"Who threw it?"
Killian's voice was not loud. That was exactly what made the entire village hall freeze.
Josselyn was still in his arms. Her breathing was uneven. Every inhale felt like it scraped against the wound on her back.
No one dared to answer. Only the wind slipped through the gaps in the wooden structure.
"Your Highness…"
A soldier stepped forward halfway.
"Let us—"
"No."
One short, firm word.
Josselyn heard the rumble in Killian's chest. Her eyes caught the movement of his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
He's not going to do that… is he? Panic surged through her. Her fingers immediately clutched his sleeve.
"Your Highness, don't…"
Her voice was weak. Barely audible.
Killian did not stop.
"Let go," he ordered, flat and cold.
Josselyn shook her head faintly, her breath ragged.
"If you do that…" she struggled to inhale, "everything I've done here… will be for nothing."
Killian finally turned his head. His eyes dropped to her.
"He hurt you." His voice pressed low.
Josselyn held his gaze, even as her vision began to blur.
Ah, this hurts so much, she complained inwardly.
Howarth, hearing her thoughts, immediately stepped forward.
"Your Highness, we should treat Josselyn first before the wound worsens."
Josselyn glanced at him and gave a faint smile, signaling him to wait. Her gaze swept across the surroundings.
Some villagers had begun to step back. A mother pulled her child behind her. Several men tightened their grip on tools in their hands, not to attack, but to brace themselves.
The soldiers behind Killian were on alert. Their hands slowly moved toward their sword hilts.
The siblings from the Kingdom of Edevan as well.
"Howarth," Sebastian muttered quietly, "this is going to get ugly."
Howarth said nothing. His gaze shifted between Killian and Josselyn, observing and waiting.
"Your Highness," Josselyn turned back to Killian, drawing a long breath despite the pain cutting through her, "we came here not to hurt anyone. We came for the needs of Valenroth's winter…"
She paused, watching the flicker of anger in Killian's eyes. Then she placed her palm against the Crown Prince's chest.
"…and for the Queen's recovery."
That sentence changed something in Killian's gaze. The sword he had begun to draw slid back into its sheath.
A faint smile touched Josselyn's lips. Thank goodness.
"I will ask one more time," Killian said. "Who threw it?"
Slow footsteps emerged from the crowd.
All eyes turned toward Rivan.
Josselyn exhaled quietly. She had already seen it, and she had not expected him to confess. She feared what Killian might do to him.
But she was curious.
What does Rivan really want? Why is he still the one opposing the palace's presence the most? Especially the Crown Prince.
Rivan stepped forward. Then another step.
"Let him speak, Your Highness," Josselyn said.
Killian clenched his jaw. He clearly did not want to comply, but hearing Josselyn's strained breathing forced him to swallow his anger.
Rivan's jaw tightened. His eyes trembled.
"I did."
He swallowed, unsure how to begin.
Village Head Halvern immediately paled. He rushed forward into the center, shouting at the young man.
"Rivan! What are you doing—"
"Enough!" Rivan cut him off.
His gaze never left Killian.
"I threw it."
Killian stared at him without expression. "Why?"
Just one word, yet the pressure behind it felt like a blade.
Rivan let out a hollow laugh.
"Why?" he repeated.
He stepped closer, though every step was clearly heavy.
"Because my mother can't sleep at night."
The atmosphere shifted.
"Every time she sees fire…" Rivan's voice began to shake, "she screams. Covers her ears. As if she's still hearing the cries from that night."
No one interrupted.
"She won't even step into the kitchen anymore," he continued, his breath growing heavier. "Even a small flame makes her tremble like a child."
Killian's expression did not change. But his fingers tightened slightly around the sword hilt.
"And you come here…" Rivan went on, his voice rising, "as if everything is over?"
"As if we should welcome you with respect?"
"As if this village was never burned by your people?"
Some villagers lowered their heads. Others nodded faintly.
Josselyn closed her eyes for a moment. Her chest felt heavier. There was guilt there.
So it was that bad…
Killian released Josselyn into Howarth's arms.
Then he stepped forward. Just one step.
But the air around them shifted. The soldiers tensed immediately.
"Your Highness…" Sebastian tried to stop him.
Killian ignored him. His sword slid halfway out again. The glint of metal made several villagers recoil.
Josselyn bit her lip. Then, with what little strength she had left, she pushed herself, trying to break free. Howarth held her back.
"What are you trying to do, Josselyn?" Howarth whispered sharply.
"I'm going to stop him," she replied shortly.
The sharp hiss of steel cut through the air as the blade was fully drawn. Its tip stopped just an inch from Rivan's neck. The cold metal already touched his skin.
A collective gasp broke from the villagers.
"No. I can't let this happen. Let me go."
Howarth loosened his grip, allowing Josselyn to move toward Killian.
Her steps nearly faltered.
"Enough!"
Her voice was not loud, but it was enough to melt the tension in the air.
Killian's hand did not move, but his eyes shifted.
Josselyn stood between them now, beside the drawn blade. If Killian moved even slightly, it could slice her neck.
"If blood is shed again today…" her voice was soft, yet clear, "then the King will be remembered as the cruelest ruler, for repeating a dark history."
No one moved.
Rivan looked between Josselyn and Killian. His body was frozen, unable even to swallow. His gaze was conflicted. Angry. But also uncertain.
Killian did not move at once. The tip of his sword remained at Rivan's neck. His jaw hardened, as if weighing whether those words were enough to stop him.
Then slowly, the blade lowered. The sound of metal sliding back into its sheath rang clearly in the silence.
Several villagers let out relieved breaths without realizing it.
But the aura around Killian did not fade. He stared coldly at Rivan.
"If she were not standing in front of me right now…" his voice was low, "you would already be dead."
Rivan's knees finally gave out. He collapsed, gasping, his eyes still fixed on Killian as if he could not believe he was still alive.
Josselyn exhaled slowly. Her strength was fading. With what remained, she stepped closer to Killian.
"Your Highness…" Her voice broke mid-sentence. Her breath hitched, and her hand unconsciously clutched her side.
Killian immediately turned to her. His arm caught her before she could fall.
"What now? You ask too much today. Treat your wound first."
His tone was still harsh. But something else had crept into it.
Josselyn looked toward Rivan. Then to the crowd. To the surrounding houses.
"One more thing… if not now…" her breath came in fragments, "it will never end."
Killian frowned, already about to protest.
Josselyn swallowed hard. The pain in her back spread further.
"Take me…" she paused, drawing in breath, "…to his house."
The crease in Killian's brow deepened.
"You choose them…"
his voice low,
"even after they hurt you?"