Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 309: The Cardils

"Sis?" Mira’s silken voice chimed in from beside Lara, falsely sweet, pulling Lara from her reverie.

"Sister, don’t you know who this is? You seemed in a daze and had not heard my introduction earlier." Mira stood beside the young man. "This is my friend Malcolm Cardil—the youngest son of Lord Julian Cardil. Surely you’ve heard of him?" she continued in a calculated voice that deepened the discomfort hanging in the air.

"Have you forgotten that I lost my memory?" Lara snapped, her voice tinged with frustration. "I can’t even conjure up a single face of Amelia, let alone remember all the other people I never had the chance to meet." Her words hung in the air, heavy with impatience.

Lara’s rebuttal left Mira speechless. She wanted to emphasize that Malcolm, her friend, was the son of the Lord of the Zen Warriors—the finest martial arts school in all of Northem, but the words were stuck in her throat.

The young man’s smirk faltered. He felt it then—the weight of her stare, the cold precision of it, as if she could see straight through him. A shiver crept down his spine, and though he fought to hold her gaze, his bravado crumbled under the frost of her composure.

Once again, Lara’s gaze shifted, as if by unseen threads, to the man standing behind Malcolm, and she took the opportunity to study him.

He was a figure of quiet authority. His gray hair glinted in the light of a thousand candles, his white robe pristine, his posture proud but serene. He carried himself with the same effortless discipline as her master... but there was a difference in their aura.

She could tell that Julian Cardil was hiding something beneath his calm facade.

The old man turned around, and their gazes met and locked for a few seconds. She did not pull back, nor did her gaze falter.

Mira and Malcolm felt uncomfortable when they noticed the two were having a staring contest. Mira stepped in front of Lara, blocking her line of sight.

"Sis, aren’t you scared of offending Lord Julian?" Mira whispered.

"And why should I be?" Lara asked, puzzled. freēwēbnovel.com

Malcolm, who was standing aside, felt irritated. The damned woman ignored him. It was all right if he was with the three other princes. But he was alone. Which women did not fawn over him?

He stepped closer, emboldened by Mira’s introduction. "Surely Lady Lara isn’t so shy? A single dance, to honor my father and the House of Cardil—what could it hurt? Or perhaps... you fear you’ll fall short of your reputation?"

The words were meant as a taunt, but to Lara, they sounded like the clanging of a distant bell—a warning. She measured him with a glance, noting the way he stood, the barely concealed eagerness in his stance, as though he hoped she would lose her temper, would stumble, would fail.

No, she thought. You’ll get nothing from me tonight.

Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles—polite, inscrutable. "If it is entertainment you seek, young man, I suggest you look to the minstrels. I believe that is their duty, not mine."

The murmur of the crowd grew louder, and Princess Ceres, standing just beyond the circle, watched with narrowed eyes, her fan flicking open and closed in sharp, deliberate motions.

Then, coming from different directions, Prince Alaric, General Odin, Gideon, and the twins approached the group.

Malcolm felt the oppression, and he turned pale. He opened his mouth, but before he could press the matter, another voice entered the fray—quiet, yet firm, with the weight of true authority behind it.

"That is enough, Malcolm."

The hall quieted as Lord Julian Cardil himself stepped forward. Up close, his presence was even more commanding. His silver hair framed a face lined by time and battle, his eyes steady and piercing. He studied Lara as one might study a rare blade—curious as to its temper, its strength, its hidden flaws.

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes when five men stood protectively beside Lara. The noble ladies who had entraped her earlier stepped aside without hesitation. They could hardly breathe from the pressure of having five powerful men standing close beside them.

"She is right. We are guests in this house, and it is not our place to demand amusement from fellow guests." His gaze softened, just slightly, as it met Lara’s. "Forgive my son’s impudence, Lady Lara. Youth often mistakes boldness for honor."

The tension in the room ebbed, though not entirely. Lara inclined her head, graceful as ever. "Apology accepted, Lord Cardil," she said, her voice calm but silently assessing the gray-haired man before him. When she returned to Calma, she would tell her master that his white hair looked better compared to that of Julian Cardil.

Julian Cardil gave a small nod, then his gaze flicked to General Odin and then to Prince Alaric before he turned away, and with him, the moment passed. The circle of nobles began to disperse, disappointment mingling with the thrill of intrigue. The storm had been averted—for now.

"Are you alright, Lara?" Five voices asked in a gentle tone at the same time.

Mira clenched her fists so tight that her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm.

"I am fine," Lara said with a reddened face. She wanted to face palm, but restrained herself. "Please go back to do your business. I don’t want to attract any more attention."

She took a slow breath, willing her heartbeat to steady, though the weight of too many gazes still pressed upon her. The noblewomen drifted back to their gossip, the young lords to their wine, and the older ones to their conversations.

Prince Alaric led her to the corner and handed her a plate of pastries and a glass of wine.

"Were you the one who did that to Reuben earlier?" He asked in a hushed tone.

Lara ate her pastries and sipped the wine. Her face was a picture of innocence. Her eyes, steady and serious, searched his face. "You shouldn’t be here. Not like this. You’re drawing attention."

"You did not answer my question, so I could only assume it was you. Well done on that one. You made him suffer."

Before she could answer, Princess Ceres’s honeyed and false voice rose above the music. "How charming! The exiled prince and the mysterious lady are deep in conversation. How very intimate!"

Prince Alaric glared at her. The intensity of his gaze almost made her stumble.