When Beauty Destroys The BL World

Chapter 89~Strike~

The temple fell into stunned silence the moment Lucas crossed its threshold, carrying the Crown Princess in his arms.

Whispers broke out instantly-startled gasps and wide eyes followed him. To the priests, it was unthinkable: the holy priest holding the very woman who had once tried to poison him. But Lucas didn't stop. He didn't even look at them.

He murmured something under his breath, too soft to hear, and strode straight past, his pace swift and unrelenting.

Without hesitation, he pushed into his private chamber and gently laid Irene down on his bed. Her body was battered and bruised, her dress torn and bloodstained. Her noble grace had been stripped away-now she looked like a broken soul lost in a storm.

Michael followed behind, his expression tight with worry.

"Call a physician," Lucas said quietly, but firmly.

Michael turned to the young priests hovering at the doorway, still frozen in disbelief.

"Now," Michael reminded, louder. "Go!"

It took him telling them twice before they snapped out of it. Flustered and pale, they scrambled to obey.

As the door shut behind them, Lucas moved silently to the basin. He took a cloth and dipped it into the cool water, then knelt beside the bed. With trembling hands, he began to wipe the blood from Irene's face, each gentle stroke heavy with guilt.

His chest ached.

This is my fault.

If only he had recognized her sooner... If only he hadn't let his grief blind him. His obsession with death, his wish to follow Irene into the grave when he believed she was gone-it had made him ignore the truth right in front of him. The woman he had condemned, the Crown Princess he'd coldly judged, was the very same person he had once loved.

And because of that failure... Irene had suffered. She had been driven to desperation, to a crime she might never have committed otherwise.

His breath shook. The cloth slipped slightly in his hand.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry..."

He knew words of apologetic he utter, mean nothing and couldn't compared to the amount of sufferance that Irene had gone through.

Two knight steps in, followed by the sound of armored footsteps. Their expressions grim.

"Your Holiness," one of them spoke, bowing slightly. "We've secured all those involved in harming the Crown Princess. They've been placed in the royal prison and will be held for trial."

Lucas looked toward them with sharp interest. "And the one who framed her?"

He still remembered the young physician who was also present at that time, aside from Irene and her handmaiden. Upon learning that he had testified to the Crown Prince, about the incident. Lucas knew then that man was the culprit.

The second knight nodded. "We've found him. The true culprit behind the poisoning. He confessed under pressure and has been imprisoned for interrogation. There's enough evidence to clear Her Highness's name."

Lucas stood slowly from Irene's side, his hands still damp from washing her wounds. He looked down at her, pale and unconscious, then turned his gaze to the knights.

Gone was the sorrow in his eyes-replaced by something harder. Steadier.

Determination.

Nickolai finally arrived at the palace with his battalion of soldiers trailing behind him. As he dismounted, a stable boy rushed over and took the reins of his horse. Dust and the weight of battle still clung to his cloak, but his stride remained sharp as he made his way toward the inner courtyard.