The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 501: Oriana’s POV- I Do Not Deserve You

Chapter 501: Oriana’s POV- I Do Not Deserve You

Oriana’s attendants dressed her in a beautiful silk nightdress, its luminous sheen akin to pearls that complemented her slender frame exquisitely. The long sleeves enveloped her delicate arms, adorned with intricate frills at the wrists, gracefully covering her small palms. The round neckline accentuated her elegant swan-like neck, revealing her delicate collarbones and emanating a feminine charm that radiated from her entire being, not to forget her mesmerising beautiful face.

As she faced her reflection in the mirror, Ana delicately combed through Oriana’s long hair, removing any jewellery intricately woven into the strands, leaving her long hair locks gracefully free at the back. She looked beautiful that even her servants could not take her eyes off of her whether she was wearing bride’s dress or in this delicate night dress.

However, Oriana’s gaze seemed distant, as if absorbed in her own thoughts rather than examining her own image.

The servants, unaware that Oriana’s natural scent might be more alluring to her husband, had applied a captivating essence to her body. Once prepared, the other attendants departed, leaving Ana behind.

Observing Oriana’s uncharacteristic demeanor on her wedding night, Ana couldn’t help but notice the absence of reaction from any newly wedded bride on her wedding night, devoid of any nervousness or shyness. Instead, Oriana exuded an unusual calmness, seemingly prepared for whatever the unfolding events might bring.

"Your Highness, are you alright?" Ana inquired.

Oriana lifted her gaze, meeting Ana’s eyes from the reflection in the mirror. "Is everything ready?" she responded, skillfully sidestepping Ana’s concern.

Ana discreetly swallowed her words of concern, and nodded. "Let me escort you, Your Highness," Ana offered.

Rising from her seat, Oriana walked toward the main chamber with Ana following closely. Ana hesitated before speaking again, "Your Highness, would you care for some water?"

"I am fine," Oriana replied, turning towards the window to gaze outside.

Ana felt a sense of worry and wished her mistress would share any concerns that might be troubling her. However, as was often the case, Oriana remained reticent. Not wanting to prolong her stay, Ana left the room, aware that the Crown Prince would arrive soon.

"Good night, Your Highness," Ana uttered quietly before exiting the chamber and closing the door behind.

Oriana’s gaze lingered on the darkened sky as her thumb absentmindedly traced the contours of the ring on her finger. Lowering her gaze, she fixed her attention on the beautiful ring in her finger. With gentle strokes, she continued to caress the ring, lost in contemplation.

’I wonder if I even deserve to wear it.’

Returning her gaze to the horizon, Oriana found herself adrift in a sea of thoughts. Though she was aware of everything that had transpired since regaining consciousness after the incident that night, the whirlwind of events had left her emotions and mental state in disarray.

The betrayal cut deep—the moment he injected that needle into her neck, paralyzing her. Despite her desperate attempts to stop him, her magic failed against him. Her efforts to send a magical message to Yorian were similarly failed as if she was not able to perform any kind of magic. The drug had not just paralysed her body but weakened her ability to use magic.

Were it not for the pendant her master Zaria had bestowed upon her, enabling her to call for help, she would have remained confined to that bed, unable to save him, let alone being able to see him for the last time.

Her Master Zaria, sensing her plight, provided a potion that lessened the effects of the drug, allowing her to stand on her feet and reach him with Zaria’s assistance. Witnessing him on the brink of sacrificing his life, Oriana felt an overwhelming surge of despair. She was prepared to go to any lengths to save him, even if it meant surrendering her body to that evil witch.

But she failed to protect him. Before her eyes, the witch plunged that divine weapon into his heart, as if making her worst nightmare come true. With each weakening beat of the energy barrier, she felt his last breath slipping away, and with it, she sensed herself surrendering to the abyss of despair. The desire to live evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming surge of helplessness, hatred, and anguish—emotions that rendered life unbearable.

In the aftermath, the events blurred, and she found herself consumed by an unrelenting urge to avenge his death. She yearned to extinguish the life from the witch, to rip her heart from her chest and inflict upon her the harshest punishment imaginable. In that moment, Oriana was not herself; she allowed another force to seize control, permitting it to dominate her as long as it facilitated the pursuit of retribution.

