“He was in his mansion in the capital. He went out onto his bedroom balcony shortly after waking up. His valet was with him, in the room. He says he saw him lean out, as if to look at something, and had the bad luck to slip and fall. The valet ran but didn’t get there in time to help him.”

  Oh, Ronan is a genius. Did he raise him to fake an accidental death? If no one sees him up close, they won’t realize he’s a zombie since Ronan can raise them without wounds. They don’t smell either, and the only thing would be the eyes, glassy. Well, and talking. They can’t speak properly either.

  So I imagine he sent him home with orders to fake an accidental death the next morning, in front of witnesses and as soon as possible so they wouldn’t find it strange that he didn’t say a word.

  “The burial is today,” Karina continues telling us. “His son and wife are in the capital and prefer not to delay it. That’s why, in the end, the dueling arena will be open tomorrow after all.”

  Makes sense Damien would want the body buried as soon as possible. If what happened came to light, his church would be exposed and, considering worship of the gods is forbidden, it’s possible the king would have them executed. I don’t know. Obviously, I can’t ask Vincent about this. I still have to tell him about his brother, and so little time has passed between lunch and our friends’ visit that the opportunity hasn’t presented itself.

  And I haven’t forgotten I want to talk to Ronan, in person, about the cultists’ vassalage oath.

  “They didn’t say anything at lunch, but I imagine my parents found out and will go to the burial,” Vincent comments.

  “You...?”

  “No, I barely knew him.”

  And I imagine that, by etiquette, with the monarchs going, the deceased’s county house should already feel sufficiently honored.

  I nod.

  “How are the duel preparations going, Darius?” I ask him.

  “See if he’ll tell you something. He won’t say a word to me,” Karina states with a sulky pout.

  “Well, there’s nothing to prepare,” the redhead shrugs.

  I’d say, seeing how Karina is paying attention to him, the guy is more confident than usual. Like with his chest puffed out more.

  “What do you mean nothing? Your opponent, Count Whitmore, is famous both for fighting with that warhorse and for his mastery with the sword. Plus, his family has a stun spell that, even though he’s never been seen using it in duels, he surely must know.”

  “Karina, relax, it’s fine. I already told you I have an ace up my sleeve. I’m convinced the stun spell won’t be a problem.”

  “Darius,” Vincent intervenes, “a stun is the worst thing that can be thrown at a warrior. If you can’t move, you’re completely vulnerable.”

  At a warrior, at a mage... yeah, no matter how much I snowballed in LoL— even when I was several levels ahead—if a bunch of enemies with CC jumped me, I still ended up super dead. (I’d say it was because I was cursed in solo queue and almost always teamless, but that would just paint a giant target on my forehead as a stereotypical LoL player.)

  Since Darius just shrugs, Vincent keeps asking.

  “Do you have some amulet or piece of armor that protects you against stun or altered states?”

  “Amulet or piece of armor? No.”

  “See how it’s impossible?” Karina huffs.

  Vincent gets serious.

  “Darius, we’ve known each other for a short time but I’ve come to appreciate you. The count is dangerous. Along with Black Death, he was one of the dueling arena champions for a reason. Plus, neither of them exactly appreciated the life or safety of their opponent.”

  “Can’t some light mage cast some protection or something on you?” I ask, also worried.

  Dying is very easy. More so in combat. Just ask the assassin who tried to kill me.

  “It’s fine. Even if he stuns me, he has to keep attacking me to disqualify me. And that’s what I’m not going to let him do.”

  “Of course he’ll attack you if he has you unable to defend yourself,” Vincent tells him.

  Oh, I think I get it now. The giant scorpion Ronan let him ride. Undead have great resistance to altered states, to stun, and also diseases or mind control. And Ronan has it too, both from being my vassal and on his own. His creatures, as far as I know, get stronger when he does.

  Maybe he lent it to him for the combat?

  “Okay, I think I get it now.”

  “Then explain it to me,” Karina asks me.

  The girl acts completely normal around me. It’s as if the Vincent thing was just a temporary crush for her.

  “It was a duel you enter with a mount, right?”

  Darius rewards me with a crooked smile brimming with confidence.

  “So?” Karina asks.

  I look at Darius. Let him tell her. I think this girl wasn’t in the academy courtyard the day the redhead put on a show with the scorpion.

  “Ronan gave me a zombie mount. I’m counting on it to protect me.”

