The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 510: You Jerk!

Chapter 510: You Jerk!

Upon their arrival at the Rose Palace, servants graciously led them to a grand dining room where the entire family eagerly awaited them.

"Aunt, uncle!" a small figure dashed toward them.

Arlan scooped her up and gently pecked on her soft cheek.

"I thought aunt wouldn’t be here," Rayjin commented, looking at Oriana.

Oriana felt puzzled while Arlan asked with a playful pinch to her soft cheek. "Why wouldn’t your aunt be here?"

"I heard grandma telling my mother that you troubled my aunt, and she must be tired," Rayjin innocently explained.

Arlan exchanged a bemused glance with embarrassed Oriana, trying not to let a smile slip through. Then he raised a brow at the pair of mother and daughter.

Oriana felt relieved that the king was not there at least, that spared her from further embarrassment.

Julien and Alevra subtly shifted their gazes away from Arlan and exchanged uncertain glances. In hushed tones, Alevra whispered, "Mother, when did she overhear us talking?"

"I’m not sure," the queen replied in a similarly discreet tone. "Did she hear everything?"

"She is a child. She probably didn’t grasp the full context of what kind of trouble we were talking about," Alvera reassured. "Do not worry."

"Why do you trouble my aunt? She’s so pretty," Rayjin innocently inquired, once again capturing her uncle’s attention.

"She’s indeed very pretty, which is precisely why your uncle Arlan troubled her," Lenard chimed in with a polite bow towards his brother and sister-in-law.

"Lenard, please refrain from making inappropriate comments in front of Rayjin," Alvera scolded her brother.

"Sister, this time it’s actually you and Mother who are in the wrong," Lenard countered, looking around the room with a mischievous smile. "You should be cautious about where you speak."

Well, Lenard was not wrong. This little girl was like a spy to appear anywhere to hear others talking.

Lenard turned his attention back to his brother with a playful smile, "So how was the night, brother?"

"Would you prefer to get beaten up in front of your wife or later, Lenard?" Arlan’s tone was icy cold.

"Hmm, maybe later," and returned to his place next to his wife, not willing to have a beating as his morning meal.

Miera lightly giggled at her husband’s reaction and whispered to him, "Why do you tease him?"

"It’s fun," he winked at his wife. "You will get used to it soon."

Arlan gently released Rayjin from his arms, saying, "Go ahead and sit in your chair."

"Yes, Uncle," the young girl responded, scampering to her seat next to her mother.

Arlan turned his attention to Oriana, who appeared somewhat uncertain of her place in the family dynamics. He offered a reassuring smile and gestured toward a chair. "Let’s take our seats."

He pulled out the chair for her, and she graciously sat down. As they settled in, the couple exuded a sense of perfect harmony, their union seamless to the eyes of the onlookers, concealing any differences that might exist between them.

The arrival of the King, accompanied by Duke Wimark, marked the beginning of the meal. The customary greetings were exchanged, with the King occupying the head of the family’s seat, while Rhys sat next to his wife.

For Oriana, this was an entirely new experience—a meal with the entire royal family, including the King, Queen, Cromwell siblings, and their respective partners. It felt strangely unfamiliar, as she had grown up with only her grandfather—a family of just two.

As the servants began serving the meal, the King gave the signal to start. The atmosphere was filled with pleasant conversation, laughter, and playful banter.

Oriana couldn’t help but observe the genuine happiness that radiated from the family gathered around her. It was difficult to reconcile this joyous scene with the suffering that had been inflicted upon them due to her family’s past mistakes. If her grandfather had not committed such a grave act as killing the Queen, she might have been a part of this family as well.

How could she sit here, enjoying a meal and the warmth of this lovely family?

A heavy sensation settled in her chest, and her throat tightened with overwhelming emotions. Oriana fought to maintain her composure and hide the turmoil that raged inside her.

Unexpectedly, she felt a warm palm cover her hand, which had been clutching her dress tightly on her thigh. Arlan’s hand gently caressed hers, coaxing her fingers to release their grip on the fabric. It was a comforting touch, as though he sensed her need for solace, even though he should be the last person to offer it.

With a heavy heart, Oriana glanced at the man seated beside her, who attentively placed more food into her still-full dish.

"Eat well," he whispered softly.

"I taught my son well," Julien commented, looking at the couple affectionately, "He sure knows how to take care of his wife."

"My dear, are you implying that I never took care of you? Have I failed in that regard?" The King asked as he raised a brow at his wife.

The Queen, amused by her husband’s response, smiled and reassured him, "I didn’t mean it that way, darling. I was simply praising our son."

The King, undeterred, scooped up some food and served it to his wife, saying, "Your favorite."

Lenard couldn’t resist teasing. "Looks like Father is getting jealous."

The King countered, maintaining his dignified appearance to not be overshadowed by his jealousy, "She is my wife, after all, so she should pay attention to me. You two have your own wives now to care for you. Don’t even think about stealing my wife’s attention."

Leonard tried to defend himself, "When did we ever try to—"

"Father is right, Leonard," Arlan interrupted, his eyes on Oriana. "We have our own wives to care for us. Isn’t it, my dear wife?"

