The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 40: Call me Master

Chapter 40: Call me Master

Ren bobbed her head. They probably would think she had a secret lover if this necklace was so valuable.

"My uncle. You know, he loved me so much when I was a kid, but when you grow up, people change." Sorrow filled her eyes. In all those years she had been away from him, she had sent many letters and never received a response. This was the moment when the phrase became so heart-wrenching: Out of sight, out of mind. How simple, like a brush of wind that passed and never returned. But memories—they lived, able to kill or save, didn’t they? If memories could be buried she would have willingly done that.

Agara decided to change the subject. "So, I heard you have been investigating me."

Ren blushed, utterly ashamed. This was how she looked while searching for his background. She was at a loss for words and yielded to admit, "Ah, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. But to be honest, I was so startled after realizing that you are the third son of King Xakiel and that my husband is your cousin. But I’d heard he was the son of the Fae King, not his nephew."

Agara shook his head, looking disappointed. "Humans make words. They love rumors and turn us into crawling monsters in their bedchambers or demons, while they have no idea how scary demons truly are. And we have a life to live and don’t bother to come and scare you. However, that would be fun."

That wasn’t exactly what Ren wanted to know. Like her husband, this man was good at dodging questions. Thus, she chose to be more direct.

"So who is his father?"

"My father’s brother. That’s easy to guess."

Gods screamed in her head!

She knew that and had guessed it right away after reading the family line. But what had happened? There was no name, literally nothing. Why had his brother started a war and created an army of the dead to take over the world? What was going on within the immortal families? And why was her uncle involved? Why was that man entangled in everything she came across at all? If questions could kill, well, her mind was about to screw her over and be the end of her.

Curiosity indeed kills a cat!

"His father has many names, but let’s put this subject aside as we have more important matters to attend to. I believe from now on, you must call me Master Agara."

Ren felt an ease in her chest that only made the tears bubble in her eyes, welling up and washing her cheeks. "Thank... you for accepting me!" She was thrilled, and no words could describe how she felt. It wasn’t about becoming powerful—it was about being able to help and protect people instead of hurting them.

"Oh, don’t cry, princess. I don’t like to see you crying. It reminds me of someone I loved very much. Those who cry when they are happy make me sad."

"Why?" She scrunched her nose.

"Because they are the ones who have suffered more than anybody else in their life."

He extended his arm to wipe her tears but hesitated, retreating, and then passing her a white silk handkerchief.

"Please, have your seat and eat with me."

Ren, after wiping her tears away, accepted the invitation. The food tasted even more delicious, and she ate with bottomless relish and zeal. After that, she brought up the topic with joy. "Can you help me control all of the shades?"

He nodded. "I found an ancient book in Rezgaith’s library. Yet, I must say, you are the first in thousands of years to hold three shades of magic."

Ren arched a brow. "Does that mean there was another person like me?"

"There was only one person who could control all seven shades of magic."

Ren picked up her mug of water and took a sip. Well, that was unexpected. "What happened to that person?"

Agara paused. "I don’t know." His voice was firm and unwavering. Even if he was lying, Ren would never know. His mysterious, enigmatic demeanor haunted her, nibbling at her nerves. However, she was sure the clouds of secrecy would eventually part, revealing the truth—no matter how hurtful it might be.

"So, when do we start?"

"I heard your husband wants me to take part in a mission in which the mastermind behind it is you." He grinned.

He was staring at her knuckles and couldn’t hold back his frown. Indicating her hands, he asked, "Did you punch a stone?"

Ren glanced at her bruised knuckles. "No, I was training and entirely forgot to apply ointment."

He shook his head. "You shouldn’t be careless. Your hands are important, your health is important, princess. If you are ever sick as a healer, you won’t be able to heal yourself. And if, in that state, you try to save others, you’ll burn, you’ll die. Never get hurt."

His tone was filled with concern, and somehow, it scared Ren. She couldn’t heal herself. That wasn’t good. He brought his palm over her knuckles, and a comforting white light covered them. It tickled a bit but didn’t hurt at all. When he removed his hand, the marks and scratches were gone.

"Now, please allow me to accompany you to your chambers."

She accepted the offer, and as they walked through the corridor, a troop of guards hurried past. Ren turned to Arkilla, who joined them from the other end of the hallway.

"What’s wrong?"

"A village is burning. They say it was deliberate! Since His Grace isn’t here, they are going to check."

Ren placed her palm over her mouth, staring at Arkilla incredulously. "Why would someone set a village on fire?"

"We don’t know yet."

"I’ll go to see if they need a healer," Agara suggested without hesitation before bidding them goodbye.

"He is just weird!" Arkilla purred.

"Don’t say that! He is my master now. Have you seen him here before?" Ren asked as they proceeded.

Arkilla nodded. "Yes, he comes every spring to pay a visit to His Highness. At first, we thought he was just an old friend, but it turned out he is a Fae prince, his cousin."

Ren chuckled. "I’m more behind than I thought. Until today, I used to think my husband was the Fae King’s son."

Arkilla’s mouth fell open. "Why? Don’t humans have historians?"

Ren shrugged. "They write what the kings allow them to."

Arkilla just blinked in amazement. That was another level of control. Humans, the genius, greedy pricks, wouldn’t leave a truthful history for the next generations.

"I heard that!"

"Oh, sorry!"

"Do you have historians?" Ren asked.

Arkilla nodded. "Of course we do. Did you see that white tower on the hill after crossing the market?"

"Yes!"

"If you like strange, heavy books, you can find them there. Our historians record everything. One of them was looking for a job, I heard from maidens."

Ren chuckled inwardly. A wicked light crossed her eyes. Is that so?

Changing the subject so as not to attract too much attention or show eagerness, she said, "I’m worried about the village. Is it possible to visit?"

"Of course not. Let them put out the fire first. We will be informed."

Her tone was tight, but fear glinted in her eyes. His Highness strongly warned me not to let you wander out of the castle when he is not around.

She linked the thought through their minds. It seemed like a serious matter. Was Elaika planning to hurt her?

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