Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 35

**Chapter 35: Your Highness, It’s Decorative**

Agares found himself staring at the blade resting in his palm, a gleaming piece of metal that had seen its fair share of battles. It was surprising, to say the least, when his subordinate’s wife requested it. He hadn’t anticipated such a bold ask from her.

Yet, she had turned down every other offer he made—no payment, no favors, nothing but the knife itself. With a resigned sigh, he extended his wrist, presenting the handle to her with a fluid motion. “It’s yours,” he declared, his voice steady.

Sylvara’s fingers reached for the weapon, brushing against his hand in the process. The contact sent a shiver through her; his skin felt unnaturally cold, like the chill of an early winter morning.

A frown creased her brow.

In an instant, Agares withdrew his hand, and to her surprise, a sheath appeared in his grip as if summoned by magic. “Here. Take this too,” he offered, his voice betraying none of the unease he felt.

She grasped the hilt with a firmer grip, and as she reached for the sheath, she ensured her fingers grazed his once more. The coldness lingered, a stark reminder that his genetic breakdown was more advanced than she had initially believed. The implications of that realization sent a ripple of concern through her—his mental energy must be in a state of turmoil.

Agares, feeling the weight of her touch linger, instinctively stepped back, creating a gulf between them.

Sylvara noticed the distance but remained unfazed. Without missing a beat, she twirled the blade with an effortless grace, the metal glinting in the dim light. With a satisfying clink, she slid the knife into its sheath. “Nice blade. Sharp enough to chop bones for soup,” she remarked casually, her grip firm around the hilt.

Agares remained silent, the weight of the knife’s history heavy in the air.

That knife had been his last line of defense—his savior when ammunition ran low, slicing through the flesh of mutant beasts and Swarmborn alike.

“Come inside and grab the rainbow pepper,” Sylvara instructed, gesturing toward the house with a casual flick of her thumb before turning on her heel and walking back inside.

Agares bent down to collect the three fruit-laden plants that lay on the ground, carefully storing them in his spatial button before following her into the house.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he found Sylvara leaning against the sink, her hands braced on the porcelain edge, her body radiating a low pressure, a tension that filled the room.

Agares, ever the gentleman, chose to remain silent, allowing the moment to linger.

She didn’t turn to face him, her back to him as she focused on the task at hand.

He stood quietly beside the rainbow pepper tree, feeling the steady wave of mental energy it emitted. For the first time in hours, the chaotic storm within Agares’s mind began to settle, if only slightly.

Taking a long, steady breath, Sylvara turned to him, a glass of cold water in hand. “Your Highness Agares, are you in a hurry to head back?”

Agares lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Do you need me to bring something to your husband? Supplies? A message?”

She hesitated, the silence stretching between them like an unspoken truth.

This lie… it was becoming increasingly unsustainable.

At this rate, she was digging her own grave, and soon she’d find herself buried beneath the weight of her own choices.

“No, I was just thinking you guys probably don’t know how to eat this pepper,” she finally said, her voice steady. What she truly wanted to express was a deeper concern—I’m worried you’re going to drop dead, and I won’t have a big, strong husband to hide behind when someone drags me into a lab.

The thought of being the widow of the Troya Empire sent a shiver down her spine.

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