The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 393: Help from a half deity

The wind deity’s aura solidified completely, and it rose instantly, creating a wall of divine force.

Selma turned to the deity and said, "You have stooped enough to interfere in mortal affairs and even attempted to kill him."

"Your interference is a violation of divine law."

"Divine law," Aphyana spat.

"You dare speak to me of law?"

"You all are nothing but specks of dust under my foot. Just because you got stronger, you are now standing against deities."

"Yes, I am doing exactly what you said. And if you are not gonna leave in the next few seconds, I will have to call a few friends of mine who are very eager to meet you."

Aphyana knew who she was talking about, and they were more enthusiastic about meeting her.

Her other siblings.

Aphyana’s hands clenched into fists, her entire body radiating fury. But she was intelligent enough to recognize when the situation had turned against her. She knew that Selma had connections in the Illumarhen even though she was still a mortal. And if she were to call them, the situation would get messy, and their father wouldn’t like it.

"This isn’t over," she said quietly, her voice dripping with venom.

"Jolthar Kaezhlar has made too many enemies. His protection won’t last forever."

"Maybe not," Selma agreed.

"But it lasts for tonight.

Now leave, before I decide that our family reunion should include a demonstration of why Father’s bloodline breeds warriors, not schemers."

For a long, tense moment, Aphyana stood frozen.

She looked at Borehym and told him to leave for now. He understood that if Aphyana was leaving, then the threat that new woman posed must have been great. He also decided to leave for now, but he didn’t know that the next time he meets Jolthar, he won’t survive like this time.

Then, with a gesture of disgust, she turned and vanished in a flash of divine light.

Myron hesitated, looking between Selma and the wounded Jolthar.

Finally, he too withdrew, though his expression promised that this matter was far from settled in his mind.

Elara lingered a moment longer, her eyes on Jolthar with that same calculating hunger.

"We’ll meet again, cousin. And next time, perhaps circumstances will be more... favorable."

Then she too departed.

Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by Jolthar’s labored breathing.

Selma turned to look at him properly for the first time, her expression softening from warrior-cold to something approaching concern.

"You’re a mess."

"Thanks," Jolthar managed through gritted teeth.

"Good to know."

"I meant physically," Selma clarified, kneeling beside him to examine his injuries.

"Your hip is shattered, your leg is barely attached. You need healing, immediately."

Far in the distance, Ivyona and Haryntha looked at each other, and they were surprised to see this new development. Ivyona, of course know about Selma, but why was she helping Jolthar?

Does she know about him?

They also disappeared right after others left. For now, the matter regarding Jolthar had been put on hold. They must know about Selma and her interest in Jolthar.

*

Jolthar’s eyes opened slowly, his consciousness swimming up through layers of healing sleep. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in pain, or rather, the excruciating agony from his shattered hip and mangled leg had diminished to a dull, manageable ache.

The second thing he noticed was the ceiling.

It was unlike any ceiling he’d seen before. Smooth white stone arched overhead, supported by elegant columns that seemed too slender for the weight they bore. Intricate patterns were carved into the stone - abstract designs interspersed with flowing natural forms that reminded him of vines and water. Sunlight streamed through openings that weren’t quite windows, creating patterns of light and shadow that shifted as the sun moved.

He was lying on a bed that was far more comfortable than it had any right to be - soft but supportive, covered in linens that felt like liquid silk against his skin.

Where am I?

Jolthar tried to sit up, and his body protested but obeyed. His right hip and leg were heavily bandaged with wrappings that glowed faintly with residual healing magic. Someone had clearly worked on him extensively while he slept.

The damage had been heavy because it was done by a deity and deivruta. Their coordinated attacks were fast and lethal.

"You’re awake."

He turned to find a young woman in simple but elegant robes standing in the doorway. She had the bearing of a servant but moved with a grace that suggested she was well-trained and valued.

"Where am I?" Jolthar asked, his voice rough from disuse.

"The residence of Lady Selma Belat Vroulan," the maid replied with a respectful bow.

"In the capital, though in a section few know about. My lady asked to be informed when you woke.

Please, if you’re able, come to the dining hall. Breakfast is being served."

She gestured to clothing laid out on a nearby chair—simple but well-made, clearly intended for him.

Jolthar dressed carefully, testing his injured leg. It held his weight, though it was weak and protested any sudden movements. The healing had been remarkable, what should have taken months to recover from had been reduced to something manageable in what must have been a single night. Additionally, his quick regeneration helped.

The maid led him through corridors that reinforced his initial impression. The architecture was distinctly different from the imperial style he’d seen elsewhere in Cahns’ar.

It was... lighter somehow, more open. The walls were pristine white stone, punctuated by columns and arches. Gardens were visible through the frequent openings—not formal imperial gardens, but naturalistic spaces with flowing water, flowering plants, and sculptures that seemed to celebrate beauty for its own sake.

It reminded Jolthar of descriptions he’d read of ancient architecture—classical, elegant, and designed to celebrate human achievement and divine beauty in equal measure.

They emerged into an open hall that was more outdoors than in. The roof was supported by columns on all sides, but the space between them was open to the air, looking out over a courtyard with a fountain at its center. A long dining table occupied the middle of the hall, already set with food.