Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

As the hunting party dispersed to prepare, Elara took her leave as well. She had decided to spend the day in her own pavilion, away from the sharp tongues and calculating gazes of the noble ladies. Crisseda had already set up a comfortable seating area with a small table and a steaming pot of tea. The maid's calming presence and the relative quiet of her secluded spot were exactly what Elara needed.

She settled into her chair, the delicate porcelain teacup warming her hands. The pavilion offered a clear view of the bustling camp and the nearby treeline. She sipped her tea slowly, letting the peaceful moment ground her.

She had brought the journal Caspian had given her when she first got here, and was flipping through it. Crisseda, who was pouring her another cup of tea, glanced at the book curiously.

"What an odd language your book is written in, miss," she observed, staring at it blatantly. "Is it the language spoken in your world?"

"It's one of our languages. We had a bunch. This is French. I started learning it when I was in sixth grade." Suddenly curious, she asked, "Do you know any other languages other than..." She searched for what they called English here and found it "...the shared tongue."

Crisseda shook her head. "Most commoners can only speak one language, miss. Finding those of us who can read that language is uncommon, let alone speaking an entirely different language."

She supposed that made sense. The Day of Eternal Night often mentioned the lives of the poor across the kingdoms. Like Crisseda had said, forget speaking another language, most people couldn't read the language they actually spoke. Those who did learn were because they were able to find a noble to sponsor them or find someone who had been sponsored by a noble to teach them.

Crisseda ran out to get some pastries from the makeshift kitchen the palace staff had set up nearby, and Elara returned her attention to the journal, flipping through a few pages. Before they'd gone out to meet the leader of the Sons of Lyrel, Elara had told him she'd written down which slums the group stemmed from, but she hadn't been able to find it as easily as she'd hoped. The book was packed, very messily, with all the information she'd learned. She skimmed through it all now and she finally found it—Reevesdale. They grew up in the slums of Reevesdale.

Funny. Chancellor Kyran's brother was the current Count of Reevesdale. He owned the area near where the slums were located—it was a mass of high-class shops and bakeries, and the kids usually huddled up in the alleyways, hoping some noble might take some kind of pity on them and be willing to spare a few coins.

Even funnier. Chancellor Kyran's brother had been the Sons of Lyrel's first victim.

Elara paused, pondering that. Her pondering didn't last long, though, because out of the corner of her eye, Elara noticed movement near the section of the camp where the hunters' equipment was stored. A figure—a man dressed in muted tones—was crouched near a pile of weapons. His movements were quick and deliberate, and even from a distance, Elara could see that he was tampering with something.

Her heart skipped a beat. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes to get a better look. The man was working on a long bow that looked eerily similar to the one Caspian had been using throughout the Hunt. He adjusted something with the strings, his hands moving with the precision of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Sabotage.

Elara's grip tightened on her teacup. Her mind raced as she considered her options. Should she confront him? Call for help? Caspian and the other hunters were likely far into the woods by now, and if this man was caught, he could easily feign innocence. Still, over the course of the three days since she'd been watching, sometimes hunters called for extra equipment in the case of a bowstring snapping or a knife being duller than expected. If that was Caspian's bow he'd sabotaged, who knew what would happen?

Especially, she thought, her blood going cold, since Lyanna was supposed to send someone to try to murder him tomorrow. But with everything changing the way it's been changing, what if she tries to kill him today?

Crisseda stepped back into the pavilion just then, a tray of fresh pastries in her hands. She froze when she saw Elara's tense expression. "Miss Elara? Is something wrong?"

Elara set her teacup down carefully. "Crisseda, do you recognize that man by the equipment?" She nodded discreetly toward the figure.

Crisseda followed her gaze, squinting her eyes to try to see him better. Her brow furrowed. "I don't know him, miss. He doesn't look like one of the knights or hunters."

Elara nodded, her mind already formulating a plan. "Isn't Edris the one assigned to look after me today?"

"Yes, miss."

"Bring him to me."

"Right away, miss."

As Crisseda hurried off, Elara kept her eyes trained on the saboteur. The man finished his work and rose to his feet, glancing around to ensure no one had seen him. Elara held her breath, shrinking back into the shadows of her pavilion and staring forward at the expansive treeline, hoping to appear like a lovesick woman who couldn't bear to be apart from her lover. The man's gaze swept over the camp but didn't linger on her. Satisfied, he melted into the treeline and disappeared.

Elara exhaled slowly, her heart pounding. She didn't know what the man had done to the crossbow, but she had no doubt it was meant to harm someone.

Minutes later, Crisseda returned with Edris at her heels. His expression was sharp and alert as he strode into the pavilion, bowing to her before he got straight to business. "Crisseda said you spotted something suspicious."

Elara quickly recounted what she had seen, pointing toward the pile of weapons. "He was tampering with a crossbow. I think it might be Caspian's."