  Wait, he gave it to him? I didn’t know that.

  “Oh. And if Whitmore has the stun spell, casts it, and the scorpion isn’t able to resist it?”

  “It’ll resist. I don’t know a more capable necromancer than Ronan.”

  “Don’t be an airhead. You don’t know any other necromancers,” she scolds him.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Darius bursts out laughing.

  “Well, I haven’t heard of any who’s better than Ronan.”

  I mean, looking at it that way... To start with, even putting all the kingdoms together we don’t get that many necromancers and, besides, he’s the only acolyte of the dark god (I hope).

  The conversation eases, the tension lifting as we realize Darius isn’t in nearly as much danger as we feared. The two stay for dinner with us and the royal family. Before they leave, we say goodbye agreeing we’ll go see him at the duel the next morning. Once alone, Vincent walks me toward my room.

  “Can we stay a bit in the gardens? On that wooden bench near one of the bridges that crosses the decorative ponds. I thought it was very pretty. I’d like to enjoy it for a while as I chat with you.”

  “Of course. I also miss us being alone,” he says, looking at me tenderly.

  Awww, how cute! I feel myself melting.

  He offers me his arm, and I rest my hand on it, sliding it to intertwine our arms. Side by side, we start walking forward, together.

  “Yes, though it’s not just that. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Tell me,” he says as we walk toward the gardens.

  Obviously, being alone is a figure of speech. His valet and my maid follow us at a certain distance.

  “Better sitting down.”

  We walk in silence until we reach our destination. The area, with the ponds of water that now look dark due to the scarce lighting, emanates peace. The bench is surrounded by flowers. This little corner is as beautiful as I remembered it. The night, along with the dim and flickering light of the torches, even seems to improve it, adding a certain mystery not devoid of romance.

  Vincent, with a chivalrous gesture, motions for me to sit. I smile at him and comply. Immediately, he moves to sit beside me and intertwines the fingers of his right hand with mine.

  “Tell me, Bianca. You know you can talk to me about whatever you want.”

  Ugh, a wave of remorse hits me over the whole ‘I’m from another world’ thing… and also the future demon king part.

  “Well... the topic is a bit complicated.”

  “Don’t worry. I support you in whatever it is.”

  Yes, my prince charming is a sweetheart. Let’s see what he thinks when I tell him about his brother.

  “You see, it’s from the other day, at the ball.”

  “Is it about Sol? You know, if you want to add any punishment on top of what the rector already gave her, you just have to tell me.”

  “No, no, it’s fine as it is. It’s something else…”

  I meet his gaze. He meets mine. Unlike other times, he doesn’t brush a loose strand of hair away or caress my cheeks. His hand simply presses gently against mine, conveying his presence and support.

  “You see, your brother found me alone and practically ordered me to do something I refused.”

  At that, Vincent’s features tighten and his hand grips mine a little. Realizing it, he eases the pressure.

  “Sigfrig… so he actually said something to you?”

  “What?”

  I never imagined this conversation would go like this.

  “What do you mean if he said something?” I ask.

  “You know Berta, your maid, warned me. She told me that Sigfrig knew your worth, and that’s why he wanted to get engaged to you. I already told you I was sorry for going to talk to my mother without talking to you first. I wanted to avoid exactly this, my brother approaching you. I didn’t know I was too late. Forgive me.”

  And he told me at the first opportunity he had, while we were dancing. I, however, haven’t worked up the courage until now. I feel bad. Of the two of us, it’s clear who’s being more sincere in this relationship.

  “But why should I forgive you? You have nothing to do with what your brother decides.”

  “But I could have been more attentive, or faster. I thought I’d saved you from a bad experience, but it wasn’t like that. What did he say to you?”

  His features remain tense.

  “Basically… that I should feel honored because he was going to get engaged to me, and since he wouldn’t let me leave, I…”

  “Did he do something to you?”

  For a moment, I don’t recognize him. It’s as if that thought had erased all the kindness from his face and posture.

  “Uh… no. I defended myself and punched him.”

  “Well done!” He relaxes. “No one should ever abuse their power to make a woman do their will.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Yes, at myself, for not seeing it coming and not preventing it. Forgive me.”

  “No, I don’t have to forgive you for anything. But I’m in trouble. If he accuses me, I can be executed for treason.”

  Now yes, fire burns in his golden eyes.

