The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 100: Silver Strand

Chapter 100: Silver Strand

As the initial wave of joy gradually subsided, Rosalie found herself fixated on Damien’s broad back as he guided her towards her bedroom. A sense of conflict began to brew within her. Logically, it might have been wiser to feel concerned about the Duke’s unreasonable jealousy. However, no matter how hard she tried, she still could not suppress her own intense emotions.

’Today has been rather peculiar. I believe I have glimpsed more of Damien’s emotions in a single day than I have in the past two months combined. It feels strangely heartwarming and exceptional."

She continued to ponder as they walked, her thoughts drifting into a more contemplative realm.

’Perhaps, for tonight at least, I can permit myself to indulge in these feelings. After all, who can predict whether I will ever savor such bliss again?’

As they nestled beneath Rosalie’s generous, cozy blanket, flanking the slumbering Illai like attentive parents, an unexpected surge of anxiety began to engulf the girl. Although she had willingly invited Damien into her bed, an oppressive weight suddenly settled upon her, making the comforting warmth of the blanket feel rather suffocating.

Adding to her unease, even with her eyes closed, she sensed the Duke’s unwavering gaze upon her, as though he were a predator, patiently awaiting his prey’s moment of vulnerability to pounce.

Finally, a trace of irritation furrowed her brows, prompting her to open her eyes and whisper,

"Your Grace, aren’t you going to sleep?"

His intense yellow eyes still trained on her, Damien replied in a hushed tone,

"No."

A short, defeated sigh involuntarily escaped Lady Ashter’s lips once more.

"Well, suit yourself. I suppose I shall retire for the night."

However, just as she was about to heed her own words and seek solace in slumber, Damien’s touch, feather-light, gently graced her shoulder. His voice, now barely a whisper, inquired,

"Lady Rosalie, what did the young lad convey to you earlier today? He whispered something in your ear and made you laugh."

Recalling the afternoon’s encounter, a mischievous smile began to play upon her lips. She fought to stifle an impending giggle as she reminisced,

"He expressed his lament, Your Grace, for my impending marriage to you. You see, he harbored dreams of marrying me once he matures!"

Clearly taken aback by Illai’s audacity, Damien’s eyebrows arched in surprise. His composed expression shifted to one of bewilderment once more, prompting Rosalie to stifle yet another quiet chuckle. She could not help but appreciate the genuine reaction of the duke.

With tenderness, she carefully adjusted the blanket draped over the young boy’s shoulders. Her gaze then turned toward her bewildered fiancé, a kind smile gracing her lips as her large gray eyes met his.

"Good night, Your Grace."

With that, Lady Ashter turned away, resting her hands beneath her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She hoped for the fatigue of the long, tumultuous day to sweep over her in an instant, however, despite the exhaustion that enveloped her entire being like heavy shackles, she found herself unable to drift into slumber, even after what felt like several long hours.

In the quiet of the night, Damien found sleep elusive. His gaze remained fixed on Illai and Rosalie, his heart besieged by a relentless storm of conflicting emotions. Lying there beside the woman he held dear and the child who had grown ever closer to her, he could not help but ponder whether this was what a true family did. If it was, he had to concede that he could never have imagined such a scene even in his wildest dreams.

With a quiet sigh, he turned over and placed his large palm over his eyes, an uncontrollable whisper escaping his lips,

"This sense of bliss... it’s not within my grasp to safeguard. No matter my desires, I must ensure I leave no legacy behind. I genuinely pray... that I never bring forth any offspring to endure the same burden."

Suddenly, Rosalie’s eyes snapped open, but they were met with an all-encompassing darkness. The pounding of her heart resonated in her ears, while a gnawing tension coiled within her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the edge of her blanket, yet the indescribable ache that clutched her innermost being refused to release its hold.

***

The Crown Prince paused in his stroll, inhaling deeply, savoring the healing freshness carried by the steady October wind that swept through the serene empty gardens of the Holy Temple.

"As for the blessing ceremony, considering His Grace Duke Dio’s wedding will also take place here, we must coordinate our arrangements. Perhaps the knights could receive their blessings the following morning, just before their departure?"

The High Priest nodded thoughtfully, a satisfied smile gracing his thin lips as he replied,

"I believe that would be the most prudent course of action. Order must prevail in all matters."

Loyd pivoted to face the Priest, his head tilting slightly as he regarded the man with a curious, almost suspicious, expression.

"That reminds me... How is Damien faring with his seizures? It has been some time since we received an update on his treatment."

"That is because he hasn’t requested one, Your Highness."

The prince raised his eyebrows, an expression of surprise dancing across his features as he leaned against the cool stone of the Temple wall.

"He hasn’t? How peculiar..."

His gaze then drifted ahead, and he continued his inquiry.

"Tell me, Your Holiness, about your first disciple, Revered Altair... You did mention he is attending to Lady Ashter, didn’t you?"

The Priest once again nodded, while Loyd’s mouth curled into yet another sly smile.

"What precisely ails her? Is it some grave malady?"

"Not in the least, Your Highness. Altair has discerned a soul imbalance in Lady Rosalie, and he is merely aiding her in its restoration. It may be a result of the myriad hardships she endured in her family’s company."

"Intriguing... Your Holiness, kindly instruct Revered Altair to maintain a vigilant watch over Her Ladyship and relay any concerns he may uncover."

The Priest’s eyes widened, indicating his struggle to grasp the prince’s implications.

"Do you harbor suspicions about Lady Ashter, Your Highness?"

Loyd initially wore a solemn expression, but upon sensing a trace of worry clouding the priest’s face, he simply scoffed and waved his hand, as if dispersing the tension that lingered between them.

"No, no! I merely wish to ensure the well-being of the couple. As you are aware, Damien is dear to me, akin to a brother. Therefore, I wish to ensure that his future spouse poses no harm to him."

The prince motioned for the Priest to join him further into the garden, where they could converse more freely. As their footsteps resonated with the soft rustle of decaying leaves, a gentle breeze lifted a silvery strand of hair. Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the Temple wall, another figure detached himself from it, quietly retreating into the distance, allowing the autumn gust to continue its whimsical dance.