Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

Elara blinked. She hadn't stopped to think that the reason why she'd been able to see the man was because she was an Otherworlder. Though, now that she thought about it, no one around seemed to notice what the man was doing. There was a group of palace squires keeping their eyes on the weapons cache for the exact purpose of making sure it wasn't tampered with. Even Crisseda, when she had returned with the snacks, hadn't looked over at the obviously suspicious man despite the fact she walked right by him.

"Otherworlders are anomalies here," Caspian went on, contemplative. "You're the first one I've met, even after all my loops, but I've learned some about you. Even before their powers manifest, they're resistant to certain types of magic. Spells that influence perception or dampen presence often falter in your vicinity because you're not fully tethered to this world's natural order."

Elara processed that, her fingers tightening around the edge of her skirt. "So, I noticed him because my… otherworldly-ness, like, fizzled his spell out?"

"Exactly," Caspian replied, his lips twitching a bit to fight off a smile. "That part about Otherworlders isn't well known, though, so I'd keep that to yourself. I only found out about it from a hidden book in the palace library when I was young, in my seventh loop."

Curious, Elara asked, "You know, I've always wondered, when you start these new loops, how old are you? Do you start from the beginning every time?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes I'm a child, sometimes I'm a teenager, sometimes I'm an adult. So, it's very random. But I'm never younger than ten, the age I was when my mother drank the poison to save my life." He smiled, but it was not the small smile that tugged on Elara's heartstrings. This one was entirely filled to the brim with bitterness. "No matter how many times I repeat this life, my mother is the one person I can never see again."

Elara's chest tightened, but before she could fix her mouth to offer him any type of comfort, he had shaken off the bitterness and said, "I'm going to say my goodbyes to Elric, and then we'll head off." He looked over at the huntsman fawning over his wife. 

She smiled. "You seem pretty fond of him."

Caspian nodded once. "He's a good man. A rarity here in the capital." He turned to look at her. "He wasn't in the books?"

She shook her head. "Valtren's Bounty Hunt has completely changed from how it was in the novel. There was never an event for you all to team up, just like there wasn't an event where the women participated or a Centaur appeared."

"So he's new. An anomaly like you."

Elara's lips quirked into a wry smile. "I wouldn't go that far. He's not exactly a world-hopping Otherworlder."

"No," Caspian agreed, "but his presence changes the story." His eyes narrowed in thought. "You say there was no mention of Elric in the novel despite the fact he was good enough to take second place after me. I'm quite certain someone so talented would've immediately caught my attention—mine and my brother's. Now that I think of it...in all my other loops...I don't believe he was there..." His eyes slid over to hers. "There must have been some other deviation. Perhaps something we did on the way here...changed something?"

Elara blinked at him and let her gaze carry over to the man where they lingered for a moment before they returned to Caspian's silver eyes. She was trying very hard to remember what they had done on their trip here that may have triggered an event that may have led to a man who had never appeared in the novels or in any of Caspian's loops showing up.

"Do you think someone placed him here to get you?" she asked.

Caspian turned to look at Elric once more, considering. "I don't think so. After so long repeating this life, I've grown to become pretty good at reading people. Elric puts on no pretenses. He speaks his mind and is fair and rational in his reasoning. He reminds me of you in that way." 

Taken aback as she was, all she could do was blink fast and say, "Oh, um...well, if you're sure..."

He looked at her and smiled. "We'll talk more away from all the prying eyes and ears. Just let me say my goodbyes first."

Unable to help herself, Elara watched him the whole time, her heart racing in her chest. Because in all her life, no one had ever said something so nice to her before. She'd been told she had good looks and occasionally, her family told her she was funny. But no one had ever told her she had good character before. No one had ever told her she was upright and fair, and rational.

It made her wonder what else he thought of her. She felt, deep inside her heart, that the words he would use to describe her would all be words she had never heard before.

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The suns finally rose for the final day of Valtren's Bounty Hunt, their golden rays cutting through the biting chill of the early morning. Elara stood beside Caspian in the pavilion that she would be sitting in the entire day, both of them watching the trees and their naked branches and the cold, dead grass that rattled on a passing wind.

"Be careful today," she warned lowly, keeping her eyes forward. "In the novel, the attempt on your life today was made by a royal steward, but everything's been changing lately. He may not go after you with a dagger this time; it could be an arrow or poison or it may not happen at all. It might not even be a steward this time." She sighed, a puff of air snaking out around her. "Just stay on guard."

Caspian adjusted the cuff of his hunting jacket, his movements calm and deliberate. "Noted."

She frowned, not entirely reassured by his composed demeanor. She turned and placed her hands on his lapels, straightening them out for him. "Caspian, I'm serious. Things are changing so fast it's difficult to keep up with it all."

"Elara, I'll be careful. You've given me plenty to work with." He paused, the faintest smile playing on his lips. "But I appreciate your concern."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Just don't get too caught up in winning today."

