Amber Sword

Chapter 1187: Chapter 298: Maelstrom II_2

Lightning pierced through the rainy night in an instant, fiery branches of electricity hanging upside down across the distant sky—

The Half-Elf Princess’s eyes flew open.

Brand’s kiss, once started, became completely uncontrollable. He felt as if a door had opened inside his heart, and the emotions contained within surged out like a raging river—deep, overwhelming, the most genuine and honest feelings that knew no lies. He had thought he only held respect for her ideals, but finally understood that in that respect there was also the affection between a man and a woman. He came here only to obtain her, to make sure she lived on, to keep her from repeating the tragedy that had happened in another history.

The figure he had looked up to again and again was now in his arms, her soft body as light as a feather, weightless.

So real, yet so unreal.

He couldn’t help but release Griffith’s wrist with one hand and wrap his arm around the girl’s willow-slim waist, pulling her tightly against him as if afraid she would vanish once more; he carefully savored the Princess’s soft lips, then pushed his luck, pressing the attack and prying gently at the Half-Elf Girl’s teeth.

But just at that moment—

"Pa—"

Griffith’s face was full of shame and anger, the blush spread all the way down to the base of her neck. She bit her lower lip and glared furiously at Brand—as if this sudden everything in that instant had jolted her fully awake. She even forgot her current situation; her head was crammed with only one thought.

Audacious, outrageous, deserving of death!

"You—" Frost instantly spread across the Princess’s pretty face as she reached for her Sword by reflex, only to grab at empty air before realizing her Sword had already been thrown away and was currently stuck in the oil painting behind this scoundrel’s back.

"You’ve gone too far, Mr. Brand... I—I trusted you so much, and I never thought you’d be this kind of person!"

"I’m sorry," Brand’s brain had also short-circuited a little. Not even in his dreams had he imagined he would be so impulsive, to actually do something like this. It had all felt so natural—could it be this was what he had always wanted deep in his subconscious?

He hurriedly shook his head, trying to throw out this absurd thought, yet faintly he also felt a touch of anticipation. He had inherited Brand’s feelings and doted deeply on every bit of Miss Romantic’s willfulness and unreasonable behavior, but the other half of him was Sophie. In that half of his heart, perhaps this National Guardian Princess and his Senior Sister occupied an even more important place.

The Princess let out a gentle breath, as if she had calmed down. She closed her eyes, trying to turn back into that composed and unruffled Princess: "How did you get through the Holy Temple’s lockdown? And what were the Guards outside doing to actually let you... I see. Frey let you in, didn’t she?"

Her lashes lowered, her tone extremely cool, and the respectful "Mr. Brand" had become a distant, unfamiliar "you." That made Brand faintly sense that things were taking a bad turn.

"I did meet Frey, but it has nothing to do with her." He patted his Cloak. With this Cloak, slipping through the Holy Temple’s blockade in a rainy night wasn’t that difficult. It was only when he entered the manor that he ran into a bit of trouble, but luckily he bumped into Frey’s Patrol team.

"I won’t take my anger out on anyone. Frey is Duke Everton’s daughter; she has qualities we don’t. Besides... everyone has their own desires. This so‑called Princess now is probably nothing but a joke..."

The Half-Elf Girl gave a small smile, a little bitter. She sat alone, leaning against the half‑man‑high chair back, like the girl listening to Ou Fuwei’er tell stories under the warm sun that day—except now her silver hair was hanging down in wet strands, making her look indescribably pitiful and forlorn.

"Your Highness—"

"Mr. Brand," Griffith suddenly cut him off. She lifted her head, a strange, enchanting allure flashing in those silver eyes: "...Do you want to have me?"

Brand couldn’t help but suck in a breath of cold air.

He suddenly realized he couldn’t outright refuse such a proposal—his heart actually stirred. He knew exactly what this Princess meant, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to turn her down. She was Erune’s future elder princess, the dream of countless people. He only had to open his mouth, and he could possess her.

The brightest Bright Pearl atop Erune’s crown.

Brand shook his head.

"I can’t deny it, Your Highness, your beauty is already carved into my heart. But not now, and not like this. The Princess in my heart is the elder princess of Erune who dared to denounce everyone in the nobles’ assembly. Only with that strength does she deserve to carry Erune’s hope."

Brand weighed his words, then answered slowly, one word at a time.

Princess Griffith’s expression turned complicated. "Then what do you want me to do?" Her tone instantly returned to that earlier coolness. Brand knew she still minded his recklessness, and in truth he was also bitterly regretting it now.

But even if he could do it over, he would still choose the same. Though he felt somewhat guilty toward this future Regent Princess of Erune, in that instant he had clearly touched something he had been deliberately avoiding.

His true heart, and the real reason he came to this World. That purpose was now slowly coming into focus.

Brand was just about to speak when suddenly footsteps sounded in the corridor outside—two people. Princess Griffith’s face changed color. If someone saw her and Brand alone together in a room at this time, her reputation as a Princess of Erune would be utterly ruined.

The Princess couldn’t help but shoot Brand a hateful glare. She hadn’t even settled the matter of the Earth Sword with him yet, and now there was more trouble. But when she turned back, her gaze collided directly with Brand’s.

Griffith’s face flushed again. "Hurry up and hide!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Hide where?" Brand was also dumbfounded. He had clearly gotten word from Frey earlier that the Royalist’s people had all gone over to Prince Haruz—how had they come back in just a few minutes?

"The wardrobe!"

The Princess pointed to the wardrobe at the side. By now the footsteps were getting closer and closer. Only then did she suddenly realize her hair was still a mess; she hastily gathered it up with her hands, but her fingers moved by reflex to press against her lips.

She lifted her head and glanced at Brand; he was just slipping into her wardrobe. Princess Griffith couldn’t help but snap viciously, "Brand, this time you have to help me. This is the advance payment from a Princess of a kingdom."

"Payment?"

Brand almost stumbled headfirst into the wardrobe. He suddenly felt the whole situation had turned bizarre.

...(To be continued. If you like this work, you’re welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast a recommendation ticket or Monthly Ticket. Your support is my greatest motivation.)