Chapter 013: Ambition

From the moment Lina Riley first met Lucille Everard, she found her impossible to fathom. Even an entire lifetime later, Lina still couldn't see through her.

A crushing force pressed against Lina's spear, and she struggled to hold her own. Her opponent showed no mercy—if Lina didn't fight at full strength, she might well lose her life.

Crack! The shaft of her spear began to splinter, and The Princess Royal's smile widened in tandem with every fissure. Lina dared not let her mind wander. She shoved Lucille away but had no time to prepare for the next onslaught.

Lucille Everard unleashed fatal strike after fatal strike without holding back, forcing Lina into a purely reactive stance. The fight spilled from the platform to the ground when Lina, caught off-balance, toppled off the stage. Yet Lucille gave her no reprieve, leaping down from above.

Lina rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the sword aimed at her face—close enough that the blade grazed her cheek, leaving no wound. On the stage above, Willa Langley stood dumbfounded at the edge, watching as the two opponents fought with deadly force. Their vicious attacks made her tremble from head to toe. She had only wanted a fair rematch, never expecting the situation to spiral so far.

It was well known that The Princess Royal was both obsessive and ruthless; Lina's chances of escaping intact seemed bleak. Willa's face went pale, part of it from blood loss, part from guilt.

At first, Lina managed to hold out, but her inferior weapon soon reached its limit and snapped in two. She watched helplessly as Lucille's blade descended toward her shoulder. Just when she expected to be slashed, Lucille abruptly pulled back her sword and delivered a kick, sending Lina rolling across the ground instead.

"Cough, cough!"

Her broken spear still clutched firmly, Lina choked as she pushed herself up using the shaft, while Lucille—oddly—made no move to attack. A hush fell over the spectators; all eyes were trained on the two figures. The other contestants had become entirely irrelevant.

No one had taken much notice of Lina before. She was Reginald Riley's neglected second daughter, usually seen with her head lowered, timid and subservient. Even though she'd shown decent riding and archery skills in the preliminary events, few were truly impressed. After all, she was General Riley's daughter—some competence was to be expected.

But now, they were truly stunned. Lina had managed to spar with Lucille Everard—despite her poor-quality spear—and had held her own for a surprising length of time, even if she was on the losing side. Because The Princess Royal was a legend: she had once eradicated an entire bandit fortress a hundred men strong, emerging unscathed while the ground was soaked in blood.

Alas, now that The Princess Royal had actually joined the fight, it seemed Lina's destiny had reached its end.

Blood trickled from Lina's mouth. The iron tang of it was all too familiar, so strong that it nearly made her gag. Her right hand, trembling around the broken spear, burned with equal measures of rage and fear. She locked eyes with Lucille. "Isn't this enough to prove myself, Your Highness?"

Lucille Everard's own excitement only grew at Lina's serious tone. She lifted her blade with a grin. "Then prove it to me."

Heaving a silent sigh, Lina moved the broken spear from her right hand to her left. The crowd had no idea what she was doing—some thought she was terrified into madness, others guessed her right arm was injured. Nobody realized she was simply taking this battle more seriously than ever before.

Though half the spear was broken, the pointed end remained intact and fairly long. Lina's expression changed, igniting that confident aura of her past life. She spoke coolly, "Then allow me to learn from you, Your Highness."

A gleam of admiration crossed Lucille's eyes, mingled with an unsettling pressure. She hadn't felt such a thrill in ages, and it spurred her on.

Their surroundings faded to the din of clashing steel. Both fought ferociously, every strike intended to wound. At the very edge of the arena, Willa Langley observed them trade blow for blow and had a realization: Lina must be left-handed. During the earlier round, she had used her right hand, which explained why it looked like she'd "held back." Willa felt furious and at the same time impressed—angry that Lina hadn't considered her a worthy rival, yet forced to admit Lina's skill.

In Lina's previous life, she had crossed swords with The Princess Royal more than once—though most encounters had involved Lina running for her life. Rarely had they fought so openly. Even now, Lina knew deep down she was no match. Still, she refused to just roll over and die. Having fought her way back to life, she was determined to change her fate. So, gritting her teeth, she decided on a desperate gamble. As Lucille's sword fell, Lina did not block. Instead, she snapped what remained of her spear's shaft and thrust it forward, a maneuver that risked them both suffering injuries.

Just as it seemed they'd strike each other simultaneously, Lucille displayed no fear. In fact, her excitement blazed. The onlookers held their breath—some too faint of heart shut their eyes. But the expected outcome never happened. Lina had still underestimated Lucille, who suddenly tossed aside her sword and nudged Lina's wrist. Sharp pain shot up Lina's arm, forcing her to drop the broken spear. Her forward momentum carried her straight into Lucille's arms.

