Married To Darkness-Chapter 412: She Was Noble

And I’m not a damsel.

"Of course you’re not," he teased with a smirk. "But I like calling you that. It suits you when you’re blushing like that."

"I’m not blushing!"

"You are." He taunted.

"I’m not!"

"You definitely are." His insistance was insane.

She huffed and quickened her pace, walking close to him, sword in hand, trying not to stumble as they weaved through trees and over uneven ground.

"Where are we going?" she asked, quieter now, concern creeping back into her voice as she glanced at Heappal’s pale, unconscious face.

"To a physician," Sebastian replied without missing a step.

"You know your way around here?"

There was a pause, then he answered, "Trust me."

She stared at his back, at the broad shoulders burdened by a man he had no reason to help. Her fingers curled tighter around the sword’s hilt.

"Trust you?" she scoffed, though her voice cracked slightly. "A bounty hunter?"

He didn’t stop walking, didn’t even glance back. "We can talk after getting this one to safety."

She hesitated, but followed, brushing the wetness from her cheeks. Somehow, despite everything, she did trust him... and that scared her more than anything.

They arrived at an estate just as the moon slipped behind a curtain of clouds.

The building loomed before them—tall, ancient, and shrouded in shadow. Ivy clung to the stone walls like a curse, and torches flickered in sconces, casting the carved faces of gargoyles into eerie life.

The gate creaked open as if it hadn’t been touched in decades, and then—suddenly—a man stood in the entrance.

He was tall, lean, and draped in layered robes of dark burgundy. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken but sharp, and when he smiled, Thalia’s stomach twisted.

"Sebastian," the man said, voice smooth and low. "You’ve brought me a guest."

Thalia instinctively inched closer to Sebastian, nearly brushing his arm.

The warmth of him, his solid presence, made her feel—just slightly—less like prey.

"Two guests," Sebastian corrected dryly. "One is bleeding to death."

The physician chuckled. "A charming type. Bring him in."

The inside was no warmer. The walls were lined with shelves of dusty tomes, bottled herbs, and strange instruments. Candles burned low, casting long shadows that danced and whispered. Everything about the place felt like a secret.

They laid Heappal on a table padded with old wool blankets. He groaned faintly, stirring as his blood soaked through the wrappings they’d hastily applied earlier.

"Stab wound. Deep. Side of the abdomen," Sebastian said, pulling off his coat and tossing it aside, his voice suddenly all business. "He fought off two hunters but didn’t walk away clean."

The physician was already rolling up his sleeves. "Let’s see how bad the damage is."

Thalia stepped back, watching as the man ran his hands gently over Heappal’s side, then reached for his tools—polished scissors, curved hooks, bandages soaked in something that smelled faintly of mint and rot.

She swallowed hard.

The air in the room was thick—too quiet. Everything felt muffled and slowed, like a dream about to curdle into nightmare.

Sebastian glanced at her.

"Sit," he said softly, nodding toward a velvet-cushioned bench near the wall. "You’re trembling."

"I’m not—" But she was. Now that the running and fighting had stopped, her body was catching up. Her knees were shaking.

Her fingers ached from gripping the sword too tightly. She sat.

The physician worked quickly, murmuring to himself, hands steady as he cleaned the wound, stitched, and wrapped. The smell of iron filled the room. Heappal’s face was slick with sweat.

"He’ll live," the man finally announced, dabbing at the last of the blood. "Barely. Don’t let him walk for a week or two, and keep him warm. Lucky bastard. If that blade had gone a few inches deeper..."

Sebastian let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks."

Thalia didn’t speak. She watched, quietly, her fingers knotted in the fabric of her dress.

Eventually, the physician disappeared down a dark hallway with his bloodied tools, leaving them in the wide, dim room.

The silence returned—thick and strange, like a storm waiting just outside the door.

"Is this place... safe?" Thalia asked at last, glancing around.

Sebastian chuckled and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Safe enough. For now."

She nodded, but her heart didn’t quite believe it. Everything here felt older than it should, like the walls remembered too much.

"I didn’t expect a house," she said quietly. "I thought you’d take us to a tent... or a camp."

"I know better than to keep wounded knights in the woods," he said simply, watching her. "Especially ones who insult beautiful maids and still get protected by them."

She looked at him sharply. "You were listening?"

"I can see it, he regrets it barely."

Thalia flushed, her face hot.

He looked away then, his expression unreadable in the half-light.

"Get some rest, Damsel," he said, voice lower now. "I’ll watch over him."

Something about the way he said it—the way his jaw clenched, the flicker of guilt behind his eyes—made her chest ache.

She stood and crossed the room. "Thank you," she whispered. "For helping us."

Sebastian looked at her—really looked at her.

Eyes the color of stormy skies, unwavering.

"You didn’t run," he said quietly, voice edged with something like disbelief. "Not this time."

Thalia turned her head slowly to glance at Heappal, still unconscious and pale against the blankets, then down at her own hands—trembling, blood-streaked, clenched. freewebnøvel.com

"No," she whispered. "I couldn’t."

"Because of him?" Sebastian asked. The words came too fast, too sharp, as if he couldn’t stop them. Bitterness crept under his tongue like poison.

Thalia didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes flicked up to his face, uncertain. Then she inhaled.

"You went against your fellow hunters," she said instead, voice measured.

Sebastian’s jaw flexed. "It could be because I want you for myself," he said, gaze falling to her open palm, the same one that had once tried to slap him.

He wanted to touch her again.

Feel her warmth.

Remember that she was real.

Her fingers curled slowly. "Do you?" she asked softly.