Chapter 237: I Don’t Accept This Way

She felt an indescribable pang in her heart. This was the first time in her life he had stepped forward to protect her.

Isolde couldn't hide. The enemy forces were fierce, and with the martial artists joining the battle, their morale had surged. As marshal, she was a prime target. She wasn't wearing armor, making her wounds easier to bandage. She tore a piece of her skirt, wrapping it around her worst wounds before grabbing her whip and charging forward.

The martial artists were exhilarated to see a woman fight so fiercely. To them, the attackers were weak and easily defeated. Though Doug and Kolton were highly skilled, they were outnumbered. Two fists couldn't block dozens of attacks, no matter how strong they were. The sheer number of enemies meant they could be worn down over time, even if skill alone wouldn't secure victory.

Because of this, two or three fighters focused on Isolde. After regaining her composure, Isolde fought back with renewed strength. But it was becoming a battle of endurance—a major disadvantage for her.

High above, Kamari watched from the platform, already planning his next move. He was confident of victory, but wondered what came next. Sending out his troops might be necessary, but not yet.

After careful consideration, he gave an order: “Bring Ms. Charlie here.”

Ashley was soon escorted to the platform. Dressed in plain white robes, she slowly ascended the wooden stairs. She bowed humbly. “Your Highness!”

Kamari glanced at her, then took her hand, his face softening into a kindly smile. “Sit down.”

Ashley withdrew her hand, casting a brief, indifferent glance at the battle below. A flicker of mockery crossed her eyes before vanishing. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Kamari patted her hand. “Are you still holding a grudge against me?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Ashley replied, her expression calm and distant, a subtle coldness lingering in her poised features.

Kamari sighed. “I know I wronged you. You are clever. If only you were a man!”

Ashley remained silent, her head lowered, her hands hidden in her sleeves, fingers brushing against a cold dagger.

Kamari’s voice remained gentle. “Tell me, after this victory, should we attack or defend?”

Ashley slowly lifted her gaze. “King Kamari, have I ever asked you for anything?”

Kamari’s eyes turned cold. “I have already made a promise.” He had promised to make her a consort once things settled.

Ashley smiled faintly. “A consort is still just a concubine. Do you think I would ever be satisfied with that?” She might accept such a position if she had no achievements, but having helped him rise, she would never settle for being a mere concubine. She wanted to rule beside him as queen—only the first step. Her true goal was to become like the legendary Queen Dowager.

Kamari’s eyes flashed with anger. “You know I already have a wife.”

Ashley looked at him calmly. “If you want to achieve great things, your wife must die. This is my only condition. If you refuse, you can kill me, but I will never settle for less.”

Kamari stared sharply, rage surging within him. He’d never suspected Ashley’s ambition. He thought making her a consort was a great honor, yet she refused to be a concubine, demanding he kill his own wife. In the past, he would have ordered her execution without hesitation. But after witnessing her incredible foresight, he knew she was key to his victory. Not even ten advisors could compare to her. Yet his wife had borne him three children. They had been together since their youth, she had always been gentle and virtuous. He couldn’t bear to do it.

“King Kamari, either kill me or kill your wife!” Ashley threw down a cold dagger, its blade clanging on the ground.

Kamari stared at the dagger, its cold glint reflecting in his eyes. She had come prepared.

“King Kamari, you should know that without me, there will be no more gunpowder,” Ashley said with a cold smile. “I am not a servant. I am your accomplice. You have no choice. Even if you kill Isolde today, who will come next? Garrett? The Marquis of Eldermere? Harrison? The Marquis of Greystone? Any one of them would be enough, and you wouldn’t be able to stop them. The Royal Court has already decided to eliminate you. They won’t let you go. Without me, you will die.”

Her arrogant and fearless tone, instead of fueling his anger, made Kamari’s fury slowly fade. He calmed down. Matters of love and family had never been his priority. Their years of marriage meant nothing compared to the weight of an empire.

At most, once the undertaking was accomplished, he would grant her a posthumous title as queen, a tribute for bearing him three children.

With this thought, Kamari spoke in a deep voice, “Summon the princess consort.”

Ashley smiled and leaned against the railing, watching the battlefield. Isolde was cornered, with nowhere left to run. One decisive strike, and her head would remain in the palace.

A figure in blue leaped forward, sword aimed at Isolde’s heart. She had no way to dodge; she was backed against the wall.

The sound of the blade piercing flesh rang out. Ashley watched blood splatter, blooming like crimson camellias. She felt a pang of regret. It wasn’t Isolde who had fallen.

Before her, Geoffrey slowly collapsed. At the moment the blade pierced him, his own sword plunged into his attacker’s chest. He had protected his daughter, the child he and Prunella had left behind.

Doug, Kolton, Harlan, and Anthony saw what happened and immediately leaped forward, shielding him from the relentless onslaught of the blue-clad assassins.

Isolde saw only blood. Her mind went blank as she watched him sink into the growing pool of blood. She dropped to her knees, frantically grasping the sword lodged in his chest. Blood, warm and thick, spilled onto her fingers. Frantically, she pressed her hands over the wound, her voice trembling. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s nothing. You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine.”

Geoffrey’s head hung heavily, pain radiating from his chest. He wasn’t sure if the wound or the ache in his heart hurt more. Watching her flustered and helpless, he wanted to touch her face just once. Then he realized he had never held her, never truly looked at her. She really looked like Prunella, uncannily so.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. The air was thick with the scent of blood, and the sounds of battle echoed in his ears. Sixteen years of father and daughter, tied together by fate, and only now could he truly look at her and offer a heartfelt apology.

Isolde shook her head wildly, tears streaming down her cheeks, though she didn’t feel them. She wasn’t overwhelmed by sorrow or grief; she was rejecting this way of parting. She had sworn never to acknowledge him. She refused to let things end like this. “Don’t you dare think you can atone like this!” Her voice trembled with fury and desperation. “I don’t accept it! I don’t want you dying for me! We were never at that point. Never!”

Frantically, she fumbled in her sleeve pocket, pulling out several small bottles of medicine. Her hands trembled as she searched for the “Consumption Pills,” the only thing that could save him. But there were none.

She panicked. Seeing the fading light in his eyes, she trembled so violently that even her lips quivered.