The faint scent of plum blossoms filled Lina's senses. A crushing wave of despair followed, and her legs began to give out—only for Lucille's hand to circle around her waist, keeping her from collapsing. All the murderous aura from a moment before vanished. Lina heard Lucille's soft laugh. "This isn't the time for sleeping."

Lina's entire body tensed. She struggled to push Lucille away, but that arm around her waist held tight as an iron shackle. Resigned, Lina stopped resisting, relieved that Lucille showed no intention of dealing another blow. Even so, she felt uneasy. Lifting her head slightly, she found Lucille's face was startlingly close—one step nearer and their lips would touch.

She avoided Lucille's gaze, bowing her head. "I've lost. Do with me as you will."

Of course, those words were merely a formality; Lina desperately wanted to live. Time stretched in the sudden silence, and she stole nervous glances at Lucille's expression. Then she felt fingers brush the side of her neck—similar to what had happened that night. Her heart lurched in alarm, only to find the touch neither strangling nor painful, but more like a stinging tingle.

"You're hurt," said Lucille.

Only a thin scratch marred Lina's neck, so slight she wouldn't have noticed if Lucille hadn't pointed it out. She automatically reached up and bumped against Lucille's cold hand—so cold it felt inhuman. Startled, Lina withdrew. "I'm sorry."

Her apology went unanswered, so she looked up again. Reflected in those cool, clear eyes was her own face. For one fleeting moment, Lina imagined that Lucille's gaze held concern for her. She almost laughed at herself. Lucille might admire her or exploit her, but caring was out of the question.

Realizing how improper their embrace must look under so many watchful eyes, Lina tried again. "Your Highness?"

At last, the arm around her waist loosened. Lina's hands still shook, the adrenaline leaving her drained. This new life of hers seemed more stressful than the old one.

Lucille cast a glance at Lina, then at the spear on the ground now broken into three pieces. After a cryptic laugh, she moved toward Willa. The once-arrogant young woman sank onto her knees, trembling too hard to meet Lucille's gaze. Lucille stared down with icy composure. "I believe the championship should belong to her. You disagree?"

Willa, head bowed, felt a suffocating pressure. She had no courage to protest; besides, from what she had just witnessed, Lina would've destroyed her easily. "I… I have no objection."

Lucille looked satisfied. Then, sweeping her gaze across the crowd, she raised her voice. "Anyone else dissatisfied?"

"Long live The Princess Royal!" someone called, and soon every voice echoed the same phrase. Lucille lifted her right hand, and immediate silence reigned.

Lina watched her commanding figure and felt a surge of complicated emotions. Fortune had seemingly showered Lucille with everything—beauty, absolute power, stunning talent. Lina couldn't help a moment's self-doubt. She shook her head, pushing the thought away. Reflecting on her past life, she had followed the wrong person and ended up opposing Lucille. But perhaps many of Lucille's ruthless decisions had been justified. It was Lina herself who had erred.

Unaware of Lina's new perspective, Lucille gave her final verdict: "Then the champion of this martial competition is Lina Riley."

All eyes fell on Lina. Not long ago, they had dismissed her entirely. Now she calmly accepted the result. Lucille turned back, meeting Lina's gaze, then strode over and patted her shoulder. "This time was an exception—no need to fight me to the death anymore."

As Lucille turned to leave, Lina called, "Your Highness… does this mean you acknowledge me?"

Lucille seemed to find the question amusing. She shook her head without turning around. "From the start, I already did."

Lina's heart lurched as she stared at Lucille's retreating form. She remained rooted for a long while before heading home herself, mind wandering while her horse ambled along.

"Riley! Hold up!"

Willa Langley's angry shout rose alongside pounding hooves, and Lina halted. Wheeling her own horse in front, Willa glared with outrage. She was still weak and needed rest, but she'd used what strength she had left to catch up. Her eyes shone with unspent fury.

Lina started to voice concern for her injuries, but Willa jutted her chin aggressively. The only difference from before was a lack of scorn in her tone. "Why did you hide your real strength?"

Lina managed a rueful smile. "I have my reasons."

Snorting, Willa snapped, "You have such ability, yet you cower while the kingdom is in danger. If The Princess Royal hadn't intervened, would you have kept playing small forever?"

Lina gave no reply. The truth was, she might have done exactly that. Huffing in frustration, Willa spurred her horse and galloped off, disappearing around the bend.

Lina shook her head. "Some things never change with her."

In her previous life, Willa had never returned after storming off. But Lina sensed that this time they would cross paths again. Suddenly feeling lighter, she decided that resuming her old role as a general might not be so bad. Marriage, though? No, she'd set aside that notion.

Yet Lucille Everard's face flitted through her mind. Alarmed, Lina banished the image. She rubbed her forehead, mocking herself silently. How brazen could she be, entertaining such presumptuous thoughts?

She whispered, "Don't overstep, Lina. A vassal is just a vassal."