"Winning isn't the goal," he replied seriously. "Staying alive is."

She stepped back from him then, letting out another sigh as she did. Caspian was a very hard person to argue with. 

"I'll leave Chirovan with you today. I think you'll find him rather entertaining company, especially around all the sharp-tongued nobles."

Elara smiled. "I do enjoy Sir Chirovan's company."

Caspian stared at her for a long time, the light humor of his eyes completely gone as his silver eyes assessed her for...something. She stared back, growing increasingly confused with every second that passed. After long moments of waiting for him to say something to no avail, she asked, "What's wrong?"

He looked at her for a while longer. "Nothing," was all he said, before turning away and heading straight over to his horse.

She watched him go, her eyebrows knitted in confusion the entire time.

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The pavilion was set up in the same secluded spot as before, overlooking the bustling camp and the edge of the hunting grounds. Crisseda had already prepared tea and pastries, and the comforts served to soothe Elara's nerves as the day unfolded. Chirovan leaned against a post nearby, his armor catching the sunlight as he watched the treeline with a practiced ease.

"You're going to wear a hole in the skirts of your gown with all your fidgeting, Miss. Elara," Chirovan teased, his tone light.

Elara rolled her eyes. "Can't help it. Besides, even if that's true, you're not supposed to point it out. You're supposed to be making me feel better, not hyper-fixating on my nervous habits."

"I am making you feel better. Look at you—smiling already." He grinned, his easy charm doing its job. "Besides, I don't think His Grace would appreciate me letting you sit here in a state of perpetual worry."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't deny that his presence was a comfort. "Do you think today will go smoothly?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

"Of course, miss," Crisseda answered immediately, leaning over to pour her another cup of tea. "You already know His Grace is strong enough to take down a Centaur by himself if the need arises. There's nothing alive that's a match for His Grace, especially in the hunting grounds. Be at ease, Miss. Elara."

"I must agree with Crisseda; Grand Duke Caspian is not an easy man to go toe-to-toe with, let alone beat. Five years at war, more attacks than any of us can count by man and by beast, and His Grace never lost a fight. Never so much as broke a sweat. Do as your maid says and be at ease."

Elara smiled faintly at their reassurances, though the tightness in her chest remained. "He's strong, not invincible," she said softly, taking a sip of tea to let it steady her nerves. 

Chirovan waved a hand dismissively, his sharp eyes fixed on the treeline. "Desperation makes people sloppy and anyone fighting His Grace has to be desperate. I wouldn't go up against the man if you paid me twice the amount of gold they're offering to the winner of the Hunt. If they try anything, they'll regret it."

Crisseda, ever the optimist, added, "And even if something were to happen, His Grace has the best knights in Isyndor watching over him. Nothing will slip past them."

Elara forced a smile, not wanting to let her unease dampen their spirits. She set her teacup down and leaned back in her chair, trying to focus on the peaceful scene before her. The suns were higher now, casting a delightfully warm glow over the otherwise dreary scenery of the camp.

The minutes passed easily, the quiet conversation between her, Chirovan, and Crisseda was filled with lighthearted banter. She couldn't help but find both of them quite impressive. Crisseda's ability to look on the bright side and his ability to joke even in the face of potential danger was both impressive and oddly comforting. Elara found herself laughing along with Crisseda at one of his exaggerated tales.

"And so," Chirovan was saying, his grin wide, "there I was, face-to-face with the beast, bare ass naked, armed with nothing but a stick and a wheel of cheese—"

A sharp cry from the direction of the pavilion where the noble ladies were sitting cut him off.

Chirovan's grin vanished in an instant, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. Elara stood, her heart pounding as she strained to see what was happening. More cries followed, accompanied by the unmistakable clang of steel on steel.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her attempts at holding it steady.

Chirovan's expression darkened. "Trouble." He stepped in front of her, shielding her from the view of the camp. "Crisseda, stay close to Miss. Elara, it'll be easier to protect the both of you that way."

Elara moved to peer around him, her blood running cold as she spotted the source of the commotion. A group of armed attackers had emerged from the woods, their movements swift and coordinated. They cut through the camp with terrifying efficiency, their weapons glinting in the sunlight.

"What are they doing?" Elara whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

"I'm not sure, but they're wearing the colors of the anti-royal faction," Chirovan said grimly.

Elara's stomach dropped. In the second novel, Lyanna Orinthal and King Alaric make a combined effort to wipe out the anti-royal faction once and for all after the continuous attacks made on their lives and the lives of those serving them within the palace. 

Yet, no matter what Chirovan was saying, it still made no sense.

Because the attackers weren't moving toward the royal pavilion. They were heading for her.

"If they're here for the king and queen, why are they coming this way?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Chirovan followed her gaze, his jaw tightening. "Damn it." He turned to Crisseda. "Get her to the storage tent—now."