The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 501

Chapter 501: Oriana’s POV- I Do Not Deserve You

Oriana’s attendants dressed her in a beautiful silk nightdress, its luminous sheen akin to pearls that complemented her slender frame exquisitely. The long sleeves enveloped her delicate arms, adorned with intricate frills at the wrists, gracefully covering her small palms. The round neckline accentuated her elegant swan-like neck, revealing her delicate collarbones and emanating a feminine charm that radiated from her entire being, not to forget her mesmerising beautiful face.

As she faced her reflection in the mirror, Ana delicately combed through Oriana’s long hair, removing any jewellery intricately woven into the strands, leaving her long hair locks gracefully free at the back. She looked beautiful that even her servants could not take her eyes off of her whether she was wearing bride’s dress or in this delicate night dress.

However, Oriana’s gaze seemed distant, as if absorbed in her own thoughts rather than examining her own image.

The servants, unaware that Oriana’s natural scent might be more alluring to her husband, had applied a captivating essence to her body. Once prepared, the other attendants departed, leaving Ana behind.

Observing Oriana’s uncharacteristic demeanor on her wedding night, Ana couldn’t help but notice the absence of reaction from any newly wedded bride on her wedding night, devoid of any nervousness or shyness. Instead, Oriana exuded an unusual calmness, seemingly prepared for whatever the unfolding events might bring.

"Your Highness, are you alright?" Ana inquired.

Oriana lifted her gaze, meeting Ana’s eyes from the reflection in the mirror. "Is everything ready?" she responded, skillfully sidestepping Ana’s concern.

Ana discreetly swallowed her words of concern, and nodded. "Let me escort you, Your Highness," Ana offered.

Rising from her seat, Oriana walked toward the main chamber with Ana following closely. Ana hesitated before speaking again, "Your Highness, would you care for some water?"

"I am fine," Oriana replied, turning towards the window to gaze outside.

Ana felt a sense of worry and wished her mistress would share any concerns that might be troubling her. However, as was often the case, Oriana remained reticent. Not wanting to prolong her stay, Ana left the room, aware that the Crown Prince would arrive soon.

"Good night, Your Highness," Ana uttered quietly before exiting the chamber and closing the door behind.

Oriana’s gaze lingered on the darkened sky as her thumb absentmindedly traced the contours of the ring on her finger. Lowering her gaze, she fixed her attention on the beautiful ring in her finger. With gentle strokes, she continued to caress the ring, lost in contemplation.

’I wonder if I even deserve to wear it.’

Returning her gaze to the horizon, Oriana found herself adrift in a sea of thoughts. Though she was aware of everything that had transpired since regaining consciousness after the incident that night, the whirlwind of events had left her emotions and mental state in disarray.

The betrayal cut deep—the moment he injected that needle into her neck, paralyzing her. Despite her desperate attempts to stop him, her magic failed against him. Her efforts to send a magical message to Yorian were similarly failed as if she was not able to perform any kind of magic. The drug had not just paralysed her body but weakened her ability to use magic.

Were it not for the pendant her master Zaria had bestowed upon her, enabling her to call for help, she would have remained confined to that bed, unable to save him, let alone being able to see him for the last time.

Her Master Zaria, sensing her plight, provided a potion that lessened the effects of the drug, allowing her to stand on her feet and reach him with Zaria’s assistance. Witnessing him on the brink of sacrificing his life, Oriana felt an overwhelming surge of despair. She was prepared to go to any lengths to save him, even if it meant surrendering her body to that evil witch.

But she failed to protect him. Before her eyes, the witch plunged that divine weapon into his heart, as if making her worst nightmare come true. With each weakening beat of the energy barrier, she felt his last breath slipping away, and with it, she sensed herself surrendering to the abyss of despair. The desire to live evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming surge of helplessness, hatred, and anguish—emotions that rendered life unbearable.