To His Hell and Back
Chapter 297: The Devil’s Trick-I

Chapter 297: The Devil’s Trick-I

Arabella had just received the news of Raven’s death— brief, sparse, yet telling in its omissions. It came through Renard, wrapped in the kind of tight lipped delivery that always hinted at something darker beneath. But she was no fool. The Queen had killed him.

Not directly perhaps, but Raven had uncovered something. Something Morgana wanted buried.

And for that, he’d been silenced.

But what had he found?

Arabella’s thoughts spun in circles, always returning to one word: witch. Whatever Raven discovered— it wasn’t about the throne, or the hunt, or even Cassius.

It was about her.

Before her mind could spiral further, a knock sounded at the door. Light. Controlled.

Expecting Renard and Lastor returning with herbs, Arabella stood and opened it without hesitation.

But what greeted her wasn’t Renard’s rumpled uniform or Lastor’s lazy smirk.

It was blue.

A gown the color of clear skies. Pristine, almost glowing in the gloom of the murky corridor.

For a heartbeat, Arabella stood frozen. The contrast was too sharp. The figure at the door didn’t belong, couldn’t belong, in this part of the castle.

Isabelle was standing with a wide smile on her lips. She looked far too posh to stand in such a dilapitated part of the castle. Her expression that was happy didn’t match the gloomy air of the hallway either and the wooden box she held seemed to say that she had came for a picnic.

"Isabelle?" Arabella asked with a smile, walking backward to let Isabelle walk in with a small nod.

"I came to see how you were doing... it’s been four days since then," Isabelle pretended that she didn’t care about the place but truthfully she had sneakily looked around to study what this room was about and why Arabella was kept here when it wasn’t the most protected part of the castle.

She noticed scribbles, one in a neat handwriting, another one that was terrible to even look at. Then there were tubes lying around and a small pot that was stirred with a wooden stick filled with a sky blue colored liquid.

There were more, Isabelle knew Arabella wasn’t the type to hide things and perhaps thinking that she had helped her life before, Arabella’s guard toward her lowered even more which allowed her to see the uncovered sigils written on the ground. The edges of the sigil had candles placed on them.

"I’m sorry it’s quite messy here," Arabella said softly, her voice trailing off as she glanced around the room. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the dagger Lastor had given her earlier. Moving quickly, she retrieved it and tucked it behind a stack of scattered papers she’d scribbled on in haste. "I was just... studying."

"Studying," Isabelle echoed with a hum, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her fingers grazed the parchment as she leaned in closer. "Looks like you have a diligent teacher... though their handwriting could use some grace."

Arabella flushed slightly and smiled, embarrassed. The handwriting was hers. Back in the village, she’d been taught by a kind woman, her sister’s friend, if she recalled right, but no one there had taught her the art of elegant script. They only taught what mattered: that her words could be read, that her thoughts could be heard.

"It’s mine," she confessed gently. "We were taught to be understood. Not to be pretty."

Isabelle’s smile softened, genuine this time. "There’s beauty in being understood."

Arabella’s gaze dipped briefly, warmed by the kindness but cautious nonetheless. "What were you studying?" Isabelle asked next, her tone light but inquisitive. "The history of Versailles?"

Arabella nodded. "That, and a few other things. But what brought you here, Isabelle? I think... it’s a risk if someone sees you. Especially with—" Her words halted deliberately, letting the silence fill in the unspoken name.

Isabelle didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached across the table and gently laid a hand atop Arabella’s, patting it with warmth that didn’t seem feigned.

"I know what you’re thinking," she said, her voice calm. "But I came because I wanted to. I’m the sort of person who stays by her dearest friend, even if the sky is falling, or the fire’s already lit beneath us."

Arabella’s eyes softened with quiet gratitude. There were few who would dare to speak such things aloud in this castle, let alone act on them.

"Still... it’s dangerous," she whispered. "You should return to your kingdom, at least for a few days. Things are unraveling here, and—"

"Oh, that’s no longer an option," Isabelle interrupted with a dry smile as she leaned on the edge of the table. "Did you know all the other engagement candidates have already left?"

Arabella blinked, startled.