Oriana, with no other option, nodded and resumed eating, her gaze lowered. She was taken aback when Arlan added, "I look forward to you taking better care of me."

After the meal, as the newlywed couple prepared to depart from the family gathering, Julien, Oriana’s mother, took a moment to address her daughter. "Oriana, Ana must have informed you about your upcoming schedule."

"Yes, Mother," Oriana replied with polite deference.

"Enjoy your newlywed days with Arlan," Julien continued, "and later, you will become occupied with me as you strive to understand your responsibilities as the Crown Princess. You will also be introduced to important figures."

"I understand, Mother," Oriana affirmed.

Arlan then added, "Mother, we’ll be staying at Wildridge Manor for a while."

Julien responded with a warm smile. "Of course, you should have more time for each other. I’ll make sure your father doesn’t assign you any duties during this period."

"Thank you, Mother," Arlan acknowledged before departing with Oriana.

Once they were inside the carriage, Oriana couldn’t help but ask, "Why are we going there?"

Arlan met her gaze with a serious expression. "To relish our time as newlyweds without any interruptions."

His tone and demeanor conveyed a strong sense of determination, making it clear that he was entirely serious about what he had said.

Arlan raised an amused eyebrow as he observed Oriana’s demeanor. "Why do you appear as though a lion is about to devour you... Actually, let me correct that, a dragon is about to feast upon you?"

Suppressing her own anxiety, Oriana met his gaze head-on. "Shouldn’t this Dragon seek out his mate and devour her instead?"

Her response seemed to catch him off guard, and he recognized that familiar stubborn streak in Oriana, the one that relished challenging whatever he said.

"What if this Dragon desires to consume you instead?" he countered.

Understanding his implication, she frowned and retorted, "Perverted Dragon, a disgrace to the noble lineage of divine beasts known for their unwavering loyalty to their mates."

He didn’t seem bothered and replied with a sly grin, "I wouldn’t mind being an exception among divine beasts. I quite enjoy being a pervert, but only for you."

With a hint of sarcasm, Oriana remarked, "Whichever mate you end up with will truly be unfortunate. I hope she punishes you thoroughly for your perverseness."

Arlan’s response was unwavering, "She can do whatever she wishes with me," his gaze fixed on her intently, "I allow her, only her."

The furrow in Oriana’s brow deepened further. This man desired her and his mate as well, following the tradition of royalty known for having multiple wives. He was no exception.

"Feel free to do as you wish," she replied curtly, her frustration evident. "Just stay away from me."

"That I cannot," Arlan declared firmly. "You are my wife."

Oriana felt a surge of frustration and decided to retreat into silence, turning her attention to the passing scenery outside.

As they traveled through the city streets, Oriana moved closer to the window, her eyes scanning the surroundings. She was searching for someone, someone named Luke. She pondered whether he had returned to the village or if he was still in the city. How could she find out about him?

Erin, that was it. He used to work at Ahrens, and Erin knows him. She made a mental note to seek out Erin and ask about Luke.

Arlan noticed her preoccupation with the road and guessed what she was looking for. He frowned, tempted to close the window to shield her from these thoughts, but he restrained himself.

’I need to find out about that guy.’

Upon their arrival at Wildridge Manor, they were warmly greeted by the butler. "Welcome, Your Highness, Crown Prince, and Crown Princess."

Arlan acknowledged the welcome with a slight nod and led Oriana upstairs. When they reached their designated floor, Oriana paused, surveying the area.

She then turned to her personal servant, Ana, and inquired, "Which one is my chamber?"

Ana, the only servant permitted to accompany Oriana, replied, "Your Highness, you will be staying in His Highness’ chamber."

Oriana’s displeasure was evident, and before she could voice her objection, Arlan intervened. "You are dismissed," he instructed Ana.

With a courteous bow, Ana left the room, leaving the couple alone.

Oriana turned her gaze toward Arlan. "I need a separate chamber while I’m here."

Arlan responded, "We haven’t prepared another chamber for you."

Determined, Oriana declared, "Then I will stay in the guest room," and turned to leave.

Arlan reacted swiftly, catching Oriana’s hand and pulling her back toward him. Their close proximity resulted in her body being pressed firmly against his.

"Have you forgotten that you are my wife?" he challenged, his voice low and intense. "Do you need a reminder?"

"I remember it clearly," Oriana retorted, maintaining her resolve. "But I still need my own room."

"That’s not going to happen," Arlan insisted. "Didn’t you hear my mother expecting us to enjoy our time as newlyweds?"

"She doesn’t need to know the details," she replied defiantly.

Arlan, unwavering, countered, "But I don’t like disappointing my mother." With that, he scooped her up into his arms. "Let’s go to the chamber."

Oriana protested loudly, "Arlan Cromwell, what the hell are you doing? You jerk!"

Her outburst resonated throughout the manor, and the commotion was heard by all.

The butler acted swiftly, dismissing all the servants and issuing a clear order, "No one is to go to the first floor."