Chapter 136: CRESTWOOD IN THE AFTER

“This is not a good idea,” Lucien grumbled, his hands interlocked with Isabella’s.

Isabella giggled, holding him tight as they walked. “It's the best we could come up with.”

“You could come up with.” He countered, sighing for the twentieth time, that minute.

Isabella shook her head. “It's the most effective.” She countered. “Besides, you couldn't come up with any.”

She looked breathtaking in her blue gown, which was strapped loosely to her body, her blonde hair falling backwards and covering a part of her face.

Behind them, guards kept their distance, allowing the couple their own private time.

“Yeah, rig,t,” Lucien grunted. “If I knew this was the best, trust me, I wouldn't have agreed.”

Isabella giggled again. She was more than satisfied that they were going on with her plan.

She'd been pestering Lucien for reports, candid reports of the ordinary people living in Crestwood.

Not reports of officials or other people, who'd been giving fake updates.

The effect of the war was not lost on her. They had to make an appropriate arrangement; otherwise, families would suffer.

“Have a location in mind?” Lucuen asked resignedly. He’d agreed to Isabella’s ludicrous plan. He'd better make the most of it.

“Uhmmm.” Isabella scrunched her nose. A habit she'd picked up whenever she was in deep thought.

“How about the most ordinary of places?”

Luciem frowned, hesitating. “That's not a good idea.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

“I know what you're thinking, but it's not.”

“Care to explain?” She pressed.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look around us, Izzy. At your insistence, we came out with barely any protection.”

Isabella nodded, a frown still on her face, still not seeing the point and waiting for Lucien's big reveal, but it never came.

“You're saying we need to be armed, before we meet them?” She asked for confirmation.

Lucien hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. “They're the angriest. Shops ruined, according to reports. Seeing you would only fuel that anger.”

“Ahh.” Her eyes lit up in understanding as she drawled. “How long was it gonna take you to tell it to me straight up?”

“Trust me, this was not what I wanted.” He shook his head, rubbing his palms.

Isabella nodded, pursing her lips. “Of course.” She grabbed her dress, her brain swirling with lots of thoughts. “Well, they're wrong. I'm here to stay, and I intend to correct every aspect of that misconception.”

Her expression was challenging as she bit her lips. “And I'll start by marching off to see them by myself. You can tag along if you please.”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Lucien spun. “I'm not the enemy here, Izzy.”

“I never said you were,” Isabella grunted, her voice stiff.

Lucien closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again. He could tell a million and one thoughts were running through her mind, and she was going to act on every one of them.

“Where do you wanna start from?” His voice was loving and calm.

This time around, it was her turn to be taken by surprise. “You're coming?” She turned to him.

Lucien shrugged. “Can't leave the absolute love of my life to the wolves.”

Her cheeks turned red in an instant, unable to hide his effect on her. “Thank you.” She blushed, her fingers brushing his.

Lucien's words always had their effects on her, either good or bad, and now, this had made her day.

“Where'd you like to start from?” He nudged, taking her fingers in his.

“The whole city, Lucien.” Her voice held some determination. “I want to see the city, not parade through it.”

Lucien wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. “We are in the city, Izzy.” His eyes held worry as he looked from side to side.

They'd walked to the front of the market. It was quieter than usual. “It's not too late,” Lucien whispered, seemingly clinging to the last semblance of reason.

It would do them a whole lot of good to turn back now. He could sense the hostility that would arrive the moment they set foot into the city.

Isabella chuckled knowingly. “I guess it's too late.” She said, stepping into the gates that divided their worlds, before stopping.

Entire buildings stood abandoned, floors blackened by fire. From where she stood, all she could feel was heaviness.

She'd often come to the market as a little girl, away from Lord Harlan and his family, any time she felt overwhelmed, and now, she couldn't recognise the place that had once been her safe space.

