The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 164: Cruel sister.

Chapter 164: Cruel sister.

This evening promised to be anything but dull. Ren was determined to have a little fun, and more importantly, to lift Gloria from the shadows of her sadness.

Kai had dispatched Beta Coran to Thegara. Originally, he was meant to escort the spy girl back to Vine Castle. But Kai had other plans. He ordered Coran to stay longer, to observe the girl in silence, in shadows... and to get close to her, dangerously close.

As Ren and her husband exchanged pleasantries with Lord Alekin, the air fractured with tension when his wife, Reveka Rebedina, stepped between them, her expression laced with a toxic blend of contempt and fear.

"So, my son-in-law has come to aid us. I trust the King knows how loyal Zillgaira remains to His Majesty, letting our precious daughter marry a beast." She quipped, her voice painted in venomous silk.

Ren’s feigned smile faltered, her gaze sharpening like the blade strapped to her husband’s waist. What did she dare say?

"Mistress Reveka Rebedina Kalia-Keleemont," Ren said coldly, deliberately drawing out every syllable of the name the woman loathed. "What relation does my husband bear to Zillgaira or you? Do enlighten us, if you know."

It was not a greeting. It was a slap. She had called her by her full name, curse and all, and the title Mistress, a reminder that no matter how many jewels she wore or titles she stole, she had once been nothing more than the woman who shattered home and crawled into another’s bed.

Did she deserve to be shamed? Yes. She had the audacity to insult Kaisun before countless watching eyes. Ren knew her husband could end Rebedina in her own bed, suffocating her with threads of shadow if he so wished. But he didn’t waste that kind of energy on clowns.

Rebedina’s face flushed crimson. She clenched her jaw to restrain the fury rising behind her eyes. The only thing holding her tongue was the silent threat of the shifters surrounding them.

Ren let a smirk curl her lips, wicked, unbothered, and deliciously cold.

"Oh, sister! Did I hear that right?" Araben’s voice rang out, sickly sweet and loud enough for everyone to hear. "What did you just call our dear mother?"

Ren’s gaze slid lazily to Araben, unimpressed. As always, the girl was draped in something gaudy, a heavy, jewel-encrusted gown entirely unfit for the long journey from Zillgaira to Jaigara. But Araben never traveled to blend in. She traveled to be seen. Every rustle of her dress screamed for attention. She loved parading her title, inflating her influence wherever her heels touched the ground as if theatrics could mask the hollowness behind them.

Maiden Lora, bright-eyed and eager to serve, rushed to keep the hem of Araben’s gown from dragging. She glanced toward Reneira with a hopeful smile, perhaps seeking approval or reassurance that would save her.

But Araben seized the moment like a predator snapping at a hand that dared reach near her leash.

"Watch it!" she barked. "If I fall, I’ll have your hands broken."

Lora flinched, the color draining from her face. She didn’t doubt the threat. Everyone knew Araben was capable of cruelty cloaked in velvet, she wouldn’t hesitate to find the most excruciating way to make good on her promise.

"My apologies, Princess," Lora whispered, her voice trembling with visible terror.

Gloria’s features had darkened. The usual warmth in her face– the quiet sunshine she wore like second skin– was now eclipsed by cold irritation. From the moment they entered, her eyes had locked onto her siblings. Dankin, her younger brother, strutted around like a peacock drunk on praise, preening in self-importance. And her sister...

There were no words vile enough to describe her sister.

What unsettled her more than anything was the mirror of resemblance between them, the same blazing red hair, the same proud posture. The only true difference was the eyes. Araben’s were a piercing green, her mother’s eyes. That name alone felt like thorns twisting in Gloria’s ears.

She could still remember what her Queen, her Luna, had once confided through clenched teeth and sleepless nightmares. That woman– Gloria’s own stepmother– had locked Ren in the dungeons and left her to starve. No one else knew, only Gloria. She had begged to know after hearing her Queen cry in her sleep, and Luna Queen had told her, but only after extracting a promise of silence.

Cruel, Gloria thought. Monstrous. If fate hadn’t whisked her away to live in secret, she could’ve easily ended up in her Queen’s place, shackled and forgotten or dead.

Araben dared to speak. "Brother-in-law, do you see how brutal your wife is?" she said, her voice steeped in false innocence. "I’m sure you’re having a hard time."

Kai lifted a brow, his voice calm but edged with cool dismissal. "I don’t think using someone’s official title qualifies as brutality. My wife," he added, lacing his fingers through Ren’s, "is sweeter than honey."

He bent and pressed a kiss to her head, deliberate, possessive, and finally to shut her mouth.

Lord Alekin, ever the doormat cloaked in noble silk, released a tired sigh and gestured for his son-in-law to leave the women behind and join him. Dankin, glaring daggers at Ren, trailed after his father, visibly sulking. The poor boy was offended—so offended—that someone had dared insult his precious mother. After all, wasn’t he the esteemed male heir to the Ruby Throne?

Ren chuckled inwardly.

Kai gave Ren a slight nod and stepped away, exactly as they’d rehearsed. What they didn’t anticipate was Lord Alekin’s complete failure to recognize Gloria. He hadn’t even blinked in her direction. He didn’t know his daughter stood before him, alive and watching.

How strange, Ren thought. How pitiful.

The moment the men were far enough, Araben lunged forward and seized Ren’s arm, her claws disguised as nails digging into flesh.

Arkilla stiffened behind her, eyes flashing with fury. One more second and she would’ve broken Araben’s wrist without blinking, but Ren gave her a silent signal, a subtle shake of her head.

Hold.

Arkilla froze, unmoving, but her rage radiated like wildfire. She wanted to give this bitch the taste of having multiple broken bones, badly wanted it.

Araben dug her nails deeper into Ren’s skin, her breath warm and venomous against her ear. "Listen, sister," she hissed, voice thick with malice, "this banquet is going to be your worst nightmare. So don’t mess with me... Witch."

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