The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 152: Let Us Keep Moving

Chapter 152: Let Us Keep Moving

The door emitted a soft, almost inaudible creak as it gently brushed against its frame, concealing the final glimpse of the slumbering Damien. The duchess paused, her hand delicately pressing against the weathered wood, her head bowing in a silent farewell to the door.

This simple gesture was her sole means of bidding adieu. The alternative would have been to endure another moment gazing upon her husband’s face, risking the unleashing of tears that might alter her resolve. But she could not do that. Neither to him nor to herself.

It was time for her to leave.

And Rosalie was ready to leave. She found herself ensconced within the lush embrace of the Dio mansion’s rose garden. Clad in the most unassuming black dress she could procure, she stood with a singular canvas bag clasped in her pale, trembling hands, eagerly anticipating the arrival of Altair.

The night unfolded in tandem with Lady Ashter’s brooding thoughts, its darkness mirroring the depths of her contemplations. Despite the garden’s resplendence under the subtle silver glow of the waxing moon, the captivating display of myriad flower bushes did little to assuage the oppressive anxiety that gripped Rosalie.

What was she doing? What was about to happen to her?

She had no answers.

All she could fathom was the agony of parting ways with Damien, a departure that seemed to unravel the very fabric of the most precious and profound connection she had ever known.

She was losing love. She was losing her family. She was losing everything.

’I have no other choice. I keep telling myself this but I am still not sure how true these words are. I must find a way to protect the things I cherish and if I can come back here again... I can only pray that Damien would still want me here.’

As Rosalie gently pressed her hands against her stomach, secretly albeit foolishly hoping to feel something inside, she heard a distant rustle of the leaves, and moments later, a tall, towering figure appeared from behind the thick wild rose bushes, draped in a black cloak with a large hood over his head.

"Altair?"

Rosalie whispered quietly but the man still heard her.

"It is me, Lady Rosalie."

Altair hastened toward the woman, coming to an abrupt stop directly in front of her. With a swift motion, he lowered his hood, unveiling his face to her scrutiny.

"I admit, acclimating to your true appearance remains a challenge, but... I find it to be a more fitting representation. It harmonizes well with your name."

A genteel smile curved his lips as he nodded, extending a gloved hand toward the duchess. The two started walking away, footsteps echoing through the quietude of the garden.

"Lady Rosalie, I understand that lingering queries may persist, yet rest assured, there is no cause for concern. I am committed to standing by your side, a stalwart guardian until the journey’s end. Consider this my solemn pledge to you—a vow I am resolute in fulfilling."

Altair’s assertion proved true – the questions kept swarming inside Rosalie’s head, entangling together and making a mess out of her already torn heart. Despite the disarray, her decision stood firm, and her determination remained resolute.

"Altair, your support is invaluable, and I am truly grateful. Nevertheless, in the event of peril, I implore you to prioritize your own well-being. I am unwilling to bear the burden of unnecessary heroic sacrifices."

A trace of amusement danced in Altair’s eyes as he chuckled. His anticipation of encountering a distressed, apprehensive Rosalie proved unfounded. Even amidst the perplexing circumstances, she retained the grace to safeguard her sincere and radiant spirit. In the delicate balance between uncertainty and resolve, Rosalie’s enduring strength emerged as a beacon of light.

***

It seemed as if they walked for hours, navigating the labyrinthine network of winding passages and neglected, narrow pathways, and Progressing deeper into the darkness of the forest enveloping the Dio estate.

Though fatigue began to settle upon Rosalie, she staunchly resisted the urge to voice her weariness. The presence of Altair beside her served as a silent reminder that their shared venture demanded collective endurance. Unlike her, Altair forged ahead, leading the way without respite.

At last, her ears caught a faint heaving sound. Continuing their way beyond several large pine trees, she beheld a sight that unfolded before her: a grand black stallion, adorned with sleek black leather reins, and plush and inviting cushions atop its expansive back. Two moderately sized bags were securely fastened to the creature, indicating its readiness for the impending departure.

"I understand this arrangement may not be flawless, but expeditiousness is of the essence. Moreover, we must exercise caution to avoid drawing undue attention as we proceed. I endeavored to fashion the seat for your comfort as best as possible, and I implore your patience for just a few more hours."

Altair cast Rosalie a look tinged with a hint of remorse and apology, met by her response—a nod of encouragement accompanied by a light, yet warm smile. The genuine care he continually extended to her, expecting nothing in return, raised the possibility that this man might indeed be a paragon of true faith.

"Fret not, Altair, I appreciate your efforts, and I will endure. Now... Let us keep moving. The sooner we leave... The better."

Altair hesitated, his glowing red eyes meticulously observing Lady Dio’s melancholic expression. He comprehended her urgency, and even though he acknowledged he had no entitlement to experience such sentiments, he found his heart succumbing to a few poignant twinges before regaining control once more.

"Yes. Let us keep moving, Lady Rosalie."

Rosalie cinched her grip around Altair’s waist, grappling with the challenge of maintaining balance as the massive black horse surged forward at a pace previously uncharted in her experience.

The waxing moon and scarcely noticeable tiny dots of gleaming stars had changed their arrangements on the black canvas of the night sky, subtly indicating that the time began to move toward early morning hours.

The brisk wind wrapped their bodies in its refreshing and dew-laden embrace and Rosalie sought refuge from the chilly touch on her skin by burying her face in the coarse, black fabric of Altair’s cloak.

They kept moving. Further and further. Away from their homes. Away from the people they knew. Away from everything.

They kept moving toward the unknown.

Now, their destination was Izaar.