Chapter 72 Where Is My Wife?
"Hmm…" Ophelia hummed when she flipped a page and saw ancient scribbles. They resembled the writings on the bed found back in the Mavez Dukedom, the one that blessed a couple for heirs.
Once again, Ophelia found herself enchanted by the illegible writing. She felt her mouth move on its own, voices and whispers coming out as she began to read the ancient tongue. She was like a woman possessed by a spirit, her lips moving on its own accord, until strange sounds came out. Then, she began to lose a grasp of reality, her eyes burning, her scalp tingling, and her palms began to glow an unnatural purple.
"What are you reading?"
Ophelia jumped at the sudden intrusion, spinning from her seats. She scrambled to hide the book behind her, but the person effortlessly picked up the pages. She concealed her hands behind her, realizing she had been caught in another trance.
The woman seemed to realize it, her sharp eyes watching over Ophelia.
"You're interested in magic?" the woman asked, raising her head to reveal a pair of thick glasses and hair pulled tightly into a bun.
Ophelia was stunned by her beauty and hazel eyes, sharp and stern. For a split second, Ophelia was bewitched by the cold elegance of the woman who tilted her head.
"How strange, I could've sworn I saw you trying to read the ancient and illegible tongue of the old gods," the woman continued, tilting her head. "N-no, I was just seeing if I c-could make out what the b-books were trying to say," Ophelia argued whilst glancing away, hoping to conceal her unnatural purple eyes, but that was impossible. "You're Duchess Mavez," she smoothly said with great curiosity, her gaze lingering on Ophelia's odd features.
"H-how did you k-know?" Ophelia asked.
"Well, it's not everyday a witch like me comes across a specimen of white hair and purple eyes," the woman mused like it was no big deal. "Talks about you have traveled far and wide ever since your presence at the Decade Tribute Ceremony."
Ophelia nervously pressed herself tighter upon the table, for the woman had called herself a witch. It was a female term for magicians, but still. Her eyes darted across the room, searching for Beetle. It just so happened the man was reading a book, or at least, pretending to. The book was upside down and his head bobbing whilst he dozed off.
"A sleep potion," the woman teased, revealing her palms where a half-emptied vial was seen. "I was testing it here. I'm surprised you didn't detect my presence near the corner of the space." "H-how long were you in h-here for?" Ophelia stammered out, glancing out the window to see the sun had long set. She came in here during the afternoon. Did that mean the woman was here the entire time?
"The name's Layla, my lady," she effortlessly said, striking her hands out. "It'd give you great comfort to know I am Reagan's pupil and bare no harm."
Ophelia's throat tightened. She glanced at Layla's outstretched palms and reluctantly shook it.
"R-Reagan?" Ophelia repeated, for she had been hearing the name quite often.
"Yes, he's the magician that practically raised your husband, Alpha Mavez," Layla explained like it was no big deal. She glanced down at the books Ophelia held in her hands. "I was permitted by Reagan to use this library as I please, for it's always well-kept and empty, since Alpha Mavez seldom frequent this palace."
"W-why not?" Ophelia curiously asked. "I-I thought he came to the empire often."
Layla shrugged without a care in the world. She rested her weight against the table, elongating her beautiful body. "Alpha Mavez never cared about the fancy things, all he needed was a place to stay, which was often at the main Helios Palace just a brisk twenty-minute walk from here," Layla said. "I suppose this is one of the first times he came to this palace after ten years. Did you know he raised hell to ensure everything here was perfect prior to your arrival?"
Ophelia's heart jumped, her face softening. He did all this for her? How come he never told her?
"W-why are you telling me these things?" Ophelia asked.
Ophelia's attention began drifting to the enormous wooden shelves of books, the ladders infused with gold resting on a wall, the large windows that panned to the ceiling but stopped upon velvet cushions for one to sit and stare out at the scenery. She loved this place the most, but wondered why Killorn never set foot in the palace.
Just exactly what happened ten years ago?
"You were studying diligently and I just finished my latest batch of sleeping potion. I needed a lab rat and your bodyguard was here. I figured to inform you of my presence, seeing as you have no awareness of danger," Layla explained whilst crossing her ankles and tilting her head at Beetle. Her lips curled. "You need a better bodyguard."
"Y-you needn't experiment on w-werewolves, i-its illegal," Ophelia whispered.
"A werewolf?" Layla asked, her eyes shimmering. "So you're telling me my sleeping potion worked on a supernatural?"
Ophelia pressed her lips together. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. With a slight sigh, she straightened up, but then paused. In the distance, she heard a familiar bellow. Immediately, all the hairs on her arms stood up. She tensed, just as Layla tilted her head.
"Where is my wife?!" a voice growled through the hallways, grabbing the throats of every strangler, until one of them could squeeze out a satisfactory answer.
"Ugh!" Beetle jolted out of his sleep, running a tired hand through his hair. With a scrunched-up expression and tightly clenched eyes, he glanced around in confusion.
"BEETLE!"
"Ah shit," Beetle sighed, shaking his head in irritation. Suddenly, he tensed, immediately, his head snapping to Layla. He felt every cell in his body violently react.
Mine.
Before Beetle could process the thought, the doors slammed open, and Killorn stood there with a dangerous glower.
"There's my wife."
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