The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 154: Eyes are watching you.

Chapter 154: Eyes are watching you.

"Arkilla, please come closer," Ren called, seated in an alcove beside her aunt as they shared a pot of tea. Beyond the arched window, the flower gardens stretched into view, wild and radiant beneath the waning breath of spring, the last days of the season in Jaigara, the capital of Alvonia. It was heavily raining but the garden still looked nerve-soothing.

"Aunt Eve, this is my friend, Arkilla. She has been protecting me ever since I entered Thegara."

Arkilla bowed her head. "It is my honor, Luna Queen."

Aunt Eve smiled, nodding in quiet approval.

"Thank you, Arkilla, for watching over my precious niece."

"Please don’t mention it," Arkilla replied, her tone crisp. "I only hope Alvonia knows how to value her this time. My queen is not some object to be sold."

As always, Arkilla’s tongue was sharper than a blade, and inwardly, Ren couldn’t help but giggle. Yet the humor faded quickly like the last glory of spring slipping into memory. She hadn’t forgotten how they’d treated her, how easily they had let Rebedina and Araben accuse her, with no shield raised in her defense. Don’t remark on the magic blocker bracelet that almost killed her.

What if they spread their venom again? What if the royal courts demanded her execution? Would the King step forward, and reveal the truth to save her?

He had professed his love, but Ren was not so foolish as to believe pretty words.

If the court demanded blood, the King would sacrifice her without hesitation to keep his crown intact.

Aunt Eve looked utterly embarrassed, but Ren made no move to apologize for her guard’s bluntness.

"Gloria, please bring the gift I prepared for my aunt," Ren said, her voice light yet steady.

Gloria stepped forward with a gentle smile, carrying a simple wooden box in her hands.

"I hope you’ll like it," Ren added as Gloria extended the box with quiet reverence.

Setting the gift box down, Ren gestured for her aunt to open it. Aunt Eve leaned forward eagerly, lifting the lid, only to tilt her head in mild confusion.

"Wow... what a beautiful... feather?"

Ren smiled warmly. "It’s not just any feather."

"Oh, darling," Aunt Eve said, wearing a kind, affectionate smile, "whatever you give me is extraordinary."

She had been showered with gifts over the years, yet somehow, this simple token stirred something deeper.

"This is Ogain’s feather," Ren explained softly. "My griffin’s. If you’re ever in danger, if you find yourself trapped, with nowhere to run, burn it. No matter where you are, Ogain will come to your aid."

Aunt Eve’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. She hadn’t realized how precious this gift truly was until now.

"Reneira, this is... too much, you’ll put your Griffin in danger," she whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Please, Aunt Eve, don’t cry," Ren said, reaching for her hand. "We both know what might happen when the King announces me as his daughter. Not everyone will welcome it. And if they can’t strike at me, they might come for you instead." Her voice lowered, edged with a sadness she could not quite hide. "I need to be sure you’re safe. You’re the only one I trust in this damned court."

Aunt Eve squeezed her hands tightly. "You have me," she vowed. "And I have allies."

Ren shook her head, a faint bitterness touching her smile.

"Aunt Eve, people will turn their backs the moment ambition whispers in their ears."

Her aunt’s face paled. Deep down, she knew her little girl wasn’t wrong.

"Reneira, you are like a true queen," Aunt Eve murmured. "The way you protect us... it’s just as your mother once did."

Ren offered a bitter smile.

"Aunt Eve, I am not like my mother. I will kill if I have no other choice."

A heavy silence settled between them, thick and unspoken. After a moment, Aunt Eve shifted her gaze to Gloria.

"You have a beautiful name, daughter," she said warmly. "How long have you lived in Thegara?"

"I appreciate the compliment, my lady," Gloria replied, dipping her head. "I’ve lived there for ten years now."

Aunt Eve narrowed her eyes slightly, studying her. "That is good that humans can live there. Rumors are stupid. And you remind me of someone I once knew, sweetheart."

Gloria flushed, her cheeks pink with nervousness. She knew the people Aunt Eve remembered were not ordinary; they were royals, nobles, figures etched into the court’s bloody history.

"May I ask who she was?" Gloria asked, her voice eager but respectful.

"Oh, she is no longer with us," Aunt Eve said softly, a fleeting shadow crossing her face. She reached for the dish of pastries, offering it to Arkilla and Gloria with a graceful hand.

They accepted without reluctance.

Ren pressed on, her voice laced with concern.

"Aunt Eve, are you certain Rebedina isn’t behind the smuggling operations? She’s desperate to make Dankin the King of Alvonia. Sometimes... it terrifies me to think she might even try to kill Sunkiath."

Aunt Eve’s features tightened, her worry unmistakable. She had thought about it, or more truthfully, she had felt it in her bones.

Wordlessly, she placed the lid back on the wooden gift box and slipped it into the hidden pocket inside her long sleeve, as if shielding it from unseen eyes.

"They’re on their way to Jaigara," Aunt Eve said, her voice sharpening with resolve. "This is the perfect time to send a bird to my spy. She can check the docks at Sokalia. If illegal cargo is moving to unknown destinations, it can only mean one thing, something is brewing."

Ren nodded grimly. She couldn’t have agreed more.

The air itself seemed tainted with the scent of treachery. She didn’t need hard evidence, sometimes, instincts screamed louder than facts. And right now, every fiber of her being whispered of rebellion. Eyes watched them carefully and ears sharpened to listen.

After the exhausting conversation about traitors and rebellion, Aunt Eve suddenly shifted the mood with a heart-melting question.

"Tell me, love," she said gently, "do you love your husband?"

Ren blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t planned to confide in anyone about such things — certainly not today — and she hadn’t expected her aunt to ask so openly.

"I do," she admitted softly. "He’s been treating me so well."

It was the truth, and no amount of turmoil could erase that simple, constant fact. She loved him more than her own life.

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