The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 194

Chapter 194: Jealous Arlan

Arlan sure was upset with the things that happened today that how Oriana was so much drawn towards Ilven siblings and drinking was an effective way to get his mind over it.

Used to the refined taste of expensive wine, the Crown Prince of Griven winced as he downed his drink. The bold, unapologetic taste of the strong Othinian ale burned down his throat. The rich taste of malt was bitter and earthy, but the burning heat at the pits of his stomach made him want to refill his mug for the third time.

At the other side of the table, Azer sat next to Imbert. He took a flagon and poured him a drink. "Sir Loyset, for you."

Imbert looked like he would ignore him again but the knight captain accepted the mug as it would be rude to reject it.

Azer let out a sigh of relief. ’So he doesn’t hate me. I was starting to worry if I offended him without realizing.’’ He got another mug for himself. ’Men become friends when they share drinks, right? Shall I show Sir Loyset how good a drinker I am?’

As Arlan continued to urge Slayer into drinking, a man wearing a brown cloak came towards their table.

"Apologies for being late."

Arlan looked at the owner of the voice and could not help but frown inwardly.

"Have a seat, Prince Cian," Drayce offered.

It was obvious that Cian came directly to the tavern after leaving the royal palace, covering himself up with a traveler’s cloak as he was unable to change out of his royal clothes. He sat next to Drayce, the spot exactly opposite to Arlan.

"How is your hand?" Drayce asked as he pushed a mug towards him. "How bad is the injury?"

Cian raised his right hand and waved it in front of them. "Prince Arlan’s aide advised me to not hold a sword for a month. I am afraid it is difficult to follow, but since those words came from your trusted person, I have no choice but to keep his advice in mind."

Arlan glared at the prince’s hand where his wrist and palm were covered in bandages. Recalling Oriana daring to speak up in the garden, he could not help but grit his teeth. The grip of his hand tightened around the mug. _{freewebnσvel.cѳm}

"Your mug is empty, Arlan" Slayer spoke in reminder, nudging a flagon towards him to distract the prince from losing his temper. The sharp knight knew that the prince was merely a second away from breaking his mug.

Arlan let out a harrumph, before loosening his grip on his drink. He then emptied out another one down his throat, his unhappy gaze fixed on that bandaged hand of the Crown Prince of Abetha.

His mind started to wander about the events inside the drawing room, after Seren dragged her brother to be treated by Oriana.

His naive attendant, who had no concept of personal space, should have scooted right next to the prince, her manners unladylike as usual. She must have initiated contact, reaching out to hold his hand, her nimble fingers checking the man’s hand.