Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 22: I Don’t Belong Here...

Chapter 22: I Don’t Belong Here...

Evelina stared into the roaring flames of the kitchen hearth, her body tense with anticipation. Heat radiated from the fire, warming her face and sending beads of sweat rolling down her temple.

Her heart pounded with both determination and fear as she clenched her fists at her sides.

’This has to work,’ she told herself. ’It’s my only way home.’

Relia’s voice broke through her thoughts, her tone laced with amusement and exasperation. "You do realize this is absolutely insane, don’t you?"

"It’s not insane if it works," Evelina muttered under her breath, her eyes never leaving the fire.

"If... If, Evelina. A big ’if,’ though," Relia countered. "And even if you do manage to go back, do you really think jumping into a blazing fire is the way to do it? Fire is hot, you know that, right?"

"Of course, I know that. I can feel it."

"Just making sure you know what you want to walk into. What if you just... die? Again?"

Evelina hesitated, her resolve faltering for a moment before she shook her head. "It’s how I got here in the first place, isn’t it? Maybe recreating it will reverse whatever pulled me into this world."

Relia sighed dramatically. "And maybe it’ll just make you a crispy snack. Look, I get it—you’re desperate. But this? This is reckless, even for you."

Ignoring her wolf’s warnings, Evelina glanced around the kitchen.

Most of the staff were absent, likely serving breakfast in the dining halls. The few remaining servants were busy near the back, their chatter muffled by the crackling of the flames.

It was the perfect moment.

Moving quickly, Evelina mistakenly hit a saucepan, knocking it down to the floor with a loud clatter. The noise startled the remaining servants, and she caught their confused stares as they hesitated near the back door.

"Everything’s fine," Evelina called out, forcing a smile. "Just a little accident."

The servants exchanged uncertain glances, recognizing her before reluctantly returning to their tasks. Though they gave Evelina the opening she needed, they kept their eyes on her.

None of them said a word, considering she’s the crown prince’s mate. But then, she’s also a suspect in his poisoning.

Evelina turned back to the hearth. "This is it," she whispered to herself.

Relia groaned. "I swear, if we survive this, I’m never letting you hear the end of it."

Ignoring the sarcastic quip, Evelina grabbed a bundle of dry kindling and tossed it into the hearth, stoking the flames higher. The fire blazed up with more strength, filling the air around her with heat.

Just as Evelina steeled herself to leap forward, a panicked shout erupted behind her.

"Milady! Stop!" one of the servants cried, rushing toward her.

Two other staff members joined the first, their faces pale with horror as they grabbed Evelina’s arms and pulled her back from the fire. She struggled against their grip, raising her voice in frustration.

"Let me go! You don’t understand—I have to do this!"

"Milady, you’ll kill yourself!" one of the servants pleaded, his grip tightening as Evelina thrashed against him. "Please, whatever’s wrong, we can help—just stop this madness!"

The struggle intensified as Evelina fought to free herself, but the servants held firm, their combined strength keeping her away from the flames.

Her heart pounded with desperation as she twisted in their grasp. "I said, let me go!"

One of the servants tightened his grip. "Milady, you’re not well! Please—"

"Stop telling me what I am!" Evelina spat, her fingers brushing the edge of the counter. She gritted her teeth, her hand grasping wildly for a weapon or distraction.

Her hand caught something cold and metallic. She clenched it instinctively, her knuckles whitening as she tried to wrench herself free one last time.

Suddenly, everything shifted.

The moment her fingers made contact with the goblet, a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Her vision blurred, and a vivid image burst into her mind—a hand, adorned with an colorful bracelet, extending the goblet toward someone.

The scene shifted, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of Damian’s face as he reached for the drink.

The vision faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Evelina gasping for breath. The servants’ voices became distant, drowned out by the pounding in her ears.

"What the hell was that?" Evelina whispered, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.

"Eve, what just happened?" Relia’s voice was filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Before Evelina could respond, a deep, commanding growl echoed through the kitchen, freezing everyone in place.

Damian stormed into the room, his silver eyes glowing with fury as his Alpha presence filled the space. The servants immediately released Evelina, their hands trembling as they backed away.

"Out," Damian barked. The servants scattered, leaving the kitchen empty save for Evelina and Damian.

Evelina collapsed onto her knees, her body trembling from a mixture of exhaustion and the lingering effects of the vision. Damian crossed the room in a few swift strides, his strong arms catching her before she could fall further.

"Evelina," His voice was softer now but still firm. "What the hell were you thinking?"

She looked up at him, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I... I thought it would take me back."

"Back where?" Damian demanded, his grip tightening slightly as his worry spilled over into frustration.

"Back to my world. Back to where I came from," Evelina’s voice was becoming weak, her vision swimming as she tried to focus on his face. "I thought... it was the only way."

Damian barely understood what she meant. He exhaled sharply, his anger giving way to concern and something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to name. "You could’ve killed yourself," he said quietly in relief.

"I had to try," Evelina whispered. "I don’t belong here, Damian."

His jaw tightened as he looked down at her, his silver eyes searching hers for answers she couldn’t give.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, its flames casting flickering shadows on the walls.

"You’re not doing this again," Damian said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Whatever it is you’re running from—or trying to prove—it’s not worth your life."

Evelina’s eyelids grew heavy as exhaustion finally overtook her. She sagged against Damian’s chest, her trembling body seeking the warmth of his embrace.

As consciousness slipped away, her last thought was of the vision—the hand, the goblet, and the unanswered question of who had poisoned Damian.