The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 548

Chapter 548: Mother’s Room

Philip remained unusually quiet after the departure of the king and queen, his mind seemingly entangled with weighty thoughts. Oriana, having concluded her discussion with Erich regarding Aunt Gwen’s well-being, returned to her grandfather’s side. "Grandpa, what’s occupying your thoughts?"

"Grandpa, what are you thinking about?" she asked, looking at the quiet old man.

"I was wondering if our home still exists here in the city," he replied.

"It does, Grandpa," Oriana assured, "I have visited there once, and it’s been well taken care of under the order of the King."

It surprised the old man. He had been thinking that after he was gone, his home must have been taken down, and they would have been declared as traitors, but nothing of that sort had happened.

"Grandpa, would you like to visit that home?" Oriana asked.

"I want to," he replied, his voice trailing off, "I... want to take my last breath in my home."

Philip was aware his days were numbered, and so was Oriana. Swallowing her own sadness, she replied calmly, "I will arrange for us to leave."

Oriana instructed Rafal about it, and soon the arrangements were made, and the two left the palace. They arrived at the Verner residence, which was preserved as it is. Few servants were already present there to welcome them.

As Philip observed his surroundings, old memories flooded his mind—the days spent within these walls with his precious daughter, the joyous occasion of Oriana’s birth. The recollections brought tears to his eyes. If only that witch had never entered their lives, if only his daughter hadn’t been so kind-hearted, if only he could have intervened before everything unraveled. Then, perhaps, everything would remain as it once was—his beloved Amaya would come running to greet him, her smile lighting up the surrounding.

After a brief exploration of the manor, Oriana guided Philip to his room, ensuring he was settled with a light meal and his medications. Once he was resting, Oriana emerged to speak with Rafal. "Sir Ahren, please send word to Thistle Palace that I’ll be staying here tonight with my grandfather," she requested.

Rafal nodded, promptly dispatching a messenger to deliver the message. Meanwhile, as Philip rested, Oriana took the opportunity to explore the residence. During her previous visit, she hadn’t the time nor the inclination to explore. Now, however, she felt a sense of curiosity about the place that had once been her family’s home.

The sun had long since set, casting the manor into darkness. Oriana’s lodging for the night was in the room that had once belonged to her mother. As she settled into bed, she couldn’t shake the feeling of closeness to her mother, as if the very essence of Amaya lingered within these walls.

She longed for her mother’s presence, imagining how she would have treated her, knowing Oriana’s stubborn and willful nature. Would Amaya have been strict, molding her into a proper lady, or would she have embraced Oriana’s spirit, guiding her with love and understanding? So many questions filled Oriana’s mind as she drifted off to sleep, another eventful day drawing to a close.

"I wonder how she even looked. There is no portrait of her in this room. Perhaps Grandpa has one? I’ll ask him tomorrow. I also have to inquire about my mother’s grave, if she indeed passed away. And... who is my father? Where is he?" Oriana’s mind buzzed with questions, but she decided to postpone them. "Let’s save it for tomorrow. I’ve waited this long; another night won’t hurt."

She didn’t want to overwhelm her grandfather with so many inquiries at once, so she resolved to exercise patience. Restless, she continued to stare at the ceiling, sleep eluding her. Suddenly, realization struck her. "I forgot to bring the knife. Damn... I can’t sleep now. If I do, that demon will reach me through my dreams. I can’t let him reach me."

Worried, Oriana rose from her bed and made her way to the window. Gazing at the starry sky, she resolved not to succumb to sleep, despite feeling mentally and physically drained. "Not sleeping for a night won’t kill me. Just think about it, I’m deep in the forest; if I fall asleep, a wild animal could devour me."

As time passed, Oriana struggled against the encroaching drowsiness. "I can hold out," she reassured herself. Just then, a pair of hands enveloped her from behind, offering comforting warmth. "Can’t sleep?" a voice whispered near her ear.

Oriana was a little surprised at his presence here. She had thought Arlan would never come to this home, which belonged to her family.

"I couldn’t bring myself to sleep," she admitted. "How did you know I’d be here?"

"You’d be in your mother’s room, isn’t it obvious thing?" Arlan remarked, his grasp tightening around her.

"You know this is my mother’s room. Have you been here in the past?" Oriana inquired, seeking clarity.

"Hmm, many times, whenever my mother used to visit here," Arlan replied casually.

"Do you have memories of my mother?" Oriana pressed further, curiosity tinged with a hint of longing in her voice.

"I do, and of one little baby who was born in this very home and was betrothed to me," Arlan revealed, his words sparking a mix of surprise and realization in Oriana.

"You mean me? You’ve seen me before, and you remember me as well," Oriana exclaimed, turning to look at him, her eyes wide with astonishment.