The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 518

Chapter 518: Guest

The following morning, Oriana stirred from sleep, her head weighed down as if burdened by a heavy stone. Blinking open her eyes, she found herself greeted by the familiar sight of her chamber’s ceiling.

"Am I back from the tavern?" she mumbled to herself, her voice hoarse with remnants of the night before.

Casting a glance around the room, she noticed its emptiness. The drawn curtains shielded the room from the sunlight, yet thin beams of light filtered through, indicating a late morning.

With a concerted effort, Oriana shifted and sat up in bed, a symphony of groans escaping her throat. Not only her head but her entire body felt leaden, resistant to movement.

Pressing her palms against her temples, Oriana retraced the events of the previous night. Seren’s face immediately came to mind.

’Her Majesty, she drank a lot as well. I hope she is fine and King Drayce is not angry at us.’

Surveying the chamber once more, Oriana noted Arlan’s absence, a usual presence upon her waking. ’Is he upset with me for causing a scene while Her Majesty was in my company?’ she wondered, a hint of concern creasing her brow.

Just then, as if responding to her thoughts, the curtains billowed open, flooding the room with glaring sunlight that stung Oriana’s eyes. Simultaneously, the chamber door creaked open, drawing Oriana’s gaze.

Slowly adjusting to the brightness, Oriana discerned a tall figure entering, bearing a wooden tray in his hands. He approached the bedside, his gaze fixed upon her, though its meaning remained elusive.

"Good afternoon," his voice broke the silence, pulling Oriana’s attention away from the window. A surge of disbelief coursed through her. Had she truly slept that long?

"G-Good afternoon," she stammered in response, her uncertainty palpable.

Seating himself at the edge of the bed, he presented a small bowl on the tray. "Drink this," he instructed.

Recognizing the remedy for her hangover, Oriana wordlessly accepted the bowl. The liquid within promised relief, despite its bitter taste. She swallowed it down without complaint, unwilling to provoke the man beside her.

Returning the empty bowl to the tray, Oriana mustered the courage to inquire, "How is Her Majesty?"

Arlan’s countenance remained composed, betraying none of his inner thoughts. "What do you think?" he countered, prompting a pang of guilt within Oriana.

"Is His Majesty angered?" she ventured further, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Raising a single brow, Arlan’s tone held a hint of possessiveness. "Could anyone dare to be angry with my wife? Not even my closest friend would dare."

Speechless at his assertion, Oriana absorbed his words in silence.

"She is well," Arlan reassured, his demeanor unwavering. "Get ready. Someone is on their way to meet you."

"To meet me?" Oriana echoed, her confusion deepening.

"Hmm."

"Who?"

"Someone who might capture your interest," Arlan responded cryptically before rising from the bed. "Prepare yourself and eat some food first."

Leaving Oriana to ponder his enigmatic words, Arlan departed the chamber, leaving her in the care of her attendants.

After a brief bath and a meager meal consumed with distracted thoughts, Oriana descended to the foyer, her mind consumed with anticipation about the mysterious meeting ahead. Guided by the servants, she made her way to the Drawing room.

Inside, Arlan sat upon a couch, engaged in conversation with his knights, who stood attentively, listening to his instructions. As Oriana entered, Arlan’s gaze shifted toward her, prompting a respectful bow from all present in acknowledgment of the Crown Princess.