Garden Of Poison-Chapter 235: To dry you

Music Recommendation: Define Dancing - Thomas Newman

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"ACHOO!"

Emily sneezed. Although her hair had stopped dripping, it was still wet, as were her clothes. The scarf around her neck felt heavy, so she unwrapped it from her shoulders.

"Such a delicate darling," Raylen murmured, and Emily shot a glare at him.

"If you didn’t have stalkers of your own and hadn’t pushed me into the lake, I would have been just fine," Emily complained. Her nose tingled, not only from the cold water but also because the atmosphere was growing colder with every passing second as snowflakes continued to fall around them. Her eyes darted to the dead man on the ground as they moved away from him.

Raylen clicked his tongue and quipped, "There’s no need to be jealous that I have followers, Princess. I am sure you will have your fair share of them soon enough."

"Please don’t jinx it," Emily murmured, not wanting to add any more complications to her already bumpy life. She couldn’t help but notice how Raylen barely looked fazed by the cold weather, possibly because he was an archdemon, but then, at the same time, she remembered that he had lived in this environment for aeons and had grown accustomed to it.

"Give me that," Raylen requested, stretching out his hand to her and towards his scarf.

When Emily handed the scarf to him, she observed him wrapping it around his neck, and for the briefest moment, her eyebrows furrowed. Then, in the next second, she saw steam escaping from his clothes and body, flowing to the tips of his hair, leaving him completely dry as if he had never been touched by a single drop of water.

Raylen turned to look at Emily, who continued to shiver as the wind around them intensified. He asked her with a slight smile,

"Want me to dry your clothes off for you?"

"If it doesn’t involve you wearing my clothes, then okay," Emily replied, phrasing it in a way that shifted the focus from herself to him.

"There is a way to fix your wet clothes," Raylen replied.

"Okay," Emily replied, because she was sure that if she stayed in her wet clothes until they returned to the castle, she would fall sick again. However, when she caught sight of the mischievous smile dancing on his lips as the corners slowly widened, she quickly added, "Or maybe not."

Raylen chuckled at her reaction. "We are not going to have you take your clothes off, Princess. I did say I would be a gentleman for you, just as I have been," he assured her.

But the smile on his lips said a whole other story, and Emily regarded him with scepticism. She asked, "So... Do you need to hold my hand for it? Or just a finger?"

"Usually, it works with skin contact, but I believe you would prefer it without, yes?" Raylen hummed, and Emily couldn’t help but wonder if he was accommodating her feelings to gain her trust or if he had some other underlying motive.

"Yes," Emily replied, brushing her wet hair away from the sides of her neck.

"Okay then," Raylen replied before taking slow and deliberate steps towards her, giving her time to grasp his intentions.

"Is pushing women into lakes a regular part of your scenic outings?" Emily asked, trying to divert her thoughts even as she watched Raylen approaching her.

"Never. Women frequently succumb easily to my charms." Raylen’s voice was playful, yet the glint in his eyes was stormy as he watched her. He continued to joke, "If not words, sometimes actions help, don’t they? Although on certain rare occasions, they turned into casualties I couldn’t save."

"Ha ha. I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do," Emily laughed, but her smile soon turned nervous. Could they have been deliberately sacrificed?

When Raylen’s head moved close to hers, Emily quickly moved backwards, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at him with a questioning expression. She heard him say,

"It is part of drying you off. No touching, I promise." He then murmured, his lips twisting, "The amount of distrust is making me sad and is quite rude, Princess."

"I don’t mean to be mistrustful, but I think it has something to do with the way you are looking at me right now," Emily said, and as her hand instinctively moved to adjust her wet dress clinging to her legs, she felt her elbow graze the bark of a tree. When she glanced at it and then ahead of her, she realised that Raylen had closed the distance between them.

"And how am I looking at you?" Raylen inquired, indulging in dissecting her thoughts. His blue eyes traced the contours of her face, which seemed paler due to the water she had fallen into, and her dark blonde hair adorned with glistening water droplets. If he didn’t know better, he would have believed she was an elf.

Emily saw him raise his hand and capture a drop of water from her hair, running his finger over the strand. She remarked, "You should know it already."

"I truly don’t. So, please tell me, Princess. Unfortunately, there’s no mirror here." Raylen’s words carried a gentle yet teasing tone. "Raise your head," he instructed her. As much as he enjoyed teasing her, he didn’t want her to fall ill. Although, on second thought, it would mean she wouldn’t attend the gathering.

Leaning against the tree for support, Emily raised her chin as requested, locking eyes with Raylen. She found him gazing at her, the smile on his lips fading, and wondered if he was attempting to rid her clothes and herself of the water. But she didn’t notice any steam.

"Raylen?"

"Hm?"

"Are you working on the water... drying?" Emily asked curiously.

"Not yet," Raylen responded, a subtle frown creasing his face that eventually vanished as he added, "I was pondering if we should perhaps let you stay like this. It is a true dilemma. A sick and vulnerable princess who turns needy for attention when ill. To be nursed back to health."

And as much as he wanted to covet her and claim her as his own, she needed to see and understand that he was the best choice for her, something that couldn’t be accomplished within the confines of the castle.

For a fleeting moment, Emily’s heart stuttered at the direction of his thoughts, uncertain how to respond. With him in such close proximity, she whispered softly, "That wouldn’t be fair..."

"Nothing is fair. But you know that already, and then there’s your mother in the castle," Raylen remarked with a thoughtful hum, aware of Lady Sophia’s mother-hen tendencies. When she briefly lowered her chin, she felt his cold hand beneath it, gently guiding her to tilt her face back up to meet his gaze. He placed his other hand on the bark of the tree and remarked, "Time to rid you of that water, then."

Raylen moved closer, encasing Emily as he lowered his face towards hers, which allowed him to examine her eyes more closely in the light. His parted lips hovered just above hers, which trembled slightly, as though she could feel him.