The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 510

Chapter 510: You Jerk!

Upon their arrival at the Rose Palace, servants graciously led them to a grand dining room where the entire family eagerly awaited them.

"Aunt, uncle!" a small figure dashed toward them.

Arlan scooped her up and gently pecked on her soft cheek.

"I thought aunt wouldn’t be here," Rayjin commented, looking at Oriana.

Oriana felt puzzled while Arlan asked with a playful pinch to her soft cheek. "Why wouldn’t your aunt be here?"

"I heard grandma telling my mother that you troubled my aunt, and she must be tired," Rayjin innocently explained.

Arlan exchanged a bemused glance with embarrassed Oriana, trying not to let a smile slip through. Then he raised a brow at the pair of mother and daughter.

Oriana felt relieved that the king was not there at least, that spared her from further embarrassment.

Julien and Alevra subtly shifted their gazes away from Arlan and exchanged uncertain glances. In hushed tones, Alevra whispered, "Mother, when did she overhear us talking?"

"I’m not sure," the queen replied in a similarly discreet tone. "Did she hear everything?"

"She is a child. She probably didn’t grasp the full context of what kind of trouble we were talking about," Alvera reassured. "Do not worry."

"Why do you trouble my aunt? She’s so pretty," Rayjin innocently inquired, once again capturing her uncle’s attention.

"She’s indeed very pretty, which is precisely why your uncle Arlan troubled her," Lenard chimed in with a polite bow towards his brother and sister-in-law. _{ƒreewebɳovel.com}

"Lenard, please refrain from making inappropriate comments in front of Rayjin," Alvera scolded her brother.

"Sister, this time it’s actually you and Mother who are in the wrong," Lenard countered, looking around the room with a mischievous smile. "You should be cautious about where you speak."

Well, Lenard was not wrong. This little girl was like a spy to appear anywhere to hear others talking.

Lenard turned his attention back to his brother with a playful smile, "So how was the night, brother?"

"Would you prefer to get beaten up in front of your wife or later, Lenard?" Arlan’s tone was icy cold.

"Hmm, maybe later," and returned to his place next to his wife, not willing to have a beating as his morning meal.

Miera lightly giggled at her husband’s reaction and whispered to him, "Why do you tease him?"

"It’s fun," he winked at his wife. "You will get used to it soon."

Arlan gently released Rayjin from his arms, saying, "Go ahead and sit in your chair."

"Yes, Uncle," the young girl responded, scampering to her seat next to her mother.

Arlan turned his attention to Oriana, who appeared somewhat uncertain of her place in the family dynamics. He offered a reassuring smile and gestured toward a chair. "Let’s take our seats."

He pulled out the chair for her, and she graciously sat down. As they settled in, the couple exuded a sense of perfect harmony, their union seamless to the eyes of the onlookers, concealing any differences that might exist between them.

The arrival of the King, accompanied by Duke Wimark, marked the beginning of the meal. The customary greetings were exchanged, with the King occupying the head of the family’s seat, while Rhys sat next to his wife.

For Oriana, this was an entirely new experience—a meal with the entire royal family, including the King, Queen, Cromwell siblings, and their respective partners. It felt strangely unfamiliar, as she had grown up with only her grandfather—a family of just two.

As the servants began serving the meal, the King gave the signal to start. The atmosphere was filled with pleasant conversation, laughter, and playful banter.

Oriana couldn’t help but observe the genuine happiness that radiated from the family gathered around her. It was difficult to reconcile this joyous scene with the suffering that had been inflicted upon them due to her family’s past mistakes. If her grandfather had not committed such a grave act as killing the Queen, she might have been a part of this family as well.

How could she sit here, enjoying a meal and the warmth of this lovely family?

A heavy sensation settled in her chest, and her throat tightened with overwhelming emotions. Oriana fought to maintain her composure and hide the turmoil that raged inside her.

Unexpectedly, she felt a warm palm cover her hand, which had been clutching her dress tightly on her thigh. Arlan’s hand gently caressed hers, coaxing her fingers to release their grip on the fabric. It was a comforting touch, as though he sensed her need for solace, even though he should be the last person to offer it.

With a heavy heart, Oriana glanced at the man seated beside her, who attentively placed more food into her still-full dish.

"Eat well," he whispered softly.

"I taught my son well," Julien commented, looking at the couple affectionately, "He sure knows how to take care of his wife."

"My dear, are you implying that I never took care of you? Have I failed in that regard?" The King asked as he raised a brow at his wife.

The Queen, amused by her husband’s response, smiled and reassured him, "I didn’t mean it that way, darling. I was simply praising our son."

The King, undeterred, scooped up some food and served it to his wife, saying, "Your favorite."

Lenard couldn’t resist teasing. "Looks like Father is getting jealous."

The King countered, maintaining his dignified appearance to not be overshadowed by his jealousy, "She is my wife, after all, so she should pay attention to me. You two have your own wives now to care for you. Don’t even think about stealing my wife’s attention."

Leonard tried to defend himself, "When did we ever try to—"

"Father is right, Leonard," Arlan interrupted, his eyes on Oriana. "We have our own wives to care for us. Isn’t it, my dear wife?"

Oriana, with no other option, nodded and resumed eating, her gaze lowered. She was taken aback when Arlan added, "I look forward to you taking better care of me."