“I-it’s just taking a while to heal! It’ll get better! What would an assassin know?!”

Stunned by her devastating suggestion, Francis shouted at Isabel.

She tilted one corner of her mouth upward and nodded as though she understood.

“Well, if you’d rather die of sepsis than live without a leg, that’s your choice, Count.”

“Your Highness, don’t listen to that assassin! She’s trying to cut off my leg to leave you helpless, since I’m your closest aide…”

“Francis.”

He flinched at the low voice.

Then Erick told him the truth.

“This woman is not an assassin.”

“…B-but…”

Despite her bound wrists, Isabel was watching the exchange with a calm, untroubled expression.

It was hardly the demeanor of a prisoner.

Then who was she, and on what grounds was she saying such things?

Reading the bewilderment and frustration on Francis’s face, Isabel spoke again.

“I’m a former member of the Elias Mercenary Company, stranded here just like you. Along with wilderness survival skills, I have some medical knowledge.”

For a moment, Francis looked surprised. Then his face went pale.

“Ah…”

He, too, knew the Elias Mercenary Company’s reputation.

He knew they sometimes trained under such brutal conditions that their lives were at stake.

And if she truly had belonged to that company, then what she said would carry considerable credibility.

He had to choose between death and losing a leg.

Watching Francis look as though he might burst into tears, Isabel continued in a calmer voice.

“I once amputated a comrade’s arm when his injury worsened under similar circumstances. However…”

Isabel looked at Erick.

Arms folded, he watched her as though waiting for her to continue.

His gaze was cold, almost as though he were appraising her.

There were rumors that the imperial family was full of ruthless people.

That those who lacked ruthlessness often died young.

She needed a way to prove she was harmless as an outsider, someone who did not belong to him.

“If I can find some medicinal herbs to reduce the swelling and drain the pus, I may be able to treat his leg without amputating it.”

Her voice was calm, carrying a hint of confidence.

“…!”

Francis, who had been shielding his leg as though his world had collapsed, straightened again.

Then he addressed Isabel politely, his expression desperate, as though he had found a lifeline.

“I-is that true?”

Isabel was still looking at Erick.

She had offered a solution to Francis’s injury, but she knew the decision belonged to the prince.

Would he accept her help or refuse it?

“…”

In the darkness, Erick’s silver hair stirred in the breeze.

Then his red lips moved, and a cold, emotionless voice emerged.

“I don’t like cunning creatures that hide their intentions. Especially…”

Isabel’s fingertips twitched.

“In a place this dark.”

Night birds called from the undergrowth.

Had he realized why she had opened with the worst possible outcome, saying Francis’s leg would have to be amputated?

A play needed a crisis to draw the audience into its cl*max.

“But you…”

Erick stared into her blue eyes as though assessing the worth of an item laid out on a stall.

In the brief silence, Isabel’s heart pounded.

His fathomless violet gaze made her bound wrists ache.

“…Come with me.”

His voice carried both acceptance and command.

Relief left Isabel feeling drained, but her reply was composed.

“Very well.”

Erick turned and walked into the darkness.

Even on a deserted island in the wilderness, his broad back retained its dignity and authority.

It was admirable in one sense, yet somehow pointless and out of place in another.

Isabel held her bound hands out to Francis.

“Untie these.”

* * *

The waves were growing rougher. It might rain soon.

On the way to the cave where they were sheltering, the wind howled like a scream.

She knew humans were more frightening than the wilderness.

Yet humans could not survive without one another.

That was an inescapable law of survival.

They passed a stone wall someone had built as a makeshift windbreak and entered the cave. A small fire burned dimly within.

The people gathered around it rose at once.

There were four in all.

The first to catch her eye was a young woman with brown hair.

Perhaps twenty years old, with pale skin and gray-blue eyes.

She was pretty, but dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.

Even so, the moment she saw Francis, dimples appeared in her cheeks.

“Brother.”

“Celine.”

Celine Etron. She was Francis’s younger sister.

Beside her, three men who appeared to be knights raised their hands in salute to Erick.

Their leather waistcoats and boots were scuffed and damaged, but the material looked expensive.

“Your Highness.”

Isabel recognized the man in the center, with his reddish-brown hair.

Leonhard Belsel, deputy commander of the Tulip Knights’ First Company.

A man whose colorful romantic exploits were well known in high society.

She assumed the two less conspicuous men flanking him were also members of the Tulip Knights.

Naturally, all their eyes were on Isabel.

They had never expected anyone besides themselves to be stranded on this deserted island.

Francis introduced her while Erick walked past them, settled against a rock farther inside, and watched.

“Let me introduce her. This is… Countess Ester.”

“Countess Chester. My husband is a merchant. I was on my way to Oden at his request when I fell from a merchant ship and washed ashore here.”

As Isabel corrected her name, Leonhard’s gaze softened.

“Oh, how terrible. I’m sorry you’ve suffered such an ordeal, my lady.”

At the pitying look he gave her, as though she were a helpless woman stranded by some tragic accident, Francis cleared his throat and continued.

“Apparently, she belonged to the Elias Mercenary Company before her marriage.”

The knights stirred at his explanation.

A woman who had served with the Elias Mercenary Company was a rarity.

One of the knights spoke as though something had come back to him.

“Now that you mention it, wasn’t there a rumor about a female company commander from Elias who killed her superior during some internal dispute… then married a noble after being expelled?”

Isabel’s fingertips twitched.

“…”

A sharp glint of suspicion crossed Leonhard’s eyes, which until a moment ago had regarded her with a knight’s indulgence toward a helpless woman.

Celine frowned. Francis looked briefly at Isabel in dismay, then regained his composure at a look from Erick.

“That isn’t what matters now. We should discuss what to do next…”

As Francis spoke, Isabel slowly bent down.

Then she picked up a fist-sized stone from beside her feet.

To her, these people were simply novices who could barely manage to feed and clothe themselves, rather than handsome nobles and knights from the capital.

When she picked up the stone, Celine gasped, covered her mouth, and stepped back. The knights recoiled as well.

The end of the stone in Isabel’s dry hand was quite sharp.

But they all knew that a single stone would be no match for them, so no one moved to stop her.

Giving them a cold look, Isabel strode toward the wall.

Then she stopped and began drawing something with the stone’s pointed end.