She succeeded in killing the witch, but the torrent of rage within her proved uncontainable. Oriana had fully surrendered to the force of darkness that had usurped her sanity, embracing the hellish darkness that consumed her entirely. In the absence of the one she loved, she cared not for the cost of losing herself. Anguish and fury stemming from that abyssal darkness guided her actions, propelling her to destroy anything that stood in her way.

Until she heard him.

"Oriana."

The voice cut through the enveloping darkness, reaching her sinking consciousness.

"I am here."

She struggled to emerge from the clutches of the hellish darkness, and before her, she found him alive. The warmth of his palm against her cheek reassured her of his existence. Yet, it all felt like a dream, a surreal experience that she welcomed. It was better to see him in her dream than not being able to see him anymore.

Upon waking, she discovered him beside her, but the flood of emotions from her unconscious journey left her numb. Simultaneously, an unrelenting anger, deep-rooted in the darkness within her, refused to be suppressed. This anger led her to hurt him mercilessly, as if driven by an insatiable desire to end his life. However, the notion of harming him was inconceivable—How could she, rather she would die in his place even if means to die thousands of times more.

As if this internal turmoil wasn’t enough to disturb her sanity, haunting memories from the past began to torment her. These memories, belonging to Edna, were fragmentary, revealing only the aspects that inflicted the most pain to Oriana. It seemed as though even after death, the witch had chosen to torment her with these memories.

Among these distressing recollections of memories, Oriana witnessed Arlan’s suffering, a suffering caused by her own family. The entire truth remained unknown, but the evidence pointed to her mother’s guilt in something she had done to Arlan while he was still in his mother’s womb.

In one haunting memory, Oriana witnessed the trauma Arlan endured as a child when he helplessly witnessed his mother’s death. The image of that small child, frozen in shock as a sword pierced his mother’s body, resonated with her own sense of helplessness when she saw her grandfather face a similar fate. Yet, she was an adult, and Arlan was just a child grappling with the brutality of reality. How could her grandfather commit such an act?

Her family, particularly her mother’s certain mistake, bore the responsibility for the extensive suffering inflicted upon Arlan and his family. He had endured a living hell, dying a thousand deaths silently. How could he ever forgive her family? He shouldn’t.

As if the damage inflicted by her family wasn’t enough, she herself became a source of his demise when he sacrificed his life to save hers. Both her family and she seemed destined to cause him harm.

Past few days, though he stood faithfully by her side, tending to her needs, given the wreckage her family had wrought upon his life, Oriana couldn’t bring herself to accept anything from him—neither his care nor his affection. In her own eyes, she didn’t deserve it. Instead, she was a sinner as she was associated with the family that had caused him immeasurable pain.

That night, she stayed by her grandfather’s side, weeping through the hours, questioning why their family had caused such harm to the person she genuinely loved.

On the wedding day, she knew it was the day finally but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t deserve to marry him, but if she didn’t, he would never become a king and it would bring shame to him and his family. He must have worked hard since childhood to become the next King of this kingdom despite going through hell, and the expectations of his parents and the kingdom rested upon him. Yet, once again, the fate of his kingship, his bright future, was to be determined by her, the one who carried the blood of the family that sinned against him.

In the midst of this internal struggle, Yorian emerged as a guiding light through the darkness. He spirited her away, providing respite from the pain and assisting her in clearing her mind.

Despite the disappointment that her mother was the cause of Arlan’s torment, Oriana could sense that her mother was not evil. Queen Julien revealed how her mother had sacrificed her life to protect the royal family, and Oriana was determined to honor that promise and shield Arlan. Beyond any familial obligation, she was prepared to do whatever it took to protect him.

If the blood coursing through her veins was destined to safeguard what resided within him, she pledged to fulfill that duty until her last breath. Every decision she made would be directed toward benefiting Arlan and his family. Driven by a steadfast determination, she resolved to atone for the sins committed by her family against the royal family, ensuring they would not endure any further suffering.

Gazing once more at the ring on her finger, she whispered, "I truly do not deserve you."

Just then she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, getting closer with each step forward. She knew who it was.