The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62: Need Her Scent

Arlan and his mother, together with his brother and his new wife, went on a leisurely sightseeing tour on their return trip to Griven. The royal entourage of Griven took their time traveling, making stops at the various cities and residences of city lords.

The Queen of Griven, in particular, rarely had a chance to leave the palace due to her high status. She took this opportunity to enjoy the scenery with her sons and daughter-in-law.

"How many days till we reach Karlin?" Arlan asked Imbert.

It was nighttime, and the Crown Prince was currently in a guest room in the estate of the House of Loyset. The royal family had halted in the merchant city at the border of Griven and Abetha which was ruled by the marquis household. Marquis Loyset, the current commander of the royal knights and the King’s guardian knight, was Imbert’s father.

As vassal knights serving the Cromwells for many generations, the House of Loyset was granted the northwest territory of Griven, rich in trade due to its favorable location, for their loyalty.

The small but prosperous marquisate was Imbert’s hometown.

"At our current pace, if we only stay a day in the next two cities, we’ll arrive in less than a week," Imbert answered.

"Alright," Arlan said. He then dismissed his knight and retired for the night.

Tired from the long journey, the prince drifted off to sleep with no issue, but that did not last long. The expression on his face turned restless, and once again, he had that horrible nightmare.

After struggling, trapped in the memories of his past, he woke up gasping loudly, his entire body covered in sweat.

’Mother...’

His face buried in his palms, Arlan took a long time to realize he was no longer a child witnessing his mother’s death. There was also no golden creature threatening him. It was all but a bad dream.

He inhaled deeply a few times and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had always had these nightmares and was nothing new for him, but they somewhat changed recently. The same scenes began to feel more real and more frightening with each passing day and he didn’t know what to do.

Arlan stood up and got water for himself to drink, but still, his mind was restless. His heart continued to race, and even the act of breathing felt like a chore.

The overwhelming grief, he had no idea how to deal with it. He hated it—how helpless and weak he felt. He wanted to be numb, to simply not feel, or else, he had no idea what he would do once he could no longer handle it.

He was reminded of something and went to the sword stand where his sword was kept. Wrapped around the grip and hilt like a tassel was a black cloth. Since he snatched that cloth Oriana used to cover her head, he kept it with him. That cloth had that comforting scent of honeysuckles which he could not part away from. For some odd reason, that scent could calm him.

He unwrapped that fabric from his sword and brought it with him to bed.

’This scent works better than chamomile or lavender.’

He rubbed that cloth gently in his fingers, a crease forming between his brows.

’But the scent is fading. It’s already a miracle the fragrance lasted this long. What should I do when it is completely gone?’