The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 439: I Am Pathetic

Chapter 439: I Am Pathetic

Arlan found himself in a state of shock upon spotting Yorian’s unexpected presence. Before he could fully grasp the situation, Yorian began to explain, "I was the one who supported her through everything she went through. It was I who rescued her from the clutches of that witch, as well as you."

Imbert trailed the elf into the room, entering without warning, and immediately sensed the tense atmosphere. He understood that things could easily spiral into chaos. His gaze fixed on Oriana, who appeared visibly frightened, standing in place like a statue.

Arlan rose from the edge of the bed, his eyes locked onto the elf. "How did you get here? How do you know about the witch?"

Another concern gnawed at Arlan. If this elf was privy to his secrets, then his friend Drayce might know them too. Arlan had always concealed the more vulnerable aspects of his life, successfully keeping them hidden from everyone. But now...

His eyes fell on Oriana, who stood there looking as guilty and worried as a sinner, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

"I came to visit Oriana," the elf replied calmly. "I was curious about what she was up to and was taken aback by how her life had transformed, from serving you to becoming your betrothed. I simply wanted to be by her side for a while, but I stumbled upon something far more shocking than I could have ever imagined."

Arlan ground his teeth, his irritation mounting. "You just can’t resist being nosy, can you? Now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity, leave and don’t interfere any further. It won’t take me long to deal with a mere elf."

Yorian stood his ground, unaffected by Arlan’s hostility. "Ah, the mighty dragon wishes to flex his power against an elf? It’s rather arrogant of you to think it’d be so easy."

Arlan’s anger flared at Yorian’s nonchalance. "How about I show you just how easy it can be for me to bury a thousand-year-old corpse in the ground?" His gaze challenging the elf for the fight.

The elf remained composed, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "Where should we take this little confrontation? It wouldn’t be wise to destroy this well-constructed and luxurious palace, would it?"

"You seem awfully eager to pick your own resting place," Alran sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Yorian mirrored Arlan’s disdain, his arrogance undiminished. "Considering your current weak state, Prince Arlan, that graveyard might well become your own."

"Let’s put it to the test, then..."

"Enough, both of you!" Oriana’s voice cut through the rising tension, her fear of a confrontation becoming apparent.

"Stay out of it." Arlan and Yorian simultaneously silenced her with their words and stern gazes. Her intervention had not been well-received by both men who looked completely in the mood of challenging face off.

But Oriana paid no heed to their warnings. She was perplexed by the unexpected aggression from the typically composed elf, Yorian. Arlan was short tempered and impulsive sometimes but why was this elf being the same? What had brought about this side of him? He was not as he appeared; beneath the calm exterior lay a fierce spirit of this thousand years old powerful elf. If he dared challenged the Dragon, then it was wrong to think him weaker than a Dragon. This elf was not impulsive to challenge without having any abilities to confront of his opponent.

Oriana glared back at the two, her previous scared and anxious self had vanished in thin air, only to have confident and determined look on her face.

"I must interfere because I’m the cause of this conflict," Oriana declared, her voice strong and resolute. "The two of you want to battle it out, but the true enemy should be your focus. Have you lost your senses? Does supernatural power grant you the privilege of arrogance and recklessness, turning even the slightest provocations into reasons for a fight? One of you is the Crown Prince of this kingdom, and the other has lived for more years than I can count, yet neither of you exhibits a shred of reason. It’s disgraceful."

The two men remained motionless, their gazes locked on the fiery woman before them. When Oriana concluded her impassioned speech, a heavy silence descended, leaving everyone hesitant to speak. Imbert, too, was surprised by her unexpected outburst, finding solace in the fact that someone dared to chastise these powerful figures and prevent a clash.

"I summoned Lord Yorian here. What will you do now I admited it?" Oriana’s words finally broke that dead silence. Her eyes met Arlan’s as she approached him, her voice still cold but softened a little as her true emotions started to surface. "I summoned him because I couldn’t bear to see you suffer any longer. He was the only one I could ask for help. Do you want to punish me for that now?"

She deliberately omitted any mention of Drayce. Just as the King of Megaris had agreed to uphold her secret as a Black Witch, she was determined to honor his request of keeping Arlan in the dark about his knowledge of the situation. Employing Yorian as their sole recourse to navigate this delicate matter.

Arlan observed her approach, her resolute and unwavering gaze fixed on his eyes. She stood before him, and a bittersweet chuckle escaped her lips. "I must seem quite pathetic, don’t I? Even though you despise me, even if you want to take my life, all I can think of is how to look after you, worry about you. Instead of harbouring hatred for what you did to my grandfather, all I want you is to help you, protect you," she let out mocking chuckle as she repeated, "I am really so pathetic."

Arlan maintained his calm composure, silently regarding her moist, sorrowful eyes, ready to hear her more. It was the first time after that painful retaliation that the he was quiet and she was allowed to pour her heart out.

Oriana continued, her voice laces with flood of emotions, "I may be seen as hopeless and pathetic, a woman with no pride to still care for the man who humiliated her again and again, but that’s who I am and I do not care. I’m going to meddle, and protect you, even if you don’t want it, even if you hate it. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that witch doesn’t harm you. I won’t allow it. Never. She’ll have to go through me. Over my dead body only she can."

Her unwavering determination left Arlan taken aback. He wondered where she had found such confidence to believe she could defeat the malevolent witch.

"You can’t help me," he responded calmly. "You’ll only end up hurt."

"I don’t care," she declared, her determination unwavering. "If my blood is the key to her freedom, if my body is what she needs, if I’m that special to her and the only one who can release her, then why can’t I be the one to end her? My blood is undoubtedly unique enough to grant her freedom, but it can also be her undoing. Didn’t my mother manage to imprison her because she possessed extraordinary blood?"

"It’s not as simple as you think," Arlan replied, attempting to reason with this headstrong woman. He knew her to be obstinate, and stopping her was a nearly impossible task.

"I’ll do as I please, and if you wish to kill me, feel free," she retorted coldly. She then turned to Imbert, her tone commanding, "Sir Loyset, I’m leaving. Ensure this stubborn man rests instead of wandering about, possibly attracting other witches and create more headache for me. If he doesn’t heed your counsel, inform me. I’ll see to it that he’s given medicine to ensure he doesn’t wake for the next two days."

"Yes, Your Highness," Imbert nodded in agreement, bowing to acknowledge her orders.

In the next instant, they watched as Oriana left the room. She didn’t spare them another glance, her head held high with an air of confidence and elegance, as though she were the one who owned the place and everyone else was beneath her.

The three men could only watch her departure in silence. She was someone whom no one dared to control or restrain even if she was at her worst.

"Hmm, that was quite the intense," Yorian remarked as the three stunned men slowly regained their composure.

Imbert turned his attention to Arlan. "Your Highness, it would be wise for you to rest."

Arlan fixed him with a skeptical gaze. "Have you forgotten who your master is?"

"I shall follow what serves my master’s well-being," Imbert responded calmly. "When Her Highness inquires, I’m afraid I won’t be able to deceive her."

Oriana had made it clear that she intended to administer medicine to keep him unconscious for two days, and there was no doubt she would carry through with it. That woman displayed remarkable courage and audacity without a trace of hesitation.

’She can even make my most loyal knight obey her,’ Arlan thought, displeasure appearing on his face and then instructed, "You may leave. I have matters to discuss with Yorian."

Imbert nodded and exited the room, relieved that his master had agreed to stay and rest, which was ultimately in his best interest.