Isolde wasn't particularly interested in the eyes.
She held the tip of the tongue, looking it over from all angles, and finally couldn't resist kissing it.
It still had that familiar feeling.
But Isolde felt this was a bit of a depraved taste, so she stored everything away in her pouch.
Then, she crouched beside the utterly broken Sylas and removed most of the chains.
At least he looked more presentable this way.
Sylas lay motionless, no different from a dead man.
"Tsk tsk tsk. Ah, our aloof and noble young master Sylas, now you can't even bite your tongue off to kill yourself, because your tongue isn't in your mouth! Hahaha." Isolde layered on the sarcasm.
She cupped Sylas's face, gazing at the handsome features she hadn't seen for seven months, and couldn't help saying, "How about a kiss? I want to test if you can still enchant me."
"Heh... Hu..."
Without a tongue, Sylas couldn't form words.
He also couldn't open his eyes.
So, it was impossible to tell if he agreed or not.
But Isolde didn't care.
Just try disagreeing!
She kissed Sylas's lips.
Then, she pushed him away in disgust, furious.
"Didn't you say the enchantment only works through the eyes?
Why do I feel it again?
Your bewitching skills are quite potent."
Annoyed, she stood up, kicked Sylas in the shin, and left in a huff.
Sylas was left like a discarded scrap of cloth, abandoned in the small room to fend for himself.
He lay there, his heart utterly desolate.
When Isolde had kissed the severed tongue earlier, he had felt it.
So, he did believe these parts could be reattached.
Only... that required her to actually have it done for him.
If she didn't, he would remain blind and mute like this forever.
He suddenly couldn't help but laugh at himself.
How ridiculous I am.
I knew the danger, yet I stayed in Magnetite County for so long.
Only realizing the peril at the very last moment.
And here I was, priding myself on being resourceful and clever all along.
What a joke.
So resourceful and clever, and now I've had my eyes gouged out, my tongue removed, and been thrown aside like a piece of trash.
Kind people aren't necessarily bullied, but stupid people always are.
Who could resist teasing a beautiful fool?
He slowly curled into a ball, his fingers trembling as they touched his face.
Two hollow pits where his eyes used to be, an empty cavity for a mouth.
He must be a monster now.
A faint, self-mocking smile touched Sylas's lips.
Maybe it's better this way. Ugly. Might suffer less.
Now, just wait for the child to be born.
Hearing its voice will be enough.
...
Isolde sat in her study, lost in thought.
The red [tongue] and white [eyes] were placed before her.
Every little while, she would look down at them, then couldn't resist giving the red one a kiss.
It's depraved, I know, but just think of it as eating pork tongue, hehe.
And it tastes much better than pork tongue.
Sweet and cool.
And so convenient!
Can taste it anytime, anywhere.
But then, she would angrily mutter to herself, "That Sylas is nothing but a nation-wrecking incubus."
A refined lady like her, so utterly preoccupied by a mere prisoner.
It had to be because of the dark arts he practiced!
With a serious expression, she put the items away and began attending to matters of state.
First, she ordered Crystal to return to Lorynth.
The silly girl had been deceived by that scoundrel.
So pitiful.
Fortunately, she hadn't suffered too much.
Send her away from this den of trouble.
Then, send someone to fetch Celeste back.
Since her sister was bewitched by Sylas, she wasn't fundamentally at fault.
Bring her back to testify and identify the evidence of his crimes.
After working for a while, she secretly took out the small box again, staring wistfully at the red item.
I really want to kiss it...
To fight the urge, Isolde rubbed her belly, feeling the baby kick.
She poked her stomach. "Settle down. Your father is driving me crazy with desire."
Thump...
The fetus paid her no mind, delivering another kick.
Just then, a lady-in-waiting hurried to the door.
"Your Majesty, urgent war report."
Isolde quickly put the box away.
She adjusted her appearance, making herself look more dignified, and said, "Enter."
The lady-in-waiting entered, presented the scroll, and said nervously, "Your Majesty, according to reliable intelligence, Gwendolyn, Chancellor of Stonewold, has led thirty thousand troops to the Jade Wall.
The region is now a powder keg, tensions are extremely high."
"Gwendolyn?"
Isolde picked up the scroll and examined it carefully, then laughed dismissively.
"We are merely in Northspire to escape the summer heat. Look how Chancellor Gwendolyn is panicking.
We are aware.
Let Gwendolyn stir up trouble. Pay her no mind."
She was in Northspire, holding the advantage of terrain, ready to move downriver at any time.
If Gwendolyn reinforced the Jade Wall and Sentinel Peaks, she'd have to transport supplies all the way from Ironpeak.
Isolde could wait at her ease, rested and prepared.
Let's see who comes out worse in the end.
She then handled some other minor affairs.
By evening, as darkness fell, she finally relaxed.
She looked at the sky and had her attendants take her to the courtyard where Sylas was held.
The place was called the Green Bamboo Lodge, filled with many bamboo plants.
Dappled green shadows, an elegant and quiet environment.
Isolde's movements were somewhat awkward now due to her pregnancy.
Supported by a maid, she finally entered the room.
A servant assigned to watch over the place reported, "Your Majesty, the young master ate a few bites of food and is now resting."
"Mmm, leave us."
Isolde slowly made her way to the bedside.
She patted Sylas, who was lying facing inward.
"Asleep?"
Sylas didn't move.
He couldn't speak anyway.
Isolde wasn't anxious.
He was thoroughly captured now, with no possibility of escape.
She sighed and rubbed her belly.
"Ah, she keeps kicking me. It's so uncomfortable."
Sylas finally stirred.
He slowly sat up, his arms stretching out, groping blindly in the air.
"Here."
Isolde caught his hand and placed it on her belly.
She added, "So unruly. Just like you. Very wicked."
Sylas felt the curve of her belly, sorrows washing over him.
He bowed his head, immobile as a statue.
The fetus, feeling the warmth of the hand on the belly, impatiently kicked a couple of times.
With each kick against his palm, Sylas's heart beat faster.
The child is kicking him...
He couldn't suppress a faint smile.
Isolde caught every bit of that smile.
She was happy inside, but also filled with vinegar-like jealousy.
Look at you, smiling like a blooming flower.
Why don't you ever smile at me like that?
Suddenly petulant, she said, "Take your hand away. No more touching. This is my child."
"..."
Sylas awkwardly withdrew his hand and lay back down gently.
"Go wash my feet," Isolde said, pinching his arm.