Edris's eyes darkened. "I'll check it out," he said curtly. He slipped past the lingering footmen and darting maids, his movements so smooth and unassuming that he seemed to vanish into the chaos of the camp.

Elara waited, her hands twisting in her lap as the seconds stretched on. When Edris returned, his expression was grim.

"It was the Duke's crossbow," he confirmed. "The bowstring had been spelled. If he'd fired it, the string would have snapped, triggering some kind of magic. Most likely something capable of causing serious injury. Do you know what that man looked like, Miss. Elara?"

Elara's stomach churned, but she shook her head. "I...he was too far away, and it's drizzling. He had dark hair and was wearing hunting clothes. He even went back into the woods when he was done. I think I'd recognize him, though, if I see him again."

Edris nodded. "I'll send someone into the hunting grounds to tell His Grace what happened. He'll probably want you to identify the man, so keep an eye out."

Elara nodded. "Thank you, Edris. If you find out anything else, please let me know."

"Of course, miss." 

Edris inclined his head, his expression unreadable, and disappeared as swiftly as he had come. Elara watched the bustle of the camp with a new sense of unease. The reality of someone tampering with Caspian's crossbow—and using magic, no less—settled heavily in her chest. 

Was that Lyanna's new attempt at trying to kill Caspian or was it someone else altogether? Maybe it was the same person who'd tried to kill Elara on her way to the capital. Those documents the leader of the Sons of Lyrel had handed over said it was suspected someone in the inner court was behind it all.

Crisseda, sensing her unease, stepped closer. "Don't worry, Miss Elara, Sir Edris is as good at sniffing out danger as Chancellor Kyran is at solving problems. The worst of it is over. His Grace won't be harmed. If you feel uncomfortable, don't forget I'm here with you. I might not be able to fight as well as Sir Edris, but I can scream so loud, any attackers will run away just to prevent ear damage."

Elara gave a watery smile and reached for her teacup, though her fingers felt stiff and clumsy. "Thanks, Crisseda."

Crisseda nodded, her lips pressing into a firm line. She busied herself by pouring another cup of tea and setting out the pastries, the gesture a small comfort amidst the tension.

As the minutes stretched into hours, Elara found her gaze flitting between the treeline and the bustling camp. The hunting party was still out, and with each passing moment, her nerves wound tighter. She tried to distract herself by flipping through her journal again, but her thoughts kept circling back to the man in the muted tones and his deliberate sabotage.

Caspian's decision to team up with Elric, a skilled commoner, had already stirred resentment among the nobles. Maybe this hadn't been an attempt to kill Caspian at all, but rather an attempt to humiliate Caspian in front of the nobles.

The foolish son of a lowborn dancer chose a lowborn hunter, and look what became of him.

Perhaps achieving something like that was the goal.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. Her head snapped up, and she craned her neck to peer toward the camp's entrance. The hunting party was returning.

They emerged from the treeline in small groups, the riders' expressions a mix of triumph and exhaustion. Caspian and Elric rode together at the front, their horses moving in perfect rhythm. Both men looked unharmed, though Caspian's usual stoicism seemed tinged with something sharper.

Elara rose to her feet, smoothing her skirts as she stepped to the edge of the pavilion. Caspian's gaze locked on her immediately, and she saw the slight furrow of his brow—a question, unspoken but clear.

He dismounted his horse, said a few words to Elric who was being fawned over by his pregnant wife, and approached Elara.

"Edris's message was brief. What happened?"

Elara stepped closer to him, keeping her voice just as low. "Someone tampered with your crossbow," she said, glancing around to ensure they weren't overheard. "I saw a man by the equipment earlier. He was working on it—changing something with the strings. Edris checked it and said it had been spelled. If you'd used it, it could have seriously injured you."

Caspian's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he absorbed her words. "Do you know who it was?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't see his face clearly, but he had dark hair and was wearing hunting clothes. He disappeared into the woods when he finished. I might recognize him if I see him again."

Caspian looked at the hunters behind him, some of them still emerging from the woods. "Is he here right now?"

Elara shook her head. She'd been watching every hunter, waiting to see him. "As soon as I see him, I'll let you know."

His expression was cloudy. "I wouldn't hold your breath. If he was able to perform magic that not only kept others from paying attention to him but also to sabotage my bow, that means he wasn't an ordinary Mage. He probably used those woods as a means to escape. He won't be coming back."

Elara was disappointed at that, but something he'd said caught her attention. "I'm sorry, did you say he was using magic that kept others from paying attention to him?"

Caspian nodded. "Edris said he questioned every maid, squire, footman, and noble lady that was loitering around at the time you saw the man; no one else noticed him. The fact that Crisseda saw him, too, means it wasn't a cloaking spell but rather a spell meant to dampen his presence. It may not have worked on you because you're an Otherworlder. Otherworlders are famously powerful Mages."