Chapter 309: The Cardils
"Sis?" Mira’s silken voice chimed in from beside Lara, falsely sweet, pulling Lara from her reverie.
"Sister, don’t you know who this is? You seemed in a daze and had not heard my introduction earlier." Mira stood beside the young man. "This is my friend Malcolm Cardil—the youngest son of Lord Julian Cardil. Surely you’ve heard of him?" she continued in a calculated voice that deepened the discomfort hanging in the air.
"Have you forgotten that I lost my memory?" Lara snapped, her voice tinged with frustration. "I can’t even conjure up a single face of Amelia, let alone remember all the other people I never had the chance to meet." Her words hung in the air, heavy with impatience.
Lara’s rebuttal left Mira speechless. She wanted to emphasize that Malcolm, her friend, was the son of the Lord of the Zen Warriors—the finest martial arts school in all of Northem, but the words were stuck in her throat.
The young man’s smirk faltered. He felt it then—the weight of her stare, the cold precision of it, as if she could see straight through him. A shiver crept down his spine, and though he fought to hold her gaze, his bravado crumbled under the frost of her composure.
Once again, Lara’s gaze shifted, as if by unseen threads, to the man standing behind Malcolm, and she took the opportunity to study him.
He was a figure of quiet authority. His gray hair glinted in the light of a thousand candles, his white robe pristine, his posture proud but serene. He carried himself with the same effortless discipline as her master... but there was a difference in their aura.
She could tell that Julian Cardil was hiding something beneath his calm facade.
The old man turned around, and their gazes met and locked for a few seconds. She did not pull back, nor did her gaze falter.