The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 451

Chapter 451: Let’s Make A Deal

Exiting the Queen’s chamber, Oriana made her way to the rear part of the palace. In the deserted corridor that stretched before her, Karla stood outside the entrance to the witch’s room. Oriana approached with a subtle smirk on her lips, while Karla, head lowered, avoided eye contact.

Halting in front of Karla, Oriana observed her still-disheveled state. "You look rather fetching like this, revealing your true nature - a mere slave," she remarked.

Karla gritted her teeth but remained silent.

"You’re not entirely useless," Oriana continued, her tone mocking. "It was quite satisfying channeling my anger through you. The next time I seek an outlet for my frustration, I’ll be sure to summon you. I hope by then your wrinkled cheeks have managed to heal, or I might be tempted to tear them apart."

"Master awaits you, Your Highness," Karla responded, trying to get rid of Oriana as soon as possible.

"So?" Oriana scoffed. "She’s nothing more than a lowly slave herself. If she weren’t confined here, I’d have someone drag her to me by her hair. Soon enough, she’ll be prostrate beneath my feet, where she truly belongs."

Karla could not challenge Oriana’s arrogant words. Oriana acted as if she were the queen, exerting control over the entire realm. Karla could only anticipate her master quashing the arrogance of this woman. Unbeknownst to her, Oriana’s rightful place surpassed the human kingdom; she was the Queen of witches, a status that was way higher than her role as the Queen of the human kingdom.

The door to the room swung open behind Karla, preparing to admit Oriana. Oriana cast a final glance at Karla. "I’m not finished with you yet. Once I’m through with your master today, you’ll learn the true meaning of pain and agony."

Oriana’s words sent shivers down Karla’s spine, unwittingly convincing her of their ominous truth.

Observing Karla’s apprehension, Oriana couldn’t help but smirk before entering the room. Her words to Karla held weight; Oriana despised her role in Arlan’s torment. As a nanny, she should have protected him, yet unwittingly, she contributed to his pain. Oriana was resolute in holding accountable every individual involved in Arlan’s suffering.

Upon stepping into the room, the door closed behind her, plunging the chamber into darkness despite the bright daylight outside. Only a faint glow allowed minimal visibility within the room.

"Aren’t you sick living in the dark room for decades?" " Oriana commented, scanning her surroundings.

A voice emerged from the shadows, retorting, "Aren’t you afraid to return here?"

"I do not fear a sick person," Oriana retorted, turning towards the source of the voice. "As a physician, I am equipped to address both physical and mental sickness, such as yours."

"You have a sharp tongue like your mother," the witch said mockingly, "and you will meet the same end as her. Only difference is that your body wouldn’t be able to leave this room with the original soul in it."