It made sense, though. The air in the castle had changed. The power balance had shifted, Cassius’s arrest, Morgana’s manipulations, the baby’s death, it all painted a grim picture. Those women hadn’t fled out of fear alone. They fled because they knew the tides were rising, and no one wanted to drown in another kingdom’s war.

"But I stayed," Isabelle continued, almost as if reading her thoughts. "Some of the others stayed too, hoping that if they show loyalty, the Crown Prince might remember them. And some..." Her expression dimmed just slightly. "Some have no home to return to. Once you’re sent away for marriage, your homeland doesn’t always welcome you back. Not all daughters are missed."

Arabella’s chest tightened. She had never thought of them that way, not as pawns already discarded, but as women clinging to the only thread of future left to them.

Though Arabella was so close to Cassius, she had never known much about the women of the castles. Was that why Morgana was so desperate? No. Nothing could excuse Morgana’s behavior. Cassius himself had never tried to attack Malvo, her son, even after all the killing attempts made to him. She suspect that if Morgana hadn’t attacked him, Cassius would have never minded her existence and she could have retreated into a castle after the King’s death somewhere peaceful with a lot of money.

Just not the throne.

"But I stayed not because of the Crown Prince," Isabelle then said, "I wanted to be here and be there for you."

Arabella felt that the touch from Isabelle’s hand was a little too long before it parted and left. Isabelle then opened her picnic box, "Should we eat and talk? A little food should help you in studying."

Giggling, Arabella thanked her and partake in the small sandwiches that were made by Isabelle. She ate a little more than usual, maybe because Isabelle and her had talked for hours. She then looked at the clock, wondering why Lastor was so late.

Isabelle tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing over the rim of the tea cup as she hummed, "Do you remember what happened during the last human hunt?"

The question was asked so casually, light, as if it were idle conversation, but Arabella felt her heart jolt violently in her chest. Her spine stiffened ever so slightly, fingers tightening around her skirt.

"I... remember a little," she replied carefully. "I remember that you helped me. Protected me."

Isabelle’s eyes lingered on her, unreadable. "You remember that in detail?"

It was an odd thing to ask. Almost too specific. But Arabella didn’t think much of it, at least not yet.

"To be honest, not really," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "I remember the blood. The chaos. But everything else is... hazy. Maybe I was in too much panic. I only remember fragments."

A beat of silence passed. Then Arabella heard it, a whisper. Soft and strange. Isabelle’s lips moved, but the words were barely audible, like a prayer meant only for the dead.

"So that creature could put memories in her... where they don’t belong..."

Arabella blinked. "Isabelle?"

The other girl had gone still, her eyes lowered, her voice lost in the air. She seemed to be muttering again, but there was no sound.

"Oh," Isabelle looked up, startled as if caught in a dream. She blinked quickly, then gave a small, almost apologetic laugh. "No, I was just..."

Arabella cut in, her voice sharper now. "Curious what I am?"

And the air shifted instantaneously.

As if the temperature in the room dropped, as if the walls leaned in to listen. The shadows around them deepened, thickened, not from the light but from something far more ancient and knowing. Even the quiet began to feel heavy.

Isabelle didn’t move. Her hand rested lightly on the table, her expression still kind, still gentle, but her eyes... her eyes now looked different. Sharper, more magnetic, and a little bloodthirsty.

The warmth Arabella once felt radiating from her friend was still there but underneath it, something else stirred.

And Arabella realized, for the first time since she met Isabelle—

She didn’t know who she was speaking to.

"You’re wondering why I am now out?" The creature spoke with a brief giggle, "Well you should be curious. It seems Bella is interested in studying magic and as she became more in tune with her true self, it makes it easier for me to slip into her consciousness. I also get to play as her for a few times without her knowing or the people around her. But I doubt I could do it to the vampire she sleeps with. He was suspicous enough last time and if I showed up the second time, he’ll blast me out."

"YOU-" Isabelle fell from her chair. "The monster-"

"Hey," sung Arabella, "Calling her a monster is too much don’t you think? I’d rather be called a devil than a monster. Besides Arabella pretend she doesn’t care but truthfully she does feel hurt if someone calls her a monster. She has always try so hard to become a human yet now people are turning against her like she’s a creature who would bring them death..."

"What do you want," Isabelle’s voice turned tense.

"Hm," said Arabella, "How about making a promise with me, little Isabelle?"