The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 338

Chapter 338: Inner Battle

For the rest of the afternoon, Oriana slept soundly in bed, while Arlan stayed in the room to keep an eye on her. Due to his constitution, despite his lack of sleep, he was not as tired as the rest of their group. Simply sitting by his mate’s bedside was enough rest for him.

Whenever she needed to use the washroom, though embarrassed, she had to accept his help to walk. Her injuries might not be life-threatening, but personally tending to her needs soothed Arlan’s guilty conscience.

It was evening when Oriana stirred awake again, only to find a single oil lamp illuminating the room. She found Arlan’s tall silhouette standing by the open window, looking outside.

She sat up in bed and her movements caught Arlan’s attention, prompting him to look at her. He frowned at the sight of her struggling to sit up and hurried to arrange a pillow behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. Like I fell down a cliff."

"Be serious."

"Better than this morning, Your Highness."

She felt much better, though the muscles of her entire body continued to ache. Her strained left shoulder and hand injury throbbed in pain, but it was tolerable. It was probable that her outward appearance was worse than her actual injuries, since she’s covered in cuts and bruises.

It was a surprising discovery for her though. From her experience, such injuries would take her patients at least a week to heal this much. It did give her an impression that her situation was not as bad as she originally thought; what she didn’t realize was that it was her witch bloodline causing her fast recovery.

After they had an evening meal, Arlan informed her. "We will be leaving tomorrow morning."

She nodded, as if to say she understood, and then said, "Your Highness, can you help me up?"

When she said those words, he was about to stoop down to carry her. He paused with furrowed brows. "Can you stand now?"

"As long as I don’t put pressure on my ankle."

Arlan held her hand to assist her to her feet. "The washroom?"

"To the couch please," she answered, her gaze landing on the quaint-looking couch on the other side of the room.

Arlan immediately understood her intention. The temperature inside the room plummeted.

"You are sleeping on the bed," he said with an air of finality.

Oriana already expected such a response from him. "Your Highness, I had been occupying your bed the entire day. I am merely wounded, not crippled. Besides, do not forget I am your servant. I am more used to sleeping on a couch."

In response, Arlan lifted her legs back on the mattress and settled her body under the blanket. "Stop talking nonsense and sleep. It’s getting late."

"Your Highness, you..."

"If you are concerned about where I will sleep, then let me tell you: I have no intention of spending my night sitting on a chair," he said and went to lie on the empty side of the bed, forcing her to scoot over to her side.

As it was the best room offered by an ordinary inn, although it was large enough for two people to share, the bed felt rather cramped since one of them was a tall and well-built man.

"T-This—"