The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort Chapter 512: Whispers and Wicked Games (3)

"The both of you, stop it! Now!" Cerys's voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp, commanding, and laced with shock.

Serelith's eyes snapped open, her heart lurching. Panic surged through her, her cheeks flushing a deep, burning red. But even as she pulled back, her gaze t Cerys's—amber eyes wide with shock, her lips parted in disbelief.

But it wasn't their kiss that held Cerys's horrified attention. It was lower—on the bay gelding's sleek, dark coat, where a thin, glistening trail of white slowly dripped down, a thick, shimring streak that painted the horse's fur in a sweet, unmistakable trail.

"You… the both of you… here?!" Cerys's voice was a mix of shock, outrage, and sothing else—sothing hot and jealous.

Serelith's face went scarlet, her heart pounding, her mind racing. But then—a faint, wild giggle slipped free. She clapped both hands over her mouth, her shoulders shaking, but the laughter bubbled up, uncontrollable, wild, and breathless.

Mikhailis's arms tightened around her, his lips brushing against her ear, a faint, teasing whisper. "Well… now you've gone and done it, my mischievous mage."

Cerys's expression shifted, her shock turning to a fierce, blushing glare. "You… you shaless… perverted… the both of you!"

But even as she shouted, her cheeks flushed a deep, burning red, her gaze flickering between them, a faint, unmistakable hunger simring beneath her anger. Her hands clenched at her sides, and she stomped toward them, her voice a strained, trembling hiss. "Stop it! I an it! Stop it now!"

Mikhailis chuckled, but his voice softened. "Alright, alright… we're done, we promise."

Serelith's laughter finally settled, but her cheeks remained flushed, her violet eyes shimring with a mix of mischief and embarrassnt. "Sorry, Cerys… I just… I couldn't help myself…"

"Couldn't help yourself?!" Cerys's voice was a fierce, breathless whisper. "You… you're unbelievable!"

But even as she shouted, her gaze lingered, her amber eyes betraying a faint, burning jealousy. Her fingers twisted in the reins, her breaths coming faster, her chest rising and falling with each trembling exhale.

Mikhailis leaned toward her, his voice a soft, teasing whisper. "Jealous, are we?"

"W-What?!" Cerys's voice cracked, her cheeks blazing. "Jealous?! I—of course not! I… I just… it's… it's improper!"

"Improper?" Serelith's smile widened, a playful, wicked glint in her eyes. "Oh, please, Cerys. You know you're just upset because you weren't part of it."

Cerys's jaw dropped, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. "W-What?! That's… that's not… I would never… I…"

Her voice broke, her breath catching, and she turned sharply, her back to them, her fists clenched at her sides. "Just… just clean yourselves up! We're in public, for gods' sake!"

Mikhailis exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Serelith, his lips curling into a faint, amused smile. Serelith leaned closer, her voice a soft, purring whisper. "Oh, Cerys… you're adorable when you're flustered."

Cerys's shoulders tensed, but she didn't turn. "I'm not flustered! I'm… I'm just… I'm trying to keep you two from making a scene!"

But the faint, trembling quiver in her voice, the way her fingers twisted in the reins, the way her gaze refused to et theirs—Mikhailis saw it all. A faint, playful warmth blood in his chest.

"Alright, alright," he called, pulling Serelith close, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "We'll behave. Promise."

Serelith leaned into his touch, a soft, dreamy smile on her lips. "For now…"

Cerys's blush deepened, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. "Just… just hurry up. We're going to be late."

Cerys end up scolding Serelith for a while, but she seems to be more jealous by how Serelith seem to be in bliss rather than mad because how it's improper. Then they continue their journey soon.

Cerys's sword hilt glinted under the hanging lanterns as she gestured toward a plank bridge sagging over the city moat. "South Market gate. Sll that? Fried honey dough."

The aroma drifted on the late-sumr breeze—sweet batter, hot oil, a dust of spice sugar—and set all three stomachs rumbling. They reined in at a post just outside the gate where stable boys lounged, tossing pebbles at a crate.

"Mind the mare," Cerys warned, flipping a silver coin that twinkled through the dusk. One boy snatched it mid-air, eyes suddenly respectful. Serelith dismounted with practiced grace, cloak flaring like violet ink. Mikhailis slid down after her; his boots kissed the flagstones and his pulse kicked up—festival sounds throbbed ahead like a living drum.

Mana-lanterns bobbed overhead on invisible threads, round as moons, tinting the street peach, sea-green, lilac. Each lantern carried a rune that siphoned slivers of ambient magic from the air, keeping them aloft. Ingenious, Mikhailis mused while tugging his hood a little lower. Would make excellent insect traps back ho.