Chapter 61

The path was eerily quiet as I made my way toward the dilapidated manor at the edge of the capital. Milla's directions had been clear, and now, standing in front of the crumbling structure, I felt a pang of unease. This was where Delilah, Lucian's former wife, had been hidden away like some shameful secret. All for failing to provide him with an heir. 

I went in through the back door that was left unguarded, avoiding anyone who could be watching. I quickly realised that the manor was empty. With no one to help Delilah deal with herself, I stepped into the dark, musty interior. The air smelled of damp wood and decay.

"Who's there?" a shrill voice echoed from deeper inside the manor.

"It's Lady Arin," I called, keeping my tone steady. "I've come to speak with you, Lady Delilah."

There was a rustling sound, then footsteps. Delilah emerged from the shadows, her once-beautiful face gaunt and hollowed. Her wild eyes narrowed at me, and before I could react, she lunged.

"You!" she screamed, her hands clawing at my cloak. "You are the witch!! You killed him! You killed my son!"

I stumbled back, throwing my arms up to block her blows. "Stop! Stop it!" I shouted. "I didn't kill your son!"

Her nails grazed my cheek, but I managed to push her away. She stumbled, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

"You were there!" she spat, her voice filled with venom. "You were the reason he's gone!"

I straightened, my own anger rising. "I was there because you were in labor and needed help! I only tried to save you and your child. How dare you blame me for something that wasn't my fault?"

"Is it not enough that you made my life miserable when I was in the castle?! Must you blame me for your unborn son's death too! Must I be blamed?"

Delilah froze, her wild gaze softening for the first time.

"You needed someone to blame," I continued, my voice steady but sharp. "And I was the easiest target. You knew I was all alone and almost everyone hated me, so I was the perfect target. But deep down, you know the truth. I didn't kill your son, Delilah. You're just too afraid to face the pain on your own. You've been afraid for a long time." 

Her shoulders slumped, and she sank to the floor, her hands trembling.

"I..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I...." 

I crouched down in front of her, meeting her tear-filled eyes. "You've been consumed by your grief. But blaming me won't bring him back. I was just trying to help you and you know it." 

Delilah nodded slowly, wiping at her eyes.

I softened my tone. "Delilah, I need your help."

She looked up at me, confused. "What?" 

"Because," I said, "I'm to be married to your mate, Prince Lucian in two days." 

Her face twisted in pain, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She clutched her heart. "Lucian..." she choked out. "My mate... he severed the mating bond. Do you know what that feels like? To have your soul ripped apart? Over and over again? It feels like dying a little every day." 

I nodded, though I couldn't fully understand her pain. "I know it must have been unbearable. What he did to you was unbelievably cruel and wicked. But I'm asking you to focus now. You still have the power to stop this wedding. You have the power to stop it now." 

Delilah shook her head, her hands trembling. "I can't go back there. I'm banned from the castle. They'd turn me away at the gates. He made sure he would never have to see me again. I've tried so many times." 

I reached into the bag I'd brought, pulling out a gown, a heavy cloak, and a vial of perfume. "Not if you're disguised as a guest for the wedding." 

She stared at the items in disbelief.

"This perfume will mask your scent," I explained. "And I've procured an invitation for you. You'll be able to slip into the castle unnoticed as long as you wear the proper disguise. The guards might not look too closely at you because they have a lot of work...."

Delilah hesitated, her fingers brushing over the fabric of the gown. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want to ruin your own wedding? Isn't it an honour to be married to a prince? You will become a princess."

"I was a princess once... don't you want that?" 

I stood, turning toward the door. "I have my reasons."

"That is not an answer," she said, her voice steadier now.

I glanced back at her, my expression unreadable. "Just be there, Delilah. Do what needs to be done."

Without waiting for her response, I left the manor, my heart pounding. If Delilah could cause enough chaos, it would give me the time I needed to set my own plans into motion.

As I walked back toward the castle, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Delilah was fragile, broken by her past, and here I was, using her pain to my advantage. But I didn't have the luxury of hesitation. Revenge required sacrifices, and I couldn't afford to lose focus now.

.........

The great hall was bustling with excitement as servants rushed to prepare for the arrival of Prince Reagan, his wife Princess Blanca, and the Princess Eleanor. I lingered near the edge of the room, unsure of how to act.  I was never close with the Prince or the Princesses during my time in the castle as Rowan's wife. But it seemed as if the  upcoming wedding had made me the center of attention, a role I detested.

When the grand doors opened, I stood a little straighter, watching as Prince Reagan entered. He looked younger than Lucian but carried himself with the same air of authority. With the same proud look on his face. His wife, Princess Blanca, followed close behind, her hand resting on her heavily pregnant belly. Her other hand held the fingers of Princess Eleanor, who in the few months since I've been away had blossomed into a woman. Apparently they had gone to the Western Isles to get a betrothed to the son of a chief of a wolf clan. .

"My son!!" The Royal Concubine Elana greeted proudly, her voice excited but formal. "It is good to have you back in the castle. Oh how I have missed you all." 

Reagan offered a polite bow. "It is good to be back, mother." He looked at King Rowan, who stood silently at his wife, a stone faced Isabelle side. "Your Majesty." 

Rowan gave him a curt nod but said nothing. I felt his tension even from across the room. I avoided eye contact with him, unable to bring myself to look at him after everything that had happened. I just couldn't. No nagger how much I tried. Thankfully, his eyes were away from mine, he didn't even spare me a glance.

I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Princess Blanca stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. "It's wonderful to return home after such a long journey. The Western Isles were kind to us, but nothing compares to our home here in Zaire. We missed it every day we were away." 

"And yet you stayed away for eight months. Interesting." King Rowan mused.

Eight months? If they had stayed away for eight months, it means they had left around the time I was executed. It means they had left right after Rowan had been pronounced the Crown Prince. 

Everyone looked at Rowan, but no one dared say anything. 

Meanwhile, Queen Isabelle's expression darkened at the sight of Blanca’s bulging belly, her fury imminent.

And without a word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the hall.