The Cursed Prince's Strange Bride

At this point, it was safe to say that Sir Evan was frustrated beyond explanation as he looked at their large chamber and found it empty.

His wife was nowhere in sight. In fact, he hadn't seen her in hours. Williams was also not in bed, but at least he had been nice enough to leave a note that he was going to take a stroll. He didn't want to talk about Susan since that was her usual pattern.

He used his hands to massage his temples before he sat down on the bed. Maybe he had made a mistake getting married? Because he had a feeling that they were going to be the death of him.

Meanwhile, the said Susan had been busy drawing lines as she tried to make sense of everything.

The more deeply she thought, the more she had a bad feeling about everything.

Tyra and Damian were in a secret relationship. That was what they had told her. Or rather, that was what Damian had told her. Damian had also been the one to show up when she was with Tyra, and Tyra had confessed to her about what she claimed happened that night. Had it been a coincidence? Not only that, he had been the one sent by the queen to come and arrest Princess Amber. Had the queen sent him because she believed Harold would not be able to hurt him? She shook her head, doubting that. Harold had found out directly from her, so that was ruled out.

What could have made Damian attack Tyra? Did it have to do with him being questioned today?

What was that strange potion that Tyra had hidden from her?

She scratched her head as she walked down the hallway, trying to think back to her conversation with Tyra that day to see if there was something she had missed.

She didn't want to suspect Tyra, but she could not help it at this point.

Tyra had first asked about Prince Harold when she saw Susan. Susan didn't think much of it. Others had visited Tyra's chamber before her, so she guessed Tyra must have heard it from them.

She remembered that she had asked Tyra about the maid, and Tyra had claimed she had never met her privately before that night.

Then she had asked her if she remembered what happened that night, but Tyra insisted she doesn't.

However, when she continued to probe, Tyra had burst into tears, and in her exact words, she said, "Did you expect me to tell them the truth and make them execute her?"

When Susan inquired about what she was talking about, Tyra responded, "What would happen to Prince Harold if I told them the truth? She is his bride! He won't be happy about it, and he is going to hate me!"

Tyra had raised her voice at that point, making Susan conscious as she looked at the door in alarm. She had even asked Tyra to keep her voice down, fearing someone would hear them, but Tyra didn't comply until Damian, another guard, and the royal physician entered the room.

Had that been a coincidence? She wondered as she remembered Damian's reaction, claiming that justice needed to be served.

She shook her head. She couldn't just conclude that Tyra had done that on purpose. Tyra didn't have any reason to hurt Princess Amber. She didn't have any reason to help anyone hurt Princess Amber either—

She suddenly paused when she remembered something she had missed. Tyra hadn't been curious about the reason why Princess Amber could not remember anything, yet she had also claimed to not remember anything at first.

She also remembered the conversation she had had with Tyra when she was trying to confirm if Tyra had eaten the same biscuit.

"Did she give you any biscuits?" She remembered asking Tyra.

"Biscuits? W-What... biscuits?" Tyra asked, looking genuinely curious and confused.

"Think about it carefully. If she gave you anything that you ate or drank. It's going to help us with a lead if you, Princess Amber, and Lance ate the same thing."

"Lance? What does he have to do with this?" Tyra asked, still confused.

'Lance? What does he have to do with this?' That sentence echoed in her head over and over again.

Why had Tyra only asked about Lance?

As she pondered it, she suddenly snapped back to her senses when someone ran past the hallway ahead, almost bumping into a maid.

Susan realized it was Paulina, who seemed so fast, as though she were riding the wind. Paulina profusely apologized to the maid and continued running. Susan watched in concern before hurrying to catch up with her to know what was wrong, but the girl was definitely a good runner because she had disappeared.

Susan stood there and looked back in the direction she had run, realizing that was where the painting room was located.

Meanwhile, in the Royal Garden that evening, their mother was busy giving Harold a bad vibe.

Okay... when he had that conversation with her the other day and said all those cringeworthy things, he had definitely not meant them. So he didn't understand why she was sitting across from him now, offering him a plate of freshly made bread she had "baked for him," while giving him a warm smile that made him feel uneasy.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

"Go on, Williams and Susan enjoy it. My Lord Husband also loves it. I'm sure you'll love it."

Nah. He won't!

He doesn't eat what people "made specially for him," or maybe because no one had actually made any special dish for him before except the usual general meals. Even the one Alicia had made hadn't been made with only him in mind, but he wouldn't blame her. He hadn't reacted well when she asked him to help her chop vegetables in the kitchen since he was a warrior and probably good with knives.

He just continued to look at the plate strangely until he looked at her face, noting how the excitement in her face was slowly disappearing and turning to one of disappointment.

It made him feel a little... bad? But he could not help but ask a question that flustered her.

"Did you poison it?"

"Why would I do that?!" She asked in disbelief, looking offended.

"Then why are you randomly making me something to eat? Don't you also find that weird?"

Her disbelief grew. "How can you think of all that just because I made you something to eat? Have you never been baked for before?" She asked in an offended tone before she realized her question was insensitive, and she quickly gave him an apologetic look, but he seemed not to be offended by it because he even nodded at her question and folded his hands across his chest.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that—"

"I thought you had news for me about the potion; that's why you asked me to meet you here." He said, interrupting her.

"You will receive news tomorrow. But for tonight, I wanted to give you this since I already promised to treat you better than I always had." She said before adding, "Here, take this."

She pulled out a beautifully knitted scarf from the basket beside her and handed it to him, saying, "I stayed up all night to make it for you. I've always loved knitting, but I don't get to do it as much as I'd like."

Okay... now he was really wary.

When he just continued to stare at it without taking it, she sighed in frustration and stood up, walking towards him.

To his surprise, she wrapped it around his neck, adjusting it tenderly and making Harold uncomfortable as he tried to withdraw from her, but she didn't let him. When she was satisfied that it looked okay, she smiled at him and returned to her seat.

Harold looked at the scarf around his neck in confusion. He wasn't used to this. His default action was to pull it off, but he tried his best to keep his hands by his side.

The scarf was a deep shade of blue, with subtle patterns of white and grey woven throughout. It was long enough to wrap around his neck twice, and it felt incredibly warm and cozy against his skin.

Had she really made this for him? Why?

"I know I haven't been the best aunt to you," she said, pouring him a cup of hot tea, "but I want you to know that I will make it up to you."

Harold just stared at her and slowly reached for the tea she had poured him. He raised it and took a sip.

When she beamed, he paused and looked at her suspiciously, making her laugh.

"I really didn't poison it." She swore, grinning as she poured one for herself too and drank it.

Harold took another sip of the tea, savouring the rich, fragrant flavour. Hesitantly, he also picked up the bread and took a small bite. Since she was so persistent, he didn't want to outright deny her.

"Your eyes tell me you like it." She teased, smiling happily.

"It's normal." He said this casually and bit into the bread again.