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Chapter 197 Root Of Blackthorn
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Emily stared at the marking on her chest in
the mirror, which she hadn't noticed when
she got dressed earlier that morning. It
bore a striking resemblance to the
root-like markings that once marked the
backs of her brother's hands. But what did
that have to do with her?
"Ah!" She winced in agony as a searing pain
shot through her, akin to a lightning bolt
striking her chest, serving as a stark
reminder of the fragile state of her soul.
The pain refused to relent, coursing
through her body and causing her to lose
her balance and collapse to the ground.
Upon hearing a faint noise coming from
inside the room, Julia turned the doorknob
and entered, letting out a gasp.
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"Princess! Are you alright?!" Julia asked, her
voice filled with alarm. She quickly bent
down to help Emily raise her head, who
was hunched over in pain, her face
hanging low towards the floor.
"I…" Emily took a deep breath as her vision
slowly returned after the blinding pain. "I—
I need water. Water," she gasped.
The maid swiftly rose and made her way to
the table where the water jug was placed.
Pouring some into a glass, she hurriedly
returned to Emily's side with it.
Emily's lips trembled as she gulped the
water down in slow sips. Unshed tears had
pooled in the corners of her eyes as a
result of both the intense pain and the
realisation that Nathaniel and Layla's bond
had grown stronger. She inhaled deeply,
her chest heaving with each breath.
"Should I order a physician to attend to
you, Princess Emily? You appear to be
sweating," Julia inquired, noting the
temperature inside the castle was colder ©Physients.com.ng
than the outside. "I can go and—"
When her maid attempted to stand up,
Emily reached out and grasped the young
woman's hand to stop her. She whispered,
"Don't."
She didn't suffer from an illness that
medicines could remedy. This was a
condition beyond the physician's control.
Emily felt the urge to cry, but she knew
that tears wouldn't fix anything, and she
silently cursed the unfortunate luck that
had befallen her. Was this what people
meant when they said that the offspring
inherited the parents' fortune? This is
what kismet, the inescapable destiny, was,
she thought to herself. Despite her love for
her father and his affection for her, he had
caused harm to many people during his
lifetime, and it seemed she was now
bearing the consequences of his actions.
When the pain persisted and Emily could
still feel the relentless tug in her heart as if
it were attempting to tear apart, she
composed herself and said,
"Bring me the robe, Julia."
"Princess?" Julia asked as Emily let go of
her hand.
"My night robe…"
"Yes!" The maid quickly fetched the robe
while Emily got to her feet. She helped the
princess put on the robe, and as she tied
the belt around her waist, her eyes
widened in astonishment upon noticing
the marking on the princess's chest.
Emily didn't remain in her room and
instead made her way into the corridor,
proceeding down a short flight of stairs
before climbing another set on the
opposite side. The maid, realising that the
princess wasn't in a presentable state for
wandering the castle's corridors, trailed
behind her to the staircase. However, upon
seeing the seriousness on the princess's
face, she decided to stop following her
further.
Emily spotted Westley and questioned
him, "Where is King Raylen?"
"He is in the drawing room," Westley
answered in a dull tone, his expression
barely changing.
"Which room is the drawing room?" Emily barely changing.
"Which room is the drawing room?" Emily
inquired, and the servant stared at her for
a moment before responding,
"It is the second room on the left."
"Thank you," Emily murmured before
swiftly departing.
In the next moment, Lauren caught sight
of the princess in her robes, which struck
her as peculiar, and she asked, "Where is
the princess headed to?"
"To meet Master."
Lauren's eyes widened. "Now? He's busy
with his meal at the moment!"
"He said to assist the lady during her stay
here," Westley replied flatly. Lauren pursed
her lips and followed after the princess.
However, before the head servant could
intervene, the young woman had already
pushed open the doors of the drawing
room.
Emily's attention was drawn to the mass of
blonde hair and the slender back of a Emily's attention was drawn to the mass of
blonde hair and the slender back of a
woman whom she unmistakably
recognised as Gloria, who was bare from
the waist up. Seated next to the woman
was Raylen, who had taken a relaxed
position on the corner of the couch, his
lips stained with blood. The buttons on his
shirt had been undone. Westley had
omitted any mention of him being
occupied, which was why she hadn't
expected him to have company. A flush of
embarrassment tinged her cheeks at the
sight, and she quickly averted her gaze.
"You really need to teach your niece how
to knock, Raylen," Gloria remarked, hastily
covering the front of her body with her
dress. This was the second time this had
occurred, and it had been two days in a
row, and she was far from pleased with the
interruptions.
"My sincere apologies. I wasn't informed that you were busy and had company,"
Emily replied. "I will come back at a later
time." With that, she reached for the
doorknob, ready to shut the door.
"I was just finishing my last sips," Raylen
replied, his eyes bright. He said, "Come in."
But Emily remained at the door, only
listening to the shuffling sounds from
within until Gloria reached the entrance.
The woman smiled at her before saying,
"You shouldn't be so reliant on Raylen,
you might see." The woman added, "It
makes it appear suspicious as well.
Goodnight, Lady Emily."
