Lahat ng Kabanata ng Betrothed to the devil himself : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Daphne didn’t sleep that night.Even after Rosa left her chamber, the air seemed to hum with danger, thick and poisonous. The sound of Rosa’s laughter echoed in her head, that wicked melody of triumph that stripped away every illusion of peace she’d clung to.Rosa had spoken her truth — cruel, fiery, and venomous — and Daphne could no longer deny it.She had come not as a daughter, not as a healer of wounds past… but as vengeance wrapped in silk.The next morning dawned gray and heavy. Rain lashed against the palace windows as if the heavens themselves grieved for what was coming. Daphne sat before her mirror, her reflection pale and hollow-eyed.She should tell Zerach.She should warn him.But how?Every time she imagined the words leaving her lips, they turned to ash.Your daughter wants to destroy us. She blames you for her mother’s death.Would he even believe her?No — Rosa had woven herself too perfectly into his heart. The dutiful daughter, the repentant soul, the gentle remind

The palace had grown quiet again—but not peaceful.Silence had a way of whispering the truth louder than words.Rosa’s laughter still echoed through the marble corridors, light and graceful, a melody that once might have soothed Daphne’s heart. Now, it chilled her. The girl walked beside the king with all the softness of a daughter—but something about her eyes had changed. They gleamed with a hidden knowing, a secret Daphne could feel but not yet name.Zerach, blinded by affection and guilt, saw none of it. He had forgiven Rosa completely, his heart moved by her tears and her apology. He wanted his family whole again—his wife, his daughter, his redemption.But Daphne’s heart would not rest.That night, as the moon bled pale light across the king’s balcony, Zerach came to her chambers. His steps were slow, uncertain. For a long while, he stood at the door, watching her.She was brushing her hair, golden strands falling in silken waves down her back, her reflection soft in the mirror’s

The nights had grown warmer, but the air inside the palace was heavy—thick with the scent of unspoken truths and the faint whisper of something waiting to unravel. Daphne often found herself on the balcony of her chambers, gazing into the dark forest where Fatima hid. Every shadow seemed to breathe secrets. Every breeze felt like a whisper calling her name. Yet when she turned, it was always him—Zerach—standing behind her, tall and watchful, a quiet storm in his eyes. “Still thinking of her?” he asked one evening, his voice rough but tender. The moonlight caught the curve of his horns, the faint glow of his war tattoos that now marked him not as a monster, but as a king softened by love. Daphne didn’t lie. “Sometimes. It’s strange how peace feels like a fragile thing. I keep waiting for the sound of it breaking.” He moved closer, his warmth swallowing the chill around her. “Then let it break,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “And I’ll build it back for you

The castle breathed in silence again. But it was not the silence of peace — it was the silence that comes after storms, heavy with things left unsaid.Daphne could still hear the echoes of the night Fatima was exposed — the shouts, the shock, the way truth tore through the palace like thunder. Fatima’s greed had destroyed everything she touched — Zerach, Rosa, herself. She was dead now, her last scream swallowed by her own hatred.But even death could not erase the poison she left behind.And Daphne saw it, every day, in Rosa’s eyes.Rosa had stopped speaking much after her mother’s death. She drifted through the marble halls like a ghost — quiet, graceful, but hollow. The laughter that once charmed the court was gone. She smiled when spoken to, but her eyes no longer glowed.Sometimes Daphne would find her sitting in the rose garden, staring at the wilted flowers, her fingers brushing the dying petals.“You should rest,” Daphne would whisper softly.Rosa would nod without looking up.

The news struck the kingdom like thunder breaking through a stormless sky.At first, there was disbelief. Then the word spread — not through messengers or proclamations, but through the trembling voices of those who heard it first-hand.The queen was with child.The rumor ignited hearts like wildfire from the marketplace to the docks, from the temples to the farthest fields. The grief that had haunted Cural since Rosa’s death began to lift. For the first time in months, laughter returned to the streets.Mothers clutched their children with renewed faith. Men embraced one another as if peace itself had been born anew. The air carried something unfamiliar — hope.By the time Queen Daphne’s carriage arrived at the city gates, the roads were already crowded. Women from every corner of the land filled the path leading to the palace, their baskets overflowing with gifts — tiny embroidered cloths, jars of milk, golden trinkets, and protection charms.When the gates finally opened, they poure