Chapter 122 The Generals Claim
I had just started to process Kurt's strange words about moving to Thurn when, suddenly, Kurt's shoulder was struck hard from the side.
Thud!
The blow was so forceful that Kurt, who had been holding my waist, was pushed aside and his hand slipped away.
The waltz music echoing through the room stopped abruptly. The musicians on stage immediately lowered their violin bows, frightened by the presence of whoever had just entered. The hall fell silent. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Before I could react or step back, Claus's large hand was already gripping my wrist. His hold was firm. He pulled me away from Kurt, straight into his own domain.
My bare arm pressed against Claus's palm, still slick with blood from the broken glass earlier. The scent of blood mingled with the cold aroma of his uniform. My chest felt tight as he pulled my body against his hard chest. He was not the type of man to let something like this slide in public.
Prince Kurt's cocky expression vanished. His jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his emotions. Before Claus could lead me away, Kurt's hand quickly grabbed the hem of my dress, tugging hard to stop us both.
Kurt looked up, locking eyes with Claus, flashing a deliberately mocking grin.
"This song isn't over yet, Duke," Kurt whispered.
His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for the row of pale-faced nobles nearby to hear. Claus stopped walking. He looked down, eyes filled with disgust at Kurt's hand on my dress.
Without hesitation, Claus brushed Kurt's hand away with a cold, rough motion, using his bloodied right hand.
Smack!
Kurt's hand was forced away from my dress.
Claus pulled me even closer, shielding me behind his broad frame. He stared directly at Kurt, his eyes flat and cold, radiating real threat. In a deep baritone that carried throughout the hall without a mic, Claus spoke slowly and clearly:
"She's finished her dance with me tonight, Prince Kurt."
Everyone in the hall heard those words. No one dared to object.
I glanced at the royal row. The King looked stunned, his brows knitted together.
The Queen watched Claus and me with a tense face, trying to remain composed in front of the guests.
Meanwhile, Claus's mother, usually so graceful, covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide in disbelief at what had just happened.
Without waiting for a reply or caring about anyone's opinions, Claus spun around. He pulled my wrist and led me out of the ballroom.
In my mind, I realized Claus was doing all of this in front of everyone. He no longer cared about gossip or etiquette. He was protecting me in his own way, as if wanting the world to know who he had chosen.
For the first time, I was truly certain Claus liked me, a lot.
The noble crowd on either side fell completely silent. They parted, giving us a wide berth as Claus and I passed. No one dared speak or call out. Everyone lowered their gaze to the floor, allowing the most feared general in the country to take his prize and leave the room.
Lysandra. She had been watching everything unfold from beginning to end without blinking. Her face was pale. Her hands shook violently as she saw the blood on Claus's hand, then watched how the general protected me in such an extreme way.
Her hands trembled so much that the teacup she held tilted.
Drop by drop, warm tea spilled onto her white dress. Brown stains blossomed on the expensive fabric. But Lysandra didn't even care about the stain. Her breath was short, her chest heaving, as she tried to contain the jealousy, hatred, and rage that threatened to explode.