost laughing to himself as his red eyes narrowing against the sunlight. If she keeps smiling like that, I’ll go blind.

Then, he saw her lips part, no sound, just the motion of her mouth shaping two silent words.

Watch me.

The air seemed to still around him.

For a second, his composure cracked; something sharp and raw flickered in his gaze. And then, slowly, he smiled back, a smile full of quiet promise, full of that stubborn devotion that always burned in him when it came to her. It was a smile that said, he would always keep his eye on her, no matter what, even if the sun had turned so sharp that it would blind his sight for good.

From the corner of his eye, Cassius noticed Morpheus’s faint shift, the way his head turned slightly, suspicion grazing across his face. But of course, the man didn’t know who he was yet. Not yet. To him, Cassius was still Cassandra, a mere maid who had gotten far too close to Arabella than what he liked.

So Cassius only tilted his head, shrugging carelessly with a hint of mischief, as if to say what could possibly be worth noticing here? before folding his arms and turning back to the field.

Arabella’s attention followed his cue. She turned her gaze to the training ground, every trace of softness vanishing as focus took over her face, sharpening into a blade.

Her eyes moved carefully, studying Morpheus, watching how he flexed his hands under the long white sleeve of his robe. She knew those sleeves hid countless sigils and pre-written curses, etched into his skin and some perhaps kept under the robe.

Usually, activating such curses and sigils required a drop of blood, one’s own life essence to awaken the circle’s power. But Arabella had spent nights in quiet study, nights spent buried in the forbidden books that filled the castle’s hidden library. She had found something else, an idea so daring to flip the entire spar for good.

Now, she thought, flexing her hands slowly, this was the perfect time to test it.

"Are you ready, milady?" came the sweetest voice.

Arabella turned, and her smile turned small just slightly when she met Esme’s eyes. The woman stood opposite her, a faintly triumphant glimmer in her gaze ,the kind of gleam that belonged to someone who believed they had seen you fail.

Arabella’s brows drew together, faintly. Something about Esme’s expression, that wicked satisfaction, felt too familiar. The resemblance to someone she once knew was uncanny, enough to make a chill creep down her spine.

Still, Arabella kept her tone calm, even. "I am."

Esme’s smile deepened, confident. She thought this duel would humiliate Arabella, turn Morpheus’s favor sour.

But Arabella only let a small, knowing smile touch her lips. Their relationship could not be "soured" not when it had never been sweet to begin with.

No, she thought, looking back toward Cassius and catching the faintest glimpse of red eyes in the crowd.

This wasn’t about love.

This was about power. Their fight could never be about love. And she intended to win.