"Sir, I saw him—riding a swift horse in that direction." Elliott pointed out the window.
The soldiers immediately moved to leave, but before crossing the threshold, the sharpest among them turned back. "Elliott, you're not lying to us, are you? And why are you soaked? How could you even see anything?"
Elliott merely smiled, then leaned in to whisper something into the officer's ear. The man burst into laughter. "Ah, you sly dog! So you're a man of pleasures too? Why not let your lady come out so we can have a look? Though with those blind eyes, how would you even know if she's pretty?"
Elliott chuckled. "Sir, what woman would marry a blind man? No need to see—I'm sure she's no beauty, lest she offend your noble sight."
The soldiers found this reasoning sound and finally relented. "Alright, we've got duties to attend to. You there, hiding in the hay—tend well to your blind husband! Let him learn the taste of a woman's touch." With crude laughter, they departed, leaving Amelia flushed with indignation as she watched Elliott approach.
Seeing him begin to undress, Amelia tensed. "Elliott, what are you doing?"
He said nothing, simply finishing dressing himself before replying, "Would you prefer my help changing, or shall you stay in those wet clothes?"
Amelia's face burned. "I would rather die than betray my betrothed."
Elliott gave a bitter smile and sat beside her. "Give me your hand."
She hesitated.
"I'll channel qi to warm you. Otherwise, you'll fall ill."
Assured of his intentions, Amelia finally extended her hand. The moment Elliott grasped it, he nearly lost composure—her skin was so soft it sent his thoughts spiraling.
Amelia noticed his distraction, her cheeks flushing deeper. "Elliott, hurry! I'm freezing."
Clearing his throat, he focused and began circulating his energy to drive the chill from her body.
Bored, Amelia studied his face—pale skin glistening with sweat, lips neither too full nor too thin, a straight nose many would envy, and sharp brows arching like drawn blades above his sightless eyes. His features were striking, every line carved with precision.
Were it not for his eyes… she mused. In truth, he seemed even handsomer than her cousin. Any woman wed to him would surely know happiness—skilled in martial arts, a protector without equal, and considerate where her cousin was cold. Yet he lacked her betrothed's towering ambition.
Amelia realized, with some surprise, that save for his blindness, Elliott surpassed her cousin in nearly every way.
If only he were more like you… she thought wistfully. Then she wouldn't have to chase shadows; she could stay by his side always.
"Don't lose focus. What are you thinking?" Elliott's face had gone ashen. Her wandering mind had disrupted the qi flow within her, sending it into chaos.
With no choice, he forcibly withdrew his energy, reeling the wild currents back into himself—a violent backlash that left his meridians trembling. Suppressing the disturbance, he fixed her with a strained look. "What distracted you?"