A terrifying killing intent descended without warning. Though the temperature inside the ice cellar was far warmer than outside, Pasfield still shivered involuntarily.
He sneaked a glance at Ur's expressionless face beside him and, for the first time, felt a flicker of concern for his "sister."
If she really ended up dead here, explaining that when he got back would be a nightmare.
Tap. Tap.
The two women standing beside Delina hurried forward, placing themselves in front of her. One gripped a weapon, the other a staff, both staring at Ur with guarded vigilance.
The instant Ur's killing intent had flared, every hair on their bodies had stood on end. It felt as if some ancient beast had fixed its gaze upon them.
"Anrika, Haisha, there's no need to be so tense," Delina said with a casual wave of her hand, signaling them to step back. Smiling, she turned to Pasfield. "I'm sure my dear little brother wouldn't raise a hand against me. Right, Pasfield?"
Cold sweat broke out across Pasfield's back.
How had he never realized before that this "sister" of his had such a death wish?
I wouldn't touch you, sure—but the man next to me? That's another story!
Pasfield had no illusions about being able to stop Ur. He'd seen Ur strike Diana before. The man was a cold-blooded god of slaughter, emotion optional.
This is bad, bad, bad…
Every generation of the Dori family saw competition among heirs, but no one had ever died. Blood was blood. They weren't monsters who would kill their own for profit.
More importantly, if Delina really died here, who knew what that would do to his standing as heir?
Pasfield's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to stop Ur later, preferably without getting caught in the crossfire himself.
The killing aura in the air thickened.
Ur remained expressionless, his left hand once again resting lightly on the sheath of the Dark Dragon Fang.
Delina, on the other hand, continued to smile as though utterly unconcerned. There was even a faint challenge in her gaze: Go on. I dare you.
Even Pasfield felt nervous on her behalf.
But suddenly, Ur withdrew his killing intent. He gave Delina a long, meaningful look, then turned and walked to one side to sit down, as if nothing had happened.
Pasfield stared in astonishment.
Even Delina's eyes flickered with surprise. She had already received information from her younger sister about Pasfield and Ur, including the incident where Ur had slain two Vichy tribesmen.
By her calculations, Ur should not have reacted this way. Her scheme had failed, but she didn't look the least bit annoyed.
At that moment, however, the two women she had hired stepped close and spoke in low voices. "Miss Delina, we think it would be best if you stopped provoking that man."
"What do you mean?" Delina frowned slightly, displeased.
"You hired us to guarantee your safety. But if you continue to antagonize him, we may not be able to fulfill that duty."
Delina's heart skipped a beat. She understood exactly what they were implying, and that made it worse. "Even the two of you together aren't enough?"
The women exchanged a glance and, after a moment's silence, shook their heads.
Delina said nothing.
She had known from her sister that Pasfield had found himself a "very strong" helper, but she'd had no real sense of what that meant. Now she did. And now she, too, began to feel a little uneasy.
She had provoked Ur deliberately—yes, there had been calculation behind it. But that calculation rested on the assumption that someone could protect her.
Now her bodyguards were telling her they couldn't win. That changed things.
Her face remained calm. What her heart looked like at that moment was another matter entirely. The five of them divided themselves cleanly into two camps within the ice cellar. The cellar was large enough that each side could whisper without being overheard.
Pasfield sat beside Ur, his curiosity clawing at him like a restless cat. He desperately wanted to ask why Ur hadn't drawn his blade. He knew it wasn't exactly a gracious question, but he couldn't help himself.
After hesitating for a long while, he still hadn't found a tactful way to begin.
Just then, Kakatu entered the cellar.
The moment he saw the two clearly divided groups, a trace of disappointment flashed through his aged eyes. He then instructed the Vichy warriors behind him to bring forward two platters of what looked like "food," setting one before Pasfield and Ur, the other before Delina's group.
"It is late," Kakatu said slowly. "You may rest here for the night. Tomorrow, I will take you to the location of the Sacred Water."
He turned to leave, but after only a step, he paused as if remembering something.
"Oh, right. Mr. Pasfield, you arrived later, so there is something I must clarify. This place is close to our tribe's temple. Therefore, any form of combat here is strictly forbidden."
After speaking, he gave Ur a deep, lingering look before finally departing.
Pasfield fell silent.
This old bastard was wicked to the bone.
Compared to his "siblings," Pasfield might lack a certain ruthlessness. But in matters of business, his instincts were razor sharp. Almost the moment Kakatu finished speaking, Pasfield understood the man's scheme.
Thank goodness Ur had held back earlier.
If he had drawn his blade, Kakatu would have rushed in immediately. Perhaps he wouldn't have done anything too drastic, but he certainly would have spun some line about "ignorance excuses nothing" and demanded compensation.
And just like that, he'd pocket another tidy sum.
"Damn it, this old fox is inventing new ways to squeeze money out of us," Pasfield muttered.
Then he glanced at Ur, who had clearly seen through everything from the start, and suddenly felt his own intelligence thoroughly suppressed. Annoyed, he rolled over and buried his head, falling asleep in a sulk.
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