The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 424: He Is Mine

Chapter 424: He Is Mine

Oriana turned her attention back to the unconscious Arlan and softly spoke, "Your Highness, I must leave your side for a moment. But don’t worry, I will be back soon." Her gaze held tenderness, a stark contrast to the anger and darkness that had filled her eyes during her conversation with the witch. She even offered a gentle smile, as if could even see it. She let Arlan lay on the cold floor, her hand releasing its gentle hold on him.

’I must maintain my composure.’

She rose to her feet, facing the dark part of the room. "You are incredibly delusional, you wretched witch. Why don’t you come out and let me see how unsightly you are, hiding your ugliness in the shadows."

Oriana’s tone was laced with unmistakable mockery and unassailable authority. It was as if this witch was a mere nobody, while Oriana herself was the embodiment of supreme power – a fact that held true, given her position as queen. The first rule of being a queen was to exude unwavering authority in the face of anyone she encountered.

The witch seemed to have taken aback by Oriana’ overwhelming confidence but she got back to her senses and scoffed, "You, a lowly human, dare to call me wretched? If you upset me more when I am being nice to you, do not blame me for being cruel. Do not forget that you agreed to let me have your body, and you have no escape from this place."

"Did you take my words seriously?" Oriana laughed as if she was taking this witch for a fool, " Let me tell you, I am a skilled liar, unhesitant to deceive when it benefits me. Besides, why would I give my body, with such a beautiful face, to a loathsome creature like you? If you dare, then step out and let this mother of yours see your face. I must ensure you’re even worthy of touching me. If you are hideous, don’t even entertain the thought."

"It doesn’t matter if you retract your words. Once you agreed, it’s binding, and now you are willingly ensnared in my cage," the witch retorted, dismissing Oriana’s words as mere bluster. "I initially intended to have your body without causing you harm, but it seems I need to remind you of your place and who you truly are."

Oriana remained undaunted by the witch’s threats and instead responded with derision, "My place? If you truly knew who I am, you might find yourself fleeing with all your wickedness tucked between your legs." She shot a mocking look at the witch, in the direction of that voice, her resolve unwavering. "You despicable wretch, show me what you’re made of," Oriana taunted, bracing herself to confront the dark sorceress.

"You’ve asked for it," the witch declared and launched a malevolent spell filled with dark magic towards Oriana.

Before the sinister spell could reach Oriana, a magnificent, potent defensive shield manifested in front of her, effortlessly diverting the impending attack. To those in the know, the sight of this shield was a marvel to behold. It was clear that no ordinary witch could command such an extraordinary protective barrier capable of withstanding an assault infused with evil magic, particularly one fueled by the formidable essence of the most powerful divine blood.

Oriana didn’t move even an inch from where she was standing.

"How is this possible? You are not a human?" the witch exclaimed, taken aback by the thwarted attack, her frustrated cry echoing in the darkness.

"I’ve already told you I’m your mother," Oriana retorted with a sinister edge. "Are you emerging willingly, or should I pull you out by your hair?"

"You are a witch?" the voice from the darkness echoed again.

Oriana’s wicked smirk deepened as she replied, "You’re not entirely without wits, are you?"

"How can you be a witch?" the evil witch said in a disbelief.

"Probably to shove you to the hell?" Oriana replied, enjoying the shock that witch got.

"No witch can withstand me; I am the most powerful..." the witch began, her confidence unwavering.

This dark sorceress had been harnessing the power of the divine beast’s blood in her dark magic, a force so potent that no ordinary witch could hope to match it.

Oriana let out a sigh, her patience wearing thin. "You refuse to listen, don’t you?" She readied herself to venture into the dark recesses of the chamber.

"I extended some mercy, thinking you were a human," the witch sneered, "But now, let me reveal my true self."

The witch launched another attack, determined to assert her power. This time, however, Oriana not only evaded the attack but retaliated with one of her own. The darkest part of the chamber descended into chaos as their magical spells clashed, causing the enveloping darkness to dissipate in an instant.