Emily watched the woman walk away, the
soft clicking of her heels against the floor
gradually fading as she moved farther away
from the drawing room.
"What pressing matter brings you to my
door?" Raylen inquired, redirecting her
attention to him.
Emily noticed him licking the blood
residue off his lips as he watched her. Her
eyes were briefly distracted by his exposed
chest before she looked up to meet his
blue eyes. She said, "I have some questions
about the Blackthorn Palace and its
connection to soulmates. I was hoping you
might have some answers… as you were
one of the cursed."
"You will need to be a little bit more
specific here, Princess," Raylen responded
as he walked over to a small trolley next to
the couch and poured himself a drink.
"Take a seat."
Emily hesitated for a fleeting moment
before she stepped inside the room and sat
down on the other side of the couch,
positioning herself away from him. She
then inquired,
"When soulmates don't form a bond, break
it, and then create another bond, does the
one left behind face any consequences?
Such as marks."
"No. Any repercussions are related to the
soul and the mind." Raylen turned around,
taking a sip and studying her. When he
noticed her gaze, he inquired, "Where is
your mark located?"
Emily replied, "On my chest. It looks similar
to what Brother Dante used to have."
It would have been easier if she had known
the meaning behind the mark and its
implications, but Dante had always avoided
discussing it, and she hadn't pressed him
for more information back then. Emily
heard Raylen click his tongue, and instead
of returning to his previous spot, he
walked over to where she was, coming to a
stop in front of her.
"I can take a look at it. If you will allow me,"
Raylen offered, knowing the princess was
too proper to let him see her skin without
permission.
"Look?"
"Just look," Raylen affirmed.
If it were any other time, Emily would have
thrown the nearest available object at his
head. However, she had drawn the short
straw, and she was desperate for his help.
Her gaze briefly shifted to his shirt before
returning to meet his eyes.
Raylen bit back the remark that hovered on
the edge of his tongue as he noticed the
distress in Emily's expression. He
proceeded to fasten the three open
buttons on his shirt, all the while watching
her gingerly untie the belt of her robe,
causing it to partially open. Avoiding his
gaze, she pushed her robes aside to reveal
the inner petticoat. The neckline dipped to
the upper swell of her breasts, exposing
the root-like markings on her pale skin.
When Raylen first met Emily, she was still a
young girl, but it appeared that over the
past few years she had blossomed into a
beautiful woman. Her dark blonde hair
flowed freely, cascading behind her shoulders. Sitting down next to her, he
took a closer look at the marking before
pulling away and stating,
"Theoretically, the curse should have
ended with Dante, as it began with him.
But somehow, it has extended to you,
being a Blackthorn. In your case, it might
not be a negative thing because it will
allow you to gauge whether you are
healing or deteriorating. Did the mark just
appear recently?"
"A few minutes ago," Emily replied,
adjusting her robe back to its previous
state. "And what about the pain? Is it part
of the curse too?"
"It serves as a reminder. In time, the
markings will begin to spread, and if you
wish to break the curse, you know what to
do," Raylen remarked as he picked up his
glass from the table.
"It is more challenging than it appears,"
Emily replied, her gaze shifting to the
fireplace flickering in the room. She felt
the ache spreading in her chest, and she
flinched.
"Want some? It might help with the pain,"
Raylen offered, extending the glass to her.
"Is that why you drink?" Emily inquired as
she stared into his blue eyes.
Raylen smiled, a sweet smile filled with
kindness, but Emily knew better than to
fall for it. He said, "You know, Princess, for
someone who doesn't like me, you
certainly have an awful lot of questions for
me."
"They are usually rhetorical," Emily
responded.
"And what about the other times?" The
smile on Raylen's lips slowly began to
widen.
"Perhaps I don't want to leave this world
with lingering unanswered questions on
my mind," Emily replied as the pain in her
chest began to subside. Her words elicited
a chuckle from him.
"It would be a pity to let the princess die
like that," Raylen responded. Returning to
their previous conversation, he continued,
"What I said earlier is only my guess, but I
will send my cute servants to investigate
whether there is something more
concerning the curse or if it has undergone
a mutation." ©physients.com.ng
As Emily rose from her seat, he remarked,
"Lately, you seem to be on everyone's
favourite list—entangled with death,
plagued by bugs, and who knows what else
waits for you in the darkness?"
"I do my best," Emily replied dryly. She
offered him a bow and said, "Thank you for
answering my questions."
Before she could leave the room, Raylen
said, "You know, you aren't entirely like
your grandmother. You are a little too pure
compared to her."
"Why does it feel like that wasn't a
compliment?" Emily asked, and she saw
him gaze back at her from his seat.
"Probably because it wasn't," Raylen
replied, taking a sip from his glass. He
continued, "If you are willing, there's a way
to slow down the corruption of your soul.
It might not be something you want to do
at this moment, but it's worth considering
if things unfold differently than what you
have planned."
Emily, who had been on the verge of
leaving, halted and wondered what his
suggestion might entail. However, taking
into account Raylen's choice of words, she
could guess it wasn't something that would
bring her joy. With her life hanging in the
balance, she said,
"I am listening."
"Allowing an archdemon to suck out the
corrupted blood from you."
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