The Devil's Betrothed

While Arlan indulged in the moment, a flurry of voices shattered his reverie.

"Your Highness! Where are you?"

"A messenger from the capital has arrived! Your Highness, we must return to the mansion immediately!"

'Ah!'

Just as Arlan exerted his arms to rise, a sharp pain seared across his torso, and he was swiftly flipped over by the masked woman, who seized the opportunity to break free. Her movements were several times faster than those of an elite knight. Despite his attempt to grab her, she eluded his grasp at the last possible moment.

All Arlan managed to snag was the cloth covering her head, affording him a glimpse of a cascade of reddish-brown locks flowing behind her as she fled.

The prince sat up with a resigned sigh. She hadn't even glanced back at him after the attack.

'How resolute.'

Once she vanished from his sight, Arlan examined the wound on his waist more closely. Blood stained his light blue tunic, giving it a more dire appearance than it was.

'She didn't strike deep. It seems she didn't intend to kill me.'

As he gazed in the direction she had vanished, an amused smile lingered on his face.

"Shortie, I'll ensure I find you and repay your 'kindness.' Your audacity in spilling royal blood won't go unpunished."

Arlan regained his feet and made his way back to his knights.

"Your Highness, you're bleeding!" the younger knight, Rafal, exclaimed upon spotting Arlan emerging from the cover of the trees.

Arlan shrugged. "Just a scratch." With measured steps, he strolled toward where he had left his horse, seemingly unfazed by the blood staining his attire.

Rafal cast a concerned look at Imbert, whose expression remained unchanged throughout. The royal knights then silently followed their liege as they exited the forest.

The Crown Prince of Griven, flanked by his two most trusted knights, headed their horses in the direction of the main mansion on the Wimark Estate.

Before long, they arrived at an elegant manor surrounded by lush gardens, where a carriage bearing the crest of the Cromwell Royal Family waited at the entrance.

All the servants in the vicinity halted their tasks at the sight of the handsome prince on horseback. While they paid their respects, none dared approach him, even after he dismounted, not even the stablehand.

Arlan had a reputation for being friendly and amiable, but he was decidedly strict about his possessions—only those he trusted could handle them. Arlan and Imbert silently made their way into the Wimark mansion, leaving their horses for Rafal to personally see to in the stables.

The messenger from the capital awaited him in the drawing room.

Spotting Arlan, the messenger, clad in armor, quickly rose and saluted. He was a familiar face, a knight from the Order of the Rose, the knights directly under the command of his mother, the Queen of Griven.

"Greetings, Your Highness, the Crown Prince."

Arlan strolled over and settled into a lounge chair, signaling a servant to pour him some tea. "What's the matter?"

The messenger was about to respond when he spotted the bloodstains on the Crown Prince's clothing. His eyes widened. "Your Highness, are you injured? Where is the physician—"

Arlan, his expression unmoved, motioned for him to continue. "Get to the point. What's the message?"

The messenger swallowed his unspoken words. Perhaps those in the countryside were unaware, but for those in the capital, the most formidable person in the kingdom was not the King or the Queen of Griven—it was Crown Prince Arlan.

"Your Highness, I bear a message from Her Majesty, Queen Julien."

Arlan casually savored his tea, his posture relaxed, as though he were listening to afternoon gossip.

"The royal entourage for the wedding of Second Prince Lenard will depart for Abetha in two days. The Queen asks that you return to the capital today; otherwise, it will disrupt the schedule."

"There's no need for that," Arlan replied.

"Pardon?"

"I've heard that the ship of the King of Megaris will be making a stop at Selve City in the south. Inform my parents that I will head there as the royal family's representative to welcome our esteemed guests. I'll join their party and travel with them to Abetha."

The messenger did not dare to question his decision.

"I will convey your message to Her Majesty."

Once the messenger departed, Arlan finished his tea and rose, intending to return to his room to freshen up. The other knight, Rafal, had now joined them. However, just as they were exiting the drawing room, the manor's butler approached.

The butler, an elderly, scholarly man named John, bowed. "Your Highness, the Duchess wishes to invite you for dinner in the rear garden."

Arlan narrowed his eyes at the servant. In the time it took to enjoy a cup of tea, it appeared the Duchess had already been informed of his little morning adventure.

He remarked, "It seems the servants here would excel in the art of espionage. Should I write a recommendation for your staff to consider a career change?"

"Your Highness, you jest," John said, a cryptic smile on his face as he lowered his head.

Arlan returned the smile. "Please inform her that I shall join my dear sister for a meal."

The butler nodded and exited, his head still respectfully lowered.

Arlan might have reacted less graciously had anyone else been keeping such close tabs on his actions, but given that this person was his elder sister, he had little choice but to accept it, albeit begrudgingly. The prince was a young man in his mid-twenties, a fully-fledged adult, but the Duchess of Wimark still tended to pamper her younger brother as if he were still a child.

Upon his return to his assigned guest room, a warm bath was already prepared for Arlan, along with a set of fresh clothes, arranged by the servants without his request.

As he removed his bloodied attire, a piece of black fabric slipped from his pocket. It was the headscarf left behind by the audacious intruder.

Arlan set the black cloth aside, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Returning a lost item to its owner is only proper, isn't it?"