The lively murmur of conversation drifted through one of the smaller reception chambers of the royal palace, a room often reserved for entertaining lesser nobles. Stefan sat upon a solitary sofa with the composed elegance befitting the eldest prince, while before him a young nobleman's son carried on polite conversation in the manner of men born into privilege.
Abimiel, who had accompanied her elder brother as part of her usual duties, suddenly halted when a signal from the intelligence division crackled through her personal communicator. Stepping forward, she offered a salute as sharp and disciplined as any seasoned soldier, delivering her report with the precision expected of the future admiral of the royal fleet.
" My apologies, Your Highness. An urgent mission has arisen within the waters between Frank and Hispania. Once it is resolved, I shall return before dinner. "
Stefan gave a slight nod, his calm gaze carrying unmistakable trust in his youngest sister.
" That would be Your Highness's youngest sister, I presume? " the man remarked, his eyes lingering on the figure walking away.
" Abimiel Royan d'Uival " Stefan replied, a trace of pride coloring his voice. " She is currently studying military strategy. "
" I've heard the stories " the nobleman said with a faint chuckle. " The young lady who wiped out the smugglers and vampires haunting the Strait of Gibraltar. Quite a fearsome woman. "
His gaze drifted toward the doorway through which Abimiel was about to disappear.
" Strong... though if a blade becomes too rigid, it ends up dull and without beauty ."
A smug laugh rumbled in his throat as he raised his teacup leisurely to his lips.
" She still seems rather young. If no engagement has been arranged yet... perhaps I should be the one to carve exquisite ornamentation upon that blade myself. "
The remark was no innocent proposal of courtship. It was a declaration — that he intended to tame the wild predator into nothing more than an obedient creature beneath his hand. The kind of repulsive arrogance that viewed women as objects devoid of heart and will.
The young woman froze instantly.
She had not yet fully left the room, lingering by a nearby mirror to straighten her uniform. Because of that, every mocking word reached her ears with perfect clarity.
Abimiel's eyes slowly shifted toward the source of the voice. Tiny veins surfaced at the corners of her pale eyes, spreading across the fair complexion so often likened to that of a saint. Yet now it trembled with fury barely restrained.
The leather-gloved hand at her side tightened until the material creaked softly.
The man's words stained both her honor and that of the royal family like filth smeared across polished silver.
He wished to carve ornamentation upon her?
Then he clearly did not understand.
This blade was forged to kill — not to decorate the display case of some arrogant fool.
" What vulgar words indeed " Antonio remarked, resting his chin lazily upon one hand as he watched his future sister-in-law absolutely demolishing the pasta before her.
" For even Antonio to recognize it as vulgar..." Nathan cast a sidelong glance toward his brother-in-law's eldest brother with a deliberately mocking look, " that man must truly be beyond saving. "
The jab carried an unmistakable undertone — if even a notorious flirt like Antonio found the nobleman's remarks distasteful, then the fellow clearly possessed no redeeming qualities whatsoever.
Raphael, the ever-devoted future husband, carefully poured chilled water until Abimiel's glass was full. He watched her cheeks puff slightly as she continued chewing with quiet affection warming his gaze.
" You must have had quite an exhausting day, hm? There is still more pasta in the pot ."
His voice overflowed with tenderness, though beneath that calm exterior simmered a fury no less fierce than the others. Abimiel had already recounted the entire incident to them — including the part where Stefan verbally dismantled the nobleman so thoroughly that he spared no consideration for the dignity of any aristocrat present.
Truly worthy of the title Father of Frank, a man who guarded his youngest sister with the ferocity of a serpent protecting its eggs.
" If you ever see his face again, I suggest punching him at least once " Nathan concluded flatly. Though he had always walked the path of diplomacy and peace, insults directed toward his youngest sister were enough to make him gladly abandon principle in favor of violence.
" And if your punch isn't strong enough, feel free to call us to help gang up on him " Antonio added, twirling a lock of hair around his finger with a playful grin that nevertheless carried genuine intent beneath it.
Abimiel paused in the middle of twirling strands of pasta around her fork, staring at both of her brothers who appeared far more troubled by the matter than she herself was.
" I'm truly fine " she said with a soft sigh. " Men like that suffer far more painfully by dying to the poison of their own mouths. Wasting time on them would accomplish nothing. "
Raphael studied the resolute expression upon her face for a long moment.
Then, gently, he placed his hand over hers.
A moment later, he lowered himself into the seat beside her, close enough for their warmth to mingle.
" Please allow me to stand among those who protect you... Abimiel. "
It was the firmest tone the gentle man — one who despised violence by nature — could possibly muster.