Her eyes moved to the blacksmith's shop. The same place where she would stand at a distance, admiring his works, and wishing she had one for herself. How the shop still bore scorch marks around its entrance, the roof out.

But that was not the end. She could see children of Elias's age, sitting behind their mothers instead of running around, and keeping the market lively.

“This was not in the reports.” She said to Lucien quietly, holding his hands for support, afraid that she would fall if she left him.

Her voice held some accusatory tone to its tinge, but it was surely not directed at Lucien.

Lucien, however, felt compelled to respond. He could feel the guilt eating her up. “I guess the majors have not gotten to this part of the region.”

Isabella shook her head, clearly not buying it. “That's impossible.” She whispered back. Her eyes ran through the market, moving through every stall, trying to memorise the faces of the women, their sadness etched in her memory.

The already silent t market became silent. The woman whose face she'd just memorised glanced right back up at her while arranging her vegetables.

She paused, her hands hanging in the air, recognition dawning on her face. Her neighbour, a merchant, whom she had been talking to, followed her gaze, the shock evident on his face.

Then, one after the other, the market fell entirely silent, the voices that made it distinct from a graveyard disappearing, with everyone looking her way.

“We should go.” Lucien's voice sounded right behind her, his grip on her hand stronger.

“No.” Isabella mirrored his fierceness, deciding to stay.

“That's the moonlit queen.” A voice whispered from the tiny crowd. She looked around, trying to figure out who had said so, but was met with blank stares from strangers who had judged her already.

“Funny how you should call her a queen.” Another one countered.

The voice was low, but loud enough for Isabella to hear.

“Izzy.” Lucien's voice held a certain stiffness to it.

“No.” Isabella maintained. “We leave now, and we prove them right. A queen does not run away from her own people.”

“A queen does not get disrespected either.” Lucien countered.

Isabella sighed. She could feel their sorrow. “Look around.” She whispered to Lucien. “They've lost all they ever had. I would disrespect the queen too if I were in their shoes.”

She stepped forward, untangling her hands from Lucien's, stepping forward to the merchant.

As she moved, an elderly man whom she had not seen moved away from her, stumbling, splitting open the sack he was carrying.

Unconsciously, Isabella bent to help, but he moved away, snatching the potatoes she'd picked up for him.

“Don't.” His voice was raspy. “Don't touch my goods.” He looked at her like she was filth.

The hurt on Isabella's face finally showed. “I..I…” She stammered, unable to find the words she was about to say.

“I was only trying to help.” She finally whispered.

“Yeah, right.” Sarcasm dripped from the old man. “The same story you've been saying till eternity. Let me guess.” He glanced up at her. “The war. You were only trying to help as well, yeah?”

Confusion showed on Isabella's face. “What do you mean?”

“Lord Hale was trying to kill us, and you decided to help?” The old man pressed.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Lucien trying to restrain himself. She needed to handle it herself.

“Is that what you think?” She shook her head. She needed to rephrase the question. “Nah, I know that's exactly what you think. Damien Hale must have already had the narrative that he needed to save the throne.”

She shook her head in pity at their ignorance. “He was going to sacrifice you all to achieve his aim. But yeah, Isabella Thorne has the moonlit blood; she should take the blame.”

She turned around, ready to leave them. There was no saving a people who already had their hearts against her.

“W…was that what happened?” A timid voice sounded from behind the stalls.

Her heart softened as she turned in the direction of the voice. “Yes. And it was either the battle we had or him wiping away the commoners.”

She squinted, trying to find the voice that had just spoken. “And if there's any consolation, we are all alive. We only have to deal with burnt stalls and leaked roofs, just for a little while.” She giggled, trying to make light of the situation.

Just as she turned around to face Lucien, someone gave applause. Then another, and another, and soon the whole market erupted in a loud applause.

She grinned, facing Lucien.

“You did that.” He murmured, giving her a soft kiss.

“Yeah, I did that.” She echoed, smiling widely.