Chapter 82: Secrets In The Dungeon
When she stepped inside, she was once again amazed to see the sheer size of the space. The floor was laid with white and black checker tiles, and massive floor-to-ceiling windows lined the left side of the wall facing the sea. In front of them stood a large bathtub filled with steaming hot water, while to her right was a wide sink with a gold-framed mirror.
She walked up to the mirror and noticed that the bluish-red bruise on her cheek was slowly fading.
"I didn’t know it would heal this fast," she murmured to herself. Glancing down at her wrist, she saw that the marks there were also beginning to disappear. Turning slightly, she noticed the shelves on the right side of the bathroom, which were filled with all kinds of essential oils and towels, and robes neatly organized for use.
"Seems like he really likes to take care of himself," she whispered, a soft smile graced her lips at the thought of the crown prince of Versailles having such an extensive skincare routine.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she wandered into the attached luxurious dressing chamber, where all of Ivan’s clothes were neatly arranged. His scent lingered everywhere, filling her senses and relaxing her nerves. Then the thought of her sharing a room with him flashed in her mind, making her cheeks burn. She had never spent such close company with any man before, and yet the idea of staying here with Ivan made her both nervous and strangely excited.
Her fingers brushed absentmindedly against one of his crisp, black, tailored coats when she heard a soft knock on the main room, startling her a bit. She wondered if Ivan had returned, so she left the dressing room and went to open the door.
Standing there was Arthur, holding several dress bags, and behind him stood a tall, robust man with brown hair, dressed in a black uniform adorned with a dragon sigil.
Arthur and the other man bowed respectfully and greeted her.
"Good Evening, Your Highness. My name is Arthur, and I am the butler of Darcoria Palace’s west wing." Arthur introduced himself.
The brown-haired man also bowed, "Good Evening, Your Highness. My name is Caleb, and His Highness has assigned me to guard this chamber."
Eve gave them both a small nod and replied softly, "Good Evening."
Arthur continued, "His Highness asked me to bring some fresh clothes for your use. May I place them inside?"
Eve was about to allow him in when she suddenly remembered Ivan’s warning. Choosing her words carefully, she responded, "That won’t be necessary. You can hand them to me, and I’ll take it from here."
She extended her hand, surprising both Arthur and Caleb. Arthur had, in fact, been instructed by Ivan to ask her for entry, just to test whether she would allow him inside or not, and then report it. ’Seems like the princess is smart,’ Arthur thought to himself.
He gave her a polite nod and handed over the bags, "Certainly, Your Highness."
Once Eve received the bags, he bowed again and said, "Should you need any assistance, simply pull the rope next to the bed, and I will come to your aid."
"Thank you, Arthur," Evelyn replied.
"I shall take my leave then." He bowed once more and departed after receiving the signal from her.
Her gaze then shifted to Caleb, who finally looked up at the beautiful Lumen princess standing before him and was absolutely mesmerised, to say the least.
Catching him stupefied, she asked softly, "Do you have anything else to add?"
"Ah..no, Your Highness." He blushed at his own rudeness for staring at her and quickly cleared his throat. "I will be on guard right outside the door."
"Alright, thank you," Evelyn replied gently before stepping back inside the room and closing the door behind her.
Caleb let out a sigh of relief after she stepped inside. Placing a hand over his chest, he silently chided himself for being careless. ’That was close, but what a beauty....No wonder His Highness is so protective of her, that he asked me....of all the people, to guard her. I’d better be more careful if I don’t want my head separated from my body.’
Taking his position outside the door, he continued to steady his racing heart at the memory of Evelyn’s beautiful face. He had noticed the fading bruise on her cheek, and he frowned, ’That bruise on her cheek looks like someone had struck her hard. It must be those bastards who harmed her,’ he thought, recalling how the Prince had rescued her from the Cloak Castle.
As he sank into his thoughts, he spotted two maids who were pacing closer to the chamber, but paused when they saw Caleb there. His eyes suddenly sharpened, and he demanded, "What are you two doing on this side of the palace?"
