The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 171: Seven

As the councilors and ministers filled the grand hall, Lennox quietly pulled Esme aside, and he murmured softly.

"Do you even realize what you’re doing?" he asked, frustration and concern laced in his voice.

His golden eyes swept over her, studying her pale complexion, and he sighed heavily. "You should be resting. You’re in no condition to involve yourself in matters like these, Esme. Why did you come here, to see all this? I never wanted you to witness any of it."

He then paused, pressing his fingers against his temples as if trying to ease an invincible weight. "The royal priest will arrive shortly. Once the confirmation is given, his punishment will be delayed... but only because you yourself are insisting. However, your kindness, while admirable, makes you vulnerable to people like him. They see it as a weakness and exploit it. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?"

Lennox stepped closer, and he rested his hands lightly on her shoulder. His voice softened further, and it was tinged with a desperate plea as he said. "Please, Esme, promise me you’ll stay far away from him. I really can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt."

Esme lifted her gaze to meet his, his golden eyes shimmering with unspoken worry. Silently, she nodded, acknowledging his concerns. Feeling her acquiescence, Lennox’s grip on her shoulder eased, and a faint smile curved his lips, a fragile relief glinting in his expression.

"Your Majesty," a guard approached, his posture firm yet respectful, and he lowered his head in a bow. "The royal priest has arrived."

In the grand center of the hall, Esme sat with quiet dignity before the Royal priest, who began a solemn cleansing ritual. The air was still, and the small assembly, which consisted of councils and ministers, expressed subtle outrage when they heard that the daughter of Alpha Damon had dared to take the side of a monster.

If not for her father’s powerful influence, and the young prince’s evident favor for the girl, the council might have insisted on a graver consequence for her. They couldn’t risk their lives, but knew they had no say in the current matter concerning the ongoing ceremonial absolution.

When the ritual concluded, the royal priest turned toward Lennox and declared with an air of finality. "The ritual is complete. There is no trace of dark magic manipulation in her."

Esme’s gaze drifted toward her father, and he beckoned her over. She rose immediately, going to stand next to him, as the gazes fixed on her made her uncomfortable. Lennox simply acknowledged the priest’s words with a curt nod but said nothing, his expression unreadable.

"I told you so, didn’t I?" Esme turned to Lennox. "I’m not under any kind of dark manipulation."

"This was done for your own safety," one of the minister’s interjected, his stern visage adding weight to his words. His sharp eyes settled on her. "Children should not wander into unknown places — especially within the palace, without proper guidance. However, you’re still a child, you’re bound to make these types of mistakes, so I will hold your father accountable for your actions."

"Then shouldn’t he be held accountable as well?" Esme demanded, her voice firm as she pointed directly at the councilman who led her astray. "He’s the one responsible for me losing my way in the first place. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shut the door on me intentionally to land the boy in big trouble. He even claimed to have seen my father wandering in that direction, supposedly looking for me."

"Did you really guide my daughter there?" Damon asked in full seriousness, and the man shifted in his seat before answering.

"I did guide her in that direction," he admitted, carefully choosing his words. "But only because I believed you’d be looking for her there. I’ll concede that I may have been at fault for not ensuring her safety—perhaps I should have accompanied her more closely—but I categorically deny locking her in. Why would I do such a thing? What possible reason could I have?"

"Since it’s been confirmed that your daughter is safe, then there’s nothing to worry about," Lennox interjected smoothly, cutting through the tension, "at this point, there’s no need to escalate this further. The matter has been resolved, and we should avoid unnecessary discord. Uncle," he added, turning to Alpha Damon. "please don’t trouble yourself further with this. If anyone truly locked Esme in there, I’ll personally see to it that the truth of the matter is uncovered. You can trust me on that."

The councilman nodded in affirmation, and Damon could only do the same. As everyone dismissed, Esme approached Lennox with grace, her skirt brushing softly against the floor as she curtsied with practiced politeness.

"Your Majesty," she began, her voice carefully composed, though a slight tremor betrayed her hesitation. "Please accept my, my... my uhm..," Esme paused, searching her mind for the right word. Finally, she settled on it. "Yes, my heartfelt condolences for the loss of your parents. I really put a lot of effort into memorizing that word for you, I hope you can forgive my earlier hesitance. Also, thank you—"

Her words faltered as she lifted her gaze, catching Lennox crouching slightly to meet her eye level. To her surprise, he reached out and patted her head with a gentleness that bellied his usual regal demeanor.

"There’s no need for you to stress, and thank you," he said. "For now, focus more on your health. If you ever need anything, or if your father isn’t around, then you can come to me. But promise me this; don’t wander off alone again. That’s all I ask of you."

Esme nodded quietly, and she watched as Lennox straightened before walking away, his presence lingering even after he disappeared from view.

