The Villain's Dead Wife

27. The Shattered Garden

I slowly opened my eyes, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding around me. The blinding light had dimmed, and as my vision cleared, I saw a figure standing nearby—a man clad in a white robe. The pure, ethereal quality of his attire contrasted sharply with the charred remains of the garden.

As I focused on him, recognition hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Prince Ancillin Emrys Ashbourne.

His presence was almost otherworldly, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just erupted. His eyes, intense and clear, surveyed the devastation with a cold, analytical gaze.

“What the hell? A suicide?” he murmured, his voice carrying a tone of disbelief and irritation. His words seemed to cut through the lingering haze of smoke and fear.

I looked around, trying to piece together the fragments of the scene. The remnants of the explosion—smoke, embers, and debris—seemed to swirl around us, yet they did not touch us. It was as if an invisible shield was holding them at bay, a protective barrier that kept the worst of the blast's aftermath from reaching us.

I turned to look at Kael, Fenric, and Lisa, but the smoke obscured my view. I could only make out vague shapes and shadows through the thick, swirling haze. My heart pounded as I tried to find any sign of them, any indication that they were safe.

I sat up gingerly, wincing as every movement sent jolts of pain through my limbs. My skin felt scorched and tender, and I could see the angry redness that marked the aftermath of the blast. I blinked away the spots from my vision, trying to focus on the figure before me.

Ancillin’s gaze was fixed on me, his face a mask of concern as he stepped closer. “Lady Meredia, are you alright? Do you need healing?”

I shook my head, still dazed and struggling to process his presence. “I’m... I’m not sure. Everything hurts.”

“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “Everyone is safe. Your knights managed to use shield magic to protect themselves, and... your lady-in-waiting is also unharmed.”

His brow furrowed as he peered through the lingering smoke, his concern palpable. He reached out, as though touching the air itself, and I felt a strange, calming energy envelop the space around us.

“Stay inside the shield,” he instructed in a low murmur. “I’ll check on the others.”

As he stepped away, I watched in awe as Ancillin walked towards the others, the remnants of the explosion bouncing harmlessly away from him. His movements were fluid and effortless, as if the very forces of nature were bending to his will.

Is this the power of the High Lunarch? Unbelievable.

I tried to get to my feet, but the pain was too intense. I looked around as Fenric, Kael, and Lisa emerged from the smoke, their expressions a mix of relief and worry. They were battered, but they appeared unharmed.

Lisa rushed to my side, her face pale but her eyes determined. “Lady, are you okay? We thought—”

“I’m fine,” I interrupted, though my voice trembled. “Just a bit banged up. What about you three?”

“We’re alright,” Kael said, his voice strained but steady. “Thanks to the prince. He saved us from the worst of it.”

Fenric nodded in agreement.

As Ancillin returned to us, his face still unreadable but his presence radiating a calm authority, I felt a mix of gratitude and awe. His power was beyond anything I had ever imagined, and it had made the difference between life and death for all of us.

“Thank you, Prince Ancillin,” I said, my voice filled with sincerity. “You saved us.”

He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment. “It was necessary. The garden is a loss, but your lives are not.”

As Ancillin moved through the charred remains of the garden, his presence commanding respect, Lisa's eyes remained fixed on him, reflecting concern and affection. If the situation weren’t so dire, I would have found the sight of her wide-eyed wonder quite endearing.

Oh, my body aches!

Fenric, looking downcast and burdened, settled in front of me. “We’re sorry, Lady. Our shield’s range wasn’t large enough, and if we had extended it, it might have included the man too.”

Kael’s voice quivered as tears streamed down his face. “Lady, we’re sorry. You could have died if High Lunarch hadn’t intervened.”

I managed a weary smile, despite the pain. “It’s okay. You both did your best. It’s not your fault.”

Seeing Kael's distress, Lisa’s own tears flowed freely. “Lady, I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

Her words broke my heart. I reached out with open arms, trying to offer comfort to all of them. “Come here. You’re all hurt too.”

Kael was the first to embrace me, his hug warm and reassuring. “There, there... It’s okay. We survived,” I murmured, trying to soothe them as well as myself.

Lisa joined the hug, her tears soaking into my gown. “I just can’t believe this happened,” she sobbed softly.

Fenric wrapped his strong arms around us, adding his comforting presence to the mix. “Yes, we’re safe now,” he said, his voice steady and warm.

We stood there together, a tight-knit group huddled in a comforting embrace. The weight of the moment seemed to lift slightly as we found solace in each other’s presence, surrounded by the devastation of the garden but united in our relief and gratitude.

Sometimes, it’s the simple gestures of comfort that make the biggest difference.

----------------

Ancillin had arranged for us to be transported to the palace under a new shield barrier, ensuring our safety. The palace, still reeling from the shock of the explosion, had clamped down on security, prohibiting me from leaving for a few days as a precaution.

Fenric and Kael had faced serious repercussions. They were nearly dismissed from their positions, but a letter from the High Lunarch, brimming with praise, had saved their jobs. The relief was palpable, and I couldn’t help but think that Lisa’s influence might have played a part in that.

The investigation into the incident was underway, with officers scheduled to visit Oberon Keep in a few days to conduct a thorough inquiry. The man's body had been reduced to fragments, a grim testament to the force of the explosion.

As I lay in my palace quarters, my mind raced back to the explosion. I had heard Ancillin’s voice during the chaos, filled with urgency and determination. The thought kept gnawing at me—Was it a suicide? A self-detonation? To turn one’s own body into a weapon…

The sheer horror of it, the idea of someone willingly using their own life as a bomb, was almost beyond comprehension. The man’s final act had been as destructive as it was tragic, leaving behind a scene of devastation and fear.

What kind of despair drives someone to such extremes? I wondered. The answers seemed elusive, shrouded in the smoke and flames of that fateful day.