The maids were startled to see Caleb outside the door, and one of them stammered, "G-Good Evening, Lord C-Caleb. We wanted to check if the lady needed our assistance for anything."
Caleb narrowed his eyes at them. "I don’t think I heard any orders from His Highness to assign any maids to the lady." In one swift motion, he drew out his sword and pointed it at them. His voice hardened as he interrogated them, "Spit it out, what’s your true purpose here?"
The maid’s eyes widened in terror as they trembled under the blade. They dropped to their knees and started pleading, "Pl-please f-forgive us, Lord Caleb! We were only curious....curious to have a look at the lady staying with His Highness."
"W-we truly meant no harm! P-please forgive us!" the other cried.
Caleb’s voice became colder, "Do you know the punishment for snooping around and lying to an official? Execution." His words cut like steel. "Your fate will be decided by His Highness when he returns. Guards!"
Within seconds, the guards appeared and seized the two maids, who continued to beg desperately as they were dragged away. Caleb sheathed his sword with a swift motion and resumed his post, more vigilant than before.
Back inside the room, Evelyn was enjoying a relaxing bath, blissfully unaware of the ruckus that had just taken place outside.
Meanwhile, in Dracoria Palace dungeon, agonizing screams echoed through the dark, dingy cells. Blood splattered across the dark stone walls and floors of one of the most secure cells, guarded at every corner by soldiers who remained unaffected by the gore unfolding within.
If anyone saw Ivan at that moment, they would probably pass out from the sheer force of the deadly aura exuded by him. And if Evelyn were to see him now, she would hardly believe this was the same man who had knelt before her to tend to her wounds not too long ago.
His molten red eyes glowed a brilliant, menacing red as he gripped a handful of grey hair in his gloved hand. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he watched with a chilling detachment as the man before him wept in pain, every finger on both hands and feet broken beyond recognition.
Though he cried out in pain, Lester remained tight-lipped. Ivan leaned closer and spoke in a chilling whisper, "You will talk..."
Marquess Lester Viremont was one of the nobles captured from the Cloak Castle after Ivan and his knights had rescued Eve. He pulled off the glove from his right hand and pressed two fingers against Lester’s forehead. In an instant, Ivan’s eyes changed colour from red to burning orange, and thin vapours began to rise from Lester’s body. His pale skin flushed crimson as his body started to convulse violently. A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air as he felt the horrifying sensation of his very blood beginning to boil away inside him, searing through every vein.
The onlookers froze, their eyes wide in terror as they realised what Ivan was doing....burning Lester’s blood inside his body. A collective shiver ran down their spines at the thought that he could do something like that. They understood, in that moment, why Ivan was the most feared man on the continent. With nothing more than the lift of his finger, he could annihilate anyone.
While they were still reeling from what they were witnessing, Ivan pressed his fingers harder against Lester’s head and spoke in a merciless tone, "A little longer and your body will explode, Lester. So I’ll ask you one last time, will you speak?"
Lester, who was writhing in intense agony, couldn’t form a word, so he tapped his hand weakly against Ivan’s in a gesture of submission. And at once, Ivan removed his fingers from his forehead but kept a firm grip on his hair.
Lester heaved for air, his skin scorched and marred with burn marks. Before he could delay any further, Ivan grew impatient, raised his fingers over the man’s forehead and hissed, "Tell me who do you serve? Who sent you to her? Answer or be ready to explode."
When Ivan’s fingers hovered threateningly close, Lester’s eyes widened in horror. "P-Please! I’ll t-t-tell you everything!"
"Speak!" Ivan’s voice cut through, not wanting to listen to the meaningless chatter.
"I-I don’t know the name or the face of the person," Lester stammered, "but everyone addresses the person as...Master."
Ivan’s eyes narrowed, "If you have never seen this person, nor know his name, why follow him so blindly?"
He pressed his finger to Lester’s forehead again, and the man’s shriek filled the dungeon. Ivan stopped after a few seconds and demanded, "Explain!"
