The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 380: There’s something about Mature women

”I’m defending reason and strategy,” Yaknapati replied.

”Baron Kaezhlar defeated Tamnarasi. That means he’s powerful, possibly among the strongest individuals in the empire. If we send Bhaelava and his fighters after him, one of two things happens: either they succeed, and we create a martyr who was defending himself against imperial aggression, or they fail, and we suffer more humiliation.”

”So we do nothing?” Mandaqini’s voice dripped with contempt.

”We wait,” Yaknapati corrected.

”And leave that baron to me, I will take care of him.”

He turned to his little sister, his gaze hardening. ”No one who comes after our family will live long enough to see another dawn.”

He looked at Bhaelava.

”Stand down, brother. That’s not a request.”

Bhaelava’s jaw clenched, but he recognized that Yaknapati outranked him in every way that mattered. ”As you say.”

Mandaqini stared at her eldest son for a long moment, then turned back to Tamnarasi. Her expression softened again, the fury giving way to maternal concern.

”Rest, my daughter. Heal. And when you’re strong again...”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.

As the family members departed, leaving Tamnarasi to her recovery, the princess stared at the ceiling. Her body ached, her pride was shattered, but beneath all that was a strange sensation she’d never felt before.

Respect for an opponent who had bested her fairly.

She hated it.

But she couldn’t deny it.

Jolthar Kaezhlar had defeated her not through tricks or luck, but through superior skill and power.

And somehow, that made everything more complicated.

*

The Streets of Cahns’ar

The afternoon sun cast pleasant warmth over the capital’s merchant district as Jolthar walked between the two princes. Milan had suggested a casual stroll, a chance to see more of the city, and let Jolthar experience Cahns’ar beyond courtrooms and battlefields.

Andrion had enthusiastically agreed, clearly enjoying the chance to continue his observations of the fascinating young baron.

The streets here were wide and well-maintained, lined with shops that ranged from practical to extravagant. Merchants called out their wares, customers haggled over prices, and the general energy was vibrant and commercial.

”This is the heart of Cahns’ar’s economy,” Milan explained as they walked.

”More money changes hands in this single district in a day than some entire provinces see in a year.”

”It’s also where you’ll find the most interesting people,” Andrion added.

”Dealers, artisans, and exotic travelers from across the empire and beyond. Everyone comes through here eventually.”

Jolthar was only half-listening. His attention had been caught by something, or rather, someone across the street.

She stood outside an elegant boutique, speaking with what appeared to be an assistant.

And she was... extraordinary.

”Beautiful” didn’t seem like an adequate word.

She possessed a quality that went beyond conventional attractiveness into something almost ethereal. Her features were perfectly balanced, her skin flawless, and her dark hair arranged in an elaborate style that somehow looked effortless. She wore a dress of deep emerald that seemed to have been designed specifically for her, accentuating a figure that would make sculptors weep.

But more than her physical beauty, there was something about her presence.

A grace, a dignity, and an almost otherworldly quality that made everyone around her seem slightly less vivid by comparison.

Jolthar felt his heart beat faster, actually faster, in a way that had nothing to do with combat or danger. A flutter of something he couldn’t quite name stirred in his chest.

He had been with Cleora and Raayani and had loved them both in different ways.

But this was different.

This was immediate and visceral, like recognition of something important before his conscious mind could articulate why.

”Ah,” Andrion said, following Jolthar’s gaze with a knowing smile.

”I see you’ve noticed Elmesona.”

”Elmesona,” Jolthar repeated, the name feeling significant on his tongue.

”Lady Elmesona of House Saeona,” Milan supplied, his tone carefully neutral.

”She’s... well, she’s remarkable.”

”That’s an understatement,” Andrion said.

”She’s arguably the most beautiful woman in the empire. Certainly the most elegant. She makes even Cleora and Raayani look merely pretty by comparison, though don’t tell them I said that.”

”What does she do?” Jolthar asked, unable to take his eyes off her.

”She’s the head of Jarhca,” Milan explained.

”The luxury clothing brand. You’ve probably seen their work; they dress half the nobility in the empire.”

”Her father founded it,” Andrion added, clearly enjoying sharing gossip.

”Expanded it across the entire empire before he passed. Now Elmesona runs it with her sister and mother. They’ve turned it into something even more successful than when her father was alive. She has an eye for design that’s almost enchanted; everything she creates becomes the fashion standard within months.”

Jolthar watched as Elmesona gestured gracefully while speaking to her assistant. Even from this distance, her movements held a refined beauty that was captivating.

”She’s married, though,” Milan said quietly, and there was something in his tone, warning, perhaps, or sympathy.

”Married?” Jolthar finally tore his gaze away to look at Milan.

”To Lord Tyren of House Saeona,” Andrion confirmed.

”Though calling it a marriage is generous at this point. They’re in the middle of a very messy separation.”

Before they could elaborate, a commotion erupted near Elmesona.

A man had appeared tall and well-dressed but disheveled in a way that suggested too much wine and too little sleep. He was handsome in a fading way, like someone who had been attractive once but was losing the battle against excess and anger.

He grabbed Elmesona’s arm roughly, causing her assistant to step back in alarm.

”You can’t avoid me forever!” the man said, his voice carrying across the street.

”We need to talk about this ridiculous separation!”

Elmesona’s expression remained composed, but Jolthar could see tension in her shoulders. ”Tyren, release my arm. We have nothing to discuss that our representatives haven’t already covered.”

”Representatives?” Tyren’s laugh was bitter and mocking.

”You mean the counsel you’ve hired to steal everything I helped you build? The family business that I contributed to?”

”You contributed nothing but debts and scandal,” Elmesona replied, her voice cool but strained. ”Now please, let go of me.”

Jolthar had already started moving forward when Milan’s hand caught his shoulder.

”Wait,” Milan said firmly.

”He’s hurting her,” Jolthar said, tension evident in his voice.

”That’s her husband,” Milan explained, keeping his grip on Jolthar’s shoulder.