His Duchess is a Ghost

12

Elkhart started to say more, but just shook his head when Valthorn kept going. "I just can't wrap my head around it. A princess biting the duke and him just... letting it happen. Really, how could she be bold enough to bite the duke? And why isn't he even trying to hide it?"

"Please don't waste any more of your measly remaining brain cells thinking about that. You will never understand unless you get laid."

"What the hell does that have to do with getting laid?!"

"You and your thick skull..." Elkhart groaned. "I swear. Tonight, I'm finding you a woman. We've got to knock some sense into that head of yours, or it'll drive me nuts."

"Good luck with that," Valthorn said. "They all run the other way. So how about you just fill me in instead?"

"Enough! Let's just go," Elkhart said, fed up.

"Just tell me, and I'll stop asking," Valthorn insisted.

Alena stopped following them closely, as she was unable to make herself listen to their conversation anymore. She couldn't help but want to face palm because, good lord... To think that these two formidable generals were actually talking about such stuff was just... why can't they just talk about serious matters? And really? General Valthorn was still a virgin?! That news would certainly send ripples of disbelief through the ranks of Claveria's soldiers, all of whom idolized his martial prowess.

With a shake of her head, Alena dismissed the trivialities of their conversation. And when the gates opened and the generals spurred their mounts forward, Alena floated after them, hoping that they could lead her to the duke's whereabouts.

But before they could even go far beyond the gates, Alena found herself suddenly unable to move forward. It was as if there was barrier unseen yet as formidable as the castle walls, right before her.

Alena attempted to drift elsewhere, but she was met with the same inexplicable resistance, each direction proved futile.

And then, a realization struck her as she finally realized where she was. She was at the very spot where she had been assassinated!

Rooted to the spot, her eyes swept across the familiar scene—the winding road, the trees, the palace's silhouette. And with each detail that she absorbed, her conviction solidified—this was, without a doubt, the place where she had died.

But the very spot where she remembered her carriage had stopped was empty. Slowly, she approached and stood there, her eyes darting, desperate for a shred of evidence.

Disbelief and denial slowly took hold of her as she couldn't find any trace of the incident, no carriage, no sign of a struggle, no blood. Nothing at all.

This didn't make sense. Was she actually dead? Had that terrible moment even happened?

Doubt began its insidious crawl through her thoughts and something in her started to feel a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe she was not dead. Maybe, what happened here never happened at all! Maybe, all of this – the fear, the death – was just a very bad dream. Maybe none of it was real!

But Alena couldn't leave it at that. She had to know for sure so she stayed in that spot. She continued floating around, trying to find something, anything. And the more she looked, the more hope bloomed within her. That she was not dead.

She had tried to go further and return to the grand palace, to her home, thinking that once she was there, she would wake up from the nightmare. But the invisible barrier, or whatever it was, remained, stopping her advance. Until the sun began to rise.

While she was sitting under the tree, something shiny on the ground caught her eye. It was partly hidden by the long grass at the side of the road, shining because of the morning sun.

Curious, Alena moved toward it, and the moment she saw what it was, her entire body froze once again. There in the grass lay her hair ornament, the beautiful rose made of white gold she had been wearing when she was killed, now spotted with dried blood.

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