The Hidden King's Stolen Wife-Chapter 241: Ropes of Blood II

Crimson blood blasted from behind her, meeting Ricard’s blood ropes in mid-air. Splashes of blood fell free from the collision, splattering onto the pavement and walls around them.

Soleia winced, closing her eyes as a few droplets landed onto her skirt, staining the fabric a deep red. A man stood in front of her protectively, his armor all but destroyed and blood soaking into his clothing as though he had just returned from a gory war front. Instantly, a shuddery breath left her lips as her eyes watered.

"It’s not nice to think about bedding your own sister-in-law, dear brother," Rafael said, his voice filled with rage even though his words were mocking. "Immoral, even."

Ricard’s laughter echoed into the night. "Since when have you cared about morals, Rafael?"

"Well," Rafael said with a shrug, "I suppose you can be occasionally right. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

Without giving Ricard the chance to respond, Rafael swung his hands. A wave of blood sliced through the air along with his movements, bringing the familiar coppery scent with it as it rushed straight for Ricard. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

The latter jumped out of the way, groaning as the blood that Rafael controlled blasted against the stone tiles on the ground, sending some looser pieces into the air with a cloud of dust.

"You’ve always had raw talent," Ricard said with a cold laugh. His eyes, however, held only contempt and even a tinge of jealousy. "That was the only reason Father brought you back to the palace despite the heaps and piles of bastard sons and daughters he left roaming around the world."

"Should I thank him for that?" Rafael sarcastically shot back.

"Of course not," Ricard said. This time, the chuckle that bubbled from his chest was filled with a lot more joy than before. "In fact, you should resent him. Those years you spent roaming around the streets as a rat from the slums have resulted in the difference between our skills."

Rafael’s blood whip transformed into a sharp blade, and Ricard morphed his at the same time. They met in the middle, clashing as sparks flew as though steel had met steel. Beads of perspiration formed across Rafael’s forehead.

"This is where our difference is," Ricard said with a delighted laugh as he forced his blood weapon against Rafael’s, pushing the latter back a fraction of an inch at a time. "You may have more raw talent, but you lack in training, Brother!"

Rafael gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he pushed more and more magic to his fingertips. It gained him no advantage― if anything, he was starting to feel exhaustion ebb into his bloodstream. After all, he had fought off waves upon waves of Ricard’s men. As soon as Orion had appeared to replace him, he had rushed here with no time spared for rest.

How could he rest when Soleia’s life was in danger?

He hated to admit it, but Ricard was right. As a royal prince, Ricard and Raziel had all the training money could offer. They were brought up in the palace, trained to become heirs to the throne, Ricard more so than any other prince of Raxuvia. Rafael, on the other hand, was born later than them, and was brought into the palace only in his adolescent years.

In a long-term combat, their differences would start to show. Rafael had raw talent, but Ricard’s training far superseded this talent of his.

"I wonder," Ricard said with a cruel smirk. "How long can you keep this up, Brother? Perhaps I would keep you just alive enough to watch your lover claimed by me. How wonderful would it be to see the look of despair on your face!"

His statement was fuel for Rafael. Energy burst through his veins as he powered through, successfully pushing Ricard’s blade back. Ricard took a step away to steady himself, but he had not lost his balance. If anything, the smile on his face grew.

Without wasting a breath, he brought his weapon down again, relentlessly landing blow after blow as Rafael was forced to defend himself by parrying. He hadn’t the time to create another offensive source, not when Ricard kept him distracted by occasionally aiming for Soleia.

"I must admit, you amaze me," Ricard said with a snarl. "You’ve somehow emerged from that pile of bodies and survived long enough to find us. Too bad this is where you will rot for all eternity!"

Before Rafael’s very eyes, Ricard’s blood sword split into two. They curved like snakes, one landing directly on Rafael’s ready weapon, while the other curved behind to reach for Soleia.

Soleia’s eyes widened, her hands raised in an attempt to block, but tiredness had long seeped into her limbs. Her movements were just a little too slow, and Rafael could only throw his body back in alarm, wholly preparing to use himself to shield her.

Ricard’s weapon ran straight through Rafael’s stomach, impaling him as blood spurted from his lips. He stood still, clutching onto the blood-made weapon to prevent it from driving itself any deeper into his stomach.

As Soleia scrambled up to nullify Ricard’s magic, the latter pulled away before she could touch it. Without Ricard’s blood to keep Rafael up, he stumbled, falling back into Soleia’s waiting arms.

"Rafael!" she yelled as they collapsed to the floor. Soleia tried to cushion their fall as best as she could, but with her injured legs, she wasn’t sure how much of a difference she made.

She reached for his carnelian pendant, her hands wrapped around it as she tried to channel Raziel’s healing magic. However, she wasn’t sure if it was because the original user was dead or if it was because she had used it all up on Orion when they were still on the ship, there was no magic that tingled at her fingertips.

Rafael, on the other hand, placed his hand on his stomach. His own healing magic worked, but it was slow. It barely managed to stop the bleeding, and even so, the healing seemed rather superficial. The fight had taken its toll on his body, and slowly but surely, he felt his body turn weaker and weaker.

"No..." Soleia cried out. "Please... You have to heal yourself..." she sobbed.

Soleia had never felt as useless as right now. So many had died because of her, and yet, she could do nothing but watch the man she loved — no matter how much she tried to deny it — slowly die in her arms.

"How touching," Ricard said with a scoff. "Should I offer you a chance to say goodbye?" he mocked. "Out with the old, in with the new, right? There wouldn’t be a future for us if your ex-husband keeps on pestering us. Oh, and don’t worry. I will get rid of your other ex-husband as well, once we’re done with this one."

"Princess..." Rafael muttered. His voice was weak, and his vision grew a little blurry. He felt awfully tired all of a sudden, and all fight had left his body even though his brain demanded himself to get up and protect what — who — was important to him.

He could vaguely see Soleia hovering over him, tears welling in her eyes. One drop landed on his cheek, a cool reprieve to the otherwise burning sensation thrumming through his body.

There was a glow that came from Soleia’s bosom. He squinted at it, frowning. A silvery light seemed to bloom right where her heart was, and he couldn’t tell if he was starting to see the light of heaven beckoning him closer or if the sun was perhaps starting to rise.

But sunlight was not silver, and the moon was not in Soleia’s dress.

His fingers twitched. Slowly, his vision started to get a lot clearer. His mouth no longer felt dry, and when he looked down, his carnelian stone was glowing brighter and brighter.

Similarly, Ricard’s eyes went wide as he watched the life that was slowly seeping out of his younger brother’s body return. Color returned to Rafael’s cheeks, and the pendant that he wore seemed to glow brighter than ever before.

He had been so overwhelmed with shock that he stumbled back, his knees feeling awfully weak all of a sudden. Ricard had seen countless men, women, and children die. He had also witnessed Raziel perform miracles when it came to healing.

But this, he had never encountered. Ricard had never seen a dying man heal himself when he was already so exhausted of energy.

Rafael’s fingers buzzed with magic, so much so that they almost felt numb. His abdomen no longer felt pain, and when Soleia pried open his shirt to have a look, the wound had stitched itself back together. If it weren’t for the bloodstains, she would’ve thought he was never injured to begin with and had only put on a mere act.

She cast a wide-eyed glance at Rafael, and he met her gaze with the same surprise. Then, a seemingly forgotten memory shot through his mind. He remembered the feeling of power back then that had coursed through his veins, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

"Princess," he croaked, his voice still a little hoarse from brushing past death. "I need you to touch me."