In the aftermath, a figure of a woman emerged, clad in dark attire from head to toe. Although her face remained hidden, her trembling form and clenched fists betrayed her frustration and the impact of Oriana’s counterattack.

"Who are you?" she demanded once more. She understood this girl was not an ordinary witch.

"I am Oriana Verner, daughter of the woman who trapped you here and the granddaughter of the man who successfully concealed me from you," Oriana answered as she cautiously advanced. "Would you like to know more? I am Prince Arlan’s betrothed and soon to be his wife. We are holding a wedding ceremony soon, but unfortunately ugly witches are not invited."

Oriana’s declaration stirred peculiar emotions in the witch. "You will never marry him. He is mine."

Just as Oriana had expected, she finally found something to stir the emotions of this witch. She was sure attached to Arlan more than one could see. But, why did it not feel right to Oriana as if this witch was coveting what belonged to her.

"Yours? Since when?" Oriana chuckled, continuing her deliberate approach. "Wasn’t I already betrothed to him? I haven’t heard any tale about a repulsive old hag being betrothed to him."

"Shut your mouth!" the witch raised her voice. "I’ve been with him for two decades. Where were you? He is mine, and soon he and I will be together. No one can stop me. I will be his mate, and he will obey only me."

The word "mate" struck a chord within Oriana. Even if she claimed in front of this witch that Arlan was hers, she knew deep down that he would have a mate, and it would never be her.

Dragons were known to cherish their mates, treating them as their most precious possession, and they would never cause harm to their chosen partner, let alone hurting them with harsh words. Yet, Arlan had hurt Oriana repeatedly with his actions and his words, a painful reminder that she was not the one and would never be.

"Whoever becomes his mate," Oriana asserted, "I am certain it won’t be you."

The witch’s anger flared at Oriana’s words. "He will have no other mate but me. The day is fast approaching, and with you here, I see it happening very soon."

"Dream on," Oriana retorted with a touch of defiance. "Looking at him, it’s evident he wants nothing to do with you. I know him well. He cherishes only beautiful woman like me, not hideous wench like you who cower behind a veil," Oriana taunted, her words intentionally provocative. "It appears you’ve terrified him with your hideous looking face to the point where he is utterly averse to you. You seem to be disgrace to our clan which is known for it’s beauty and elegance."

In the heat of the moment, as Oriana unleashed her biting words, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that she was emulating her master’s approach in dealing with the witch. Zaria’s relentless training efforts had clearly not been in vain. If Zaria had witnessed her now, she would likely have been proud of Oriana for confronting the witch with such unyielding and brutal language.

Oriana’s words stoked the witch’s fury. "Once I have your body, you will witness what I am capable of. He will be mine," the witch declared as she watched Oriana draw near. "Do you have any idea how I’ve tormented him since he was a child? Do you comprehend the horrors I inflicted upon him again and again? Yet, he comes to me every full moon."

As Oriana heard this, she was flooded with painful memories of Arlan’s childhood torment. This witch had preyed on him even in his earliest years. It was her time to be affected by that witch’s words.

Oriana’s fists clenched, and she ground out her question through gritted teeth, "What have you done to him?"

The witch was acutely aware of Arlan’s significance as Oriana’s weakness. "Why don’t I show you on the next full moon night? I will reveal exactly what transpires each time he comes to me."

Oriana responded with unwavering determination, her voice resolute, "There won’t be another full moon night where he’ll come to you. I will not..."

"He will come to me again," the witch interrupted Oriana, her words laced with unwavering confidence, "He comes to me because he belongs to me. He knows it well. No matter what I subject him to, the agony I inflict, he returns to me, and he will remain with me," the witch asserted, growing more confident with each word. "His cries of anguish were like sweet melodies to my ears. But now, he remains silent. I wonder what it will take to make him cry out in pain."

Oriana’s composure shattered, and she lunged at the witch with a fierce attack.