Her Graceful War Song novel Chapter 1237

In the end, Malcolm left the room. As he passed through the main hall, he saw Carissa sitting by the fire. He didn't want to face her, but for some reason, his feet moved of their own accord, carrying him inside.

A thought struck him—if Carissa weren't here watching over the situation, he would have forcibly taken Gerald away. Even if it meant angering Salvador, he couldn't allow his father to endure this kind of humiliation.

"It's late. Why haven't you returned to your residence, Lord Malcolm?" Carissa asked, her voice steady.

Malcolm looked utterly deflated, like a wilted flower after the first frost. All the strength had drained from him. He had never felt such fear before, the dread of stepping out into the unknown, of facing what awaited him once he left these walls.

He remembered his arrival tonight, thinking he had prepared for a negotiation, only to find that Carissa hadn't intended to profit from it at all.

As the Civil Minister, Malcolm was in charge of many officials' careers. Over the years, he had seen countless people scheme and grovel for power, often to the point of utter disgrace.

But Carissa didn't seem the least bit interested in taking advantage of the situation to promote a few of her own people. She couldn't be so naive as to ignore the king's wariness of the Hell Monarch. Having allies in court was crucial. If trouble arose, at least someone would be there to speak on their behalf.

But despite Malcolm's whirlwind of thoughts, Gerald's pale, makeup-streaked face and neatly folded floral clothes kept appearing in his mind. It tormented him, nearly driving him mad.

"Commander Sinclair, will you be staying here tonight?" he asked, making conversation to avoid the silence.

"Yes. I won't be leaving," Carissa replied, her voice calm.

"But you could return to your estate," Malcolm said, his gaze briefly shifting away from her, unable to meet her eyes.

Carissa glanced at him. "If I leave and someone takes advantage of their power to drag someone away, the guards in the Capital Guard won't be able to stop them," she said flatly.

A higher-ranking official could easily crush anyone beneath them—especially one with much higher authority.

Malcolm's shoulders slumped. He had indeed considered such an option.

"But it's not just you, Lord Malcolm. There are others watching from the outside as well," Carissa said, her smile sharp with irony. "No one wants their family name dragged through the mud, so they're all eager to pull people out of the Capital Guard headquarters.

"However, I'm following His Majesty's orders. Unless His Majesty himself gives a command, no one will be leaving. As for Lord Gerald, I'm only allowing him to stay in the side hall because of his age and frailty, and because the prison is cold and drafty."

Her insight into his thoughts left Malcolm momentarily embarrassed, making him falter.

After a long pause, he quietly said. "Thank you, Commander Sinclair. If you think it's dirty, I'll have the furniture replaced once my father leaves in a few days."

Dirty?