  “No way,” he assures me vehemently. “You’re my fiancée. You’re also part of the royal family. And I didn’t see any mark from the punch.”

  “I healed him.”

  He bursts out laughing, relieved.

  “You’re a prodigy with all your magic, Bianca. I don’t love you for that, but for you. You know that, right?”

  For a moment, after his brother has tried to keep me as if I were a trophy, I see insecurity in his eyes. I silence it with a kiss.

  “Of course I do,” I whisper when our lips separate. “Like me with you. That you’re a prince means nothing to me.”

  “That’s wonderful,” he tells me just before getting lost in my mouth again.

  And, certainly, I get lost. Of time, of the dark waters of the nearby pond, of the flowers with closed petals... of anything that ties me to the place where we are. It’s just him and me, and the warmth of our bodies.

  Until I hear a not-at-all-discreet throat clearing.

  Oops, Berta. And while we’re at it, Vincent’s valet too. I turn to look at them. My maid has approached and is watching me with a slightly furrowed brow, as if telling me it’s not proper to kiss my fiancé. I gesture to her and she retreats a few meters again.

  Vincent is smiling. I imagine it’s because it’s better they interrupt us than not even having gotten close.

  “By the way, Bianca, I don’t like there being secrets between us. Thank you for telling me.”

  I sigh. How do I tell him I’m still keeping a couple more little secrets from him? (Nothing important—just two silly things.)

  “Thank you for being so understanding. It bothered me to tell you because he’s your brother, and I didn’t know how you’d react.”

  “By supporting you, of course. You’re the woman I love and want to spend my life with.”

  Oh no… we haven’t even known each other that long. Why is he telling me this?

  Well, I do melt, that’s for sure. But I also feel more guilty. He matters to me, a lot, and I don’t want to build a relationship on lies.

  But as a potential future demon king, I’m a threat to any human kingdom. The whole ‘coming from another world’ thing sounds so weird and crazy that maybe it can even be forgiven. But the ‘seed of darkness’ part… not so much. And while we’re at it, there’s also the fact that Ronan is my vassal and an acolyte of one of the gods we’re forbidden to worship.

  Come on, Bianca! I think ironically. Got the guts?

  “Vincent, there’s something else I want to tell you but I can’t.”

  He looks at me strangely, doesn’t say anything. He just listens. I bite my lip, undecided.

  “If I tell you, I could get you in trouble.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do. Plus, it’s complicated. I promise I’m trying to fix it and that, when I can, I’ll tell you.”

  “Alright. Thank you for telling me.”

  He’s serious and his pupils are fixed on mine. The nearest torch is set in the earth ground about three meters away and the night is dark, but my eyes have already adjusted to the darkness. I can make out his features and I’m moved by the faith with which he looks at me.

  He trusts me.

  He’s given me his heart and trusts me.

  Perfect, because I trust him too.

  “Vincent, I really want this to work between us.”

  “Of course it will. My parents agree, and the rest of the world—my brother included—has nothing to say about it.”

  I hug him. I can’t help it. The warmth in my chest makes me want to feel him even closer. I don’t think about kissing him, and neither does he. Even though it seemed like he wanted to when he confessed his love. Fortunately, our servants take pity on us and allow the hug.

  We stay like that, sitting in silence, for a long time. Our hearts beat in sync, as does our breathing. I’m so comfortable I could fall asleep. And, in a way, I think I do. I wake up at the door to my room, with my prince setting me down gently. He carried me in his arms. He kisses my hand in farewell and leaves me with Berta.

  “You’re such a killjoy,” I tell her once we’re inside and alone.

  I’m still half asleep. If normally I don’t have much of a filter, now even less.

  “Even servants gossip, miss. You should already know that. Even though you’re engaged, you must behave, even more so in public.”

  “Killjoy and boring.”

  “Have you set the wedding date yet, miss? I’m sure your mother would be delighted if it were soon, perhaps after your graduation from the academy.”

  I can’t help it. All the sleepiness leaves me at once. In this world girls marry young. That I’m not already is due to my time at the academy. So yes, in two and a half years I could be married.

  Ugh, so young! And that protest is shouted at the same time by both my Earth me, Elisa, and my me from this world, Bianca.

  A girl should be able to fight some war or battle for the salvation of the world before even considering getting married.

  I think, once again, that whoever brought me to this world got the wrong game.