The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 139: An Intriguing Twist Of Events

Chapter 139: An Intriguing Twist Of Events

Rosalie raised an elegant eyebrow, her face draped in a shroud of unmistakable perplexity as she inquired,

"Why... What would lead you to believe I have any concern for this matter? Surely, you are aware that even contemplating support for the Demonic Cult is prohibited within the borders of Rische!"

Rostan could not suppress a broad smile that tugged at his lips. His emerald eyes drifted downward in contemplation of her response before he leaned in, his voice hushed and intimate,

"Indeed, Lady Rosalie. I am fully cognizant of that fact. But do you, my dear lady, realize the same?"

Suddenly, a rush of cold shivers coursed down Rosalie’s spine, causing her skin to prickle with unpleasant goosebumps. Her heartbeat resonated loudly in her ears, and an unexplainable feeling of fear and anxiety draped her like a damp, icy blanket.

’What could this mean? Is he insinuating something? Does he harbor suspicions? But how could he possibly know? How?’

As Rostan observed the duchess’s complexion growing progressively paler with each passing moment, he could not resist releasing a soft chuckle. Her reaction was too endearing to go unnoticed. With a joyful smile still gracing his lips, the prince shook his head and continued, his tone now imbued with warmth and camaraderie,

"Goodness, Lady Dio, it appears that my words have caused you significant distress. Please, let me assure you that my intentions are entirely benign. However..."

Disregarding Rosalie’s effort to withdraw, Rostan leaned closer, his face aligning with hers, and he spoke in a somewhat serious tone,

"Regardless of the choice you make, always keep in mind that the welcoming gates of Izaar shall remain open for you, My Lady."

"Rosalie?"

With an abrupt, guilty start, Lady Ashter swiftly retracted her entire form and pivoted at the sound of a familiar male voice. Just as she was on the verge of needlessly announcing her husband’s arrival, Damien leaped toward her, enfolding her in a tender embrace, and sealing her rosy lips with a loving kiss.

Their kiss turned out to be a little more passionate than she expected but every time she tried to interrupt it, the duke only pressed her closer, placing both of his big hands on the sides of her face, and trapping her within his powerful yet gentle grip.

Damien’s movements seemed rather desperate, perhaps even forceful but Rosalie decided to ignore that, absorbing the sweet sensations brought by her husband’s kiss.

The man, however, was acutely aware of his actions. As soon as Damien’s lips met hers, his keen, yellow eyes remained unwaveringly fixed on Rostan. The prince silently observed as the duke, in a deliberate display of possessiveness, marked his territory with unmistakable intent.

’Is it passion? Love? Connection? Or perhaps... fear? What inner conflict troubles you, Your Grace?’

Finally, as Rosalie began to feel a breathlessness settle over her, Damien withdrew his face and bestowed a gentle smile upon the lady, delicately tending to the soft waves of her golden-brown hair.

"What has brought you here, Your Grace? Did you, too, have an appointment at the Imperial Palace?"

Rosalie’s voice retained a hint of tremor, her breath not yet fully replenished. In reply, Damien tenderly shook his head and traced the back of his right hand along the girl’s cheek.

"I’ve missed you immensely."

With nimble grace, he pivoted Rosalie to face the prince, enveloping her from behind. His strong arms encircled her slender waist, his chin settling atop Lady Ashter’s head. And then he finally addressed Rostan,

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. I trust you are faring well, far from your homeland."

Rostan tilted his head to the right, offering Damien the same polite smile that resonated in both his lips and eyes. He then nodded and replied,

"Good afternoon, Your Grace. I appreciate your concern. Our time in Rische has been truly delightful thus far."

"I’m pleased to hear that. Would you be terribly offended if I were to shamelessly steal my wife from you?"

"Your Grace!"

Rosalie felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as Damien’s words swept over her. Regardless of his rank, treating a member of the foreign Imperial family in such a manner was undeniably rude, to say the least.

Thankfully, Rostan opted for a courteous response, offering the couple another reassuring nod.

"That is perfectly acceptable, Your Grace. Lady Dio and I can continue our conversation at a later time."

Without a moment’s hesitation, he executed a graceful bow, excusing himself as he vanished amidst the verdant walls of flowering bushes, leaving Damien and Rosalie alone with each other.

"Shall we, Rosalie? It is nearly time for tea, and Illai has been eagerly awaiting your presence."

***

"So? Did that give you ample time for a thorough observation?"

Roksolana inserted both her hands into the sleeves of her silk robe, placing them solemnly in front of her chest as she walked alongside her brother, their path leading through the expansive hall on the palace’s first floor.

Rostan, his hands crossed in the very same manner in front of his chest, let out a long humming noise as if deeply contemplating his response before finally offering it to his sister,

"Yes, I have had the opportunity to observe her extensively. And as we suspected, she does indeed bear traces of demonic power. Lady Rosalie Dio has, in fact, entered into a pact with one of the demons."

Roksolana responded with a brief scoff and began a playful series of hops from one foot to another, ensuring her landing was precise in the center of the expansive marble floor tiles.

"How interesting!"

As the twins ventured deeper into the palace, the resonance of their footsteps gradually faded away, leaving behind only the gentle rustling of the wind as it caressed the lengthy, crimson cape bearing the Imperial crest, elegantly embroidered with golden thread.

Loyd Rische stroked his chin, a distinctive trace of curiosity playing upon his countenance. He emerged from behind the partially open door that led to the knights’ ward and curled his lips into a smile, his azure eyes tracing the vanishing silhouettes of the Izaarian twins.

"So, Lady Ashter has entered into a demonic contract, you say? What an intriguing twist of events."