Later that night, Esme lay in one of the grand palace chambers, her body heavy with exhaustion and the lingering effects of her medicine. Her father stood beside her bed, and his familiar blue eyes met hers with quiet concern. He placed a small silver bell on the nightstand within her reach.

"If you need anything at all, just ring this," he explained gently. "Lennox has already arranged a few maids to wait outside, so help us close by. I’m sorry we couldn’t return home, but I promise, we’ll leave as soon as you’re feeling stronger."

"Will you still leave for the next war?" Esme asked her father, her voice soft yet tinged with worry. "They’ll need you there, won’t they?"

Her father released a quiet sigh before taking his seat at the edge of her bed. He replied, "Yes, they will," he met her gaze. "But I’m an Alpha warrior, it’s my duty to ensure no harm comes to the people, but you as well. This is going to be the most critical battle yet, since apparently, the kingdom has the demon’s son in custody."

Esme’s hands twisted on her lap. "But you’ll be safe...right? You’ll come home as always, right?"

He smiled, "I’ll do my best," he replied. "Hopefully we’ll be able to take the real threat down. Concerning the boy, whether or not he meant to commit treason, a huge crime has been committed, regardless. I’d consider giving him a chance since his first actions were out of defense, but I can’t go against the rules of Illyria. You should sleep, and rest well. We’ll talk more tomorrow."

Tucking her in, he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well, my little moon," he murmured before taking his leave.

When the door clicked shut, Esme lay still for a moment. Then, after a beat of silence, with no sleep in her eyes, she slipped out of bed, her heart heavy with unspoken thoughts. She carefully opened the door to find the entrance empty, which meant the maids hadn’t arrived yet. Using the opportunity granted to her, she closed the door softly behind her and hurried down the path towards the kitchen.

Gathering a small assortment of dishes and fruits, Esme made her way toward the private cell situated in the Tower at the rear of the palace. Lennox had mentioned transferring the boy from the dungeon to this more secluded location, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

As she neared the area, she kept a wary eye on the gaolers patrolling the corridors. Timing her movements with precision, she waited until they turned a corner before slipped past, her footsteps light and swift. The tower’s cell were eerily quiet, their thick stone walls muffling even the faintest noise.

She went through one of the doors, and it wasn’t long before her eyes fell on the boy seated inside the dimly lit chamber. The once grimly feature now appeared slightly presentable, whilst the dirt and grime had been scrubbed away. He had wrapped himself tightly in the thick, brown shawl she had given him earlier. The cell was quite stark and cold, its walls devoid of any comfort, but the boy seemed calmer than before.

"Hey," she whispered softly, approaching the iron bars. "It’s not much, but I brought you some fruits."

At the unexpected sound of her voice, Donovan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He knew that floral scent he perceived was from her, but he didn’t want to believe she’d return until now. "It’s you again."

"Are... you alright?" When he didn’t respond, she quietly pushed the fruits she wrapped up into his cell. "I know you told me not to come back, but I just wanted to bring you these. I’m sorry for getting you into trouble. There are some bananas, apples, and sliced watermelon... oh, and I wrapped up bread and snacks too. Those were all I could find in the kitchen, and I hope it helps." She hesitated before adding. "I’ll leave you be now."

As she turned to leave, his voice cut through the silence. "Wait."

Esme froze mid-step, and she slowly turned around to face him. His blindfold still shielded his eyes, and that did nothing to dwindle how charming he looked.

"Tell me," he said, his voice softer than she remembered, "What’s your name?"

Esme wasn’t expecting he’d ask, so she answered with a hint of pride. "Esmeray Montague, but you can call me Esme. Most people call me Esme."

"Can you come closer," he beckoned her over, his hands curling slightly towards himself.

Esme hesitated when she saw him move closer first, and after a moment, she took a cautious step forward, then another till she was inches away from the bar. He lowered himself to one knee, and slowly, his hands reached out. Esme flinched slightly, but didn’t pill away as his fingers gently cupped her small face.

His touch was tentative and deliberate, his palms cold as they brushed over her warm cheeks, pausing to lightly pinch them. His expression shifted, softening into something thoughtful, almost curious.

"Hmm," he murmured, his thumb brushing her temples, and observing the length of her hair before he patted her gently on the head, the gesture oddly comforting.

"You’re much shorter than I imagined," he observed, tilting his head slightly as though trying to picture her in his mind. His hands fell back on his sides. "How old are you?"

"Seven," Esme replied, her voice tinged with amusement as she raised seven fingers.

Donovan’s eyebrows furrowed at her response, disbelief etched on his face. "You mean you’re seven? Like the number one to seven?" he repeated incredulously, as though her behavior didn’t match her words.

Why did he assume she was older? A bit disappointed he was too.

Esme on the other hand, couldn’t help but giggle softly at his reaction, her tension easing just a little.