All Chapters of Betrothed to the devil himself : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The night was heavy with silence. Outside, rain whispered through the forest leaves, dripping softly onto the roof of Mira’s little wooden hut. The air smelled of damp earth and wood smoke, and somewhere in the distance, an owl cried, echoing through the darkness. Inside, the only light came from a single flickering candle that burned beside the bed where Lyra lay motionless. Her small body was covered in a thin blanket, her face pale, her lips slightly parted as she struggled to breathe. Mira sat beside her, her hands trembling as she dabbed the sweat from Lyra’s forehead. Her heart had not stopped racing since the moment the girl collapsed earlier that evening. One moment Lyra had been laughing, washing dishes by the creek and humming a tune she had made up herself; the next, she had dropped to her knees, clutching her chest and gasping for air — her eyes glowing faintly gold as if a hidden fire had been awakened within her. “Please, my child…” Mira whispered now, her old eyes

Heavy and watchful, the moon was full that night, casting a pale light over the lonely palace. Its glow spilled through the high glass windows of the royal chamber, where King Zerach sat alone, his heart drowning in shadows. The table before him was littered with half-empty cups and bottles. The sharp scent of royal wine hung like a ghost, mixing with the faint fragrance of sandalwood Daphne used to love. He lifted another cup to his lips, his hands trembling as the liquid burned down his throat. His eyes were red, not from drink alone, but from grief — grief that had never healed. “My Daphne…” he whispered, his voice thick with longing. “You left me in a world that has forgotten how to breathe.” He stared at her portrait — the one he had ordered painted after her death. She smiled down at him with that same calm grace that once steadied his heart. But tonight, the smile only deepened his agony. “Why did you leave me with this curse?” he murmured, his words slurring slightly.

Two moons had passed since that fateful night — the night when guilt was sown in the heart of a king, and silence became the cruelest chain binding them both. The palace of Arvane stood still under the silver gaze of dawn, its once-proud towers now draped in quiet melancholy. Servants walked lightly through the marble halls, afraid of the king’s mood. Since the death of Queen Daphne eleven years ago, they had seen him grieve — but never like this. Now, even his grief seemed poisoned by something darker. King Zerach had changed. He no longer attended the royal gardens where Daphne’s favorite lilies bloomed, nor did he join the people in festivals or prayers. The throne room — once filled with laughter and light — had become a chamber of shadows. Every evening, he would sit alone with a cup of untouched wine, eyes distant, haunted. And though no one spoke it aloud, all who served him knew: he was running from a ghost. Freda’s Burden In a quiet corner of the palace, Freda stood

The entire hall erupted in disbelief. Councilors stared, mouths agape. The noble maidens froze in shock. Even Lucien’s eyes widened in confusion. “Her?” Lord Galen finally managed. “My king… she’s—she’s a servant!” “She is,” Zerach said firmly. “But she has shown me more loyalty, compassion, and courage than anyone in this hall.” Freda shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. “My king, please… you don’t have to—” “I do,” Zerach said, his voice breaking. “For too long, I have lived in the shadows of the past. The gods have spoken through my queen. Daphne herself guided my heart tonight.” He looked into Freda’s tearful eyes and whispered so only she could hear: “I will not let you bear your pain alone. You deserve the crown you never sought.” The hall remained in stunned silence. Then Lord Galen bowed deeply, trembling. “The king has spoken. So let it be written.” The council chamber was empty now. The echoes of gasps and murmurs had faded into the thick, golden silence of n

The night was still, painted in silver by the full moon that floated above the palace towers. The city of Sungai slept in rare peace, unaware that inside the royal chambers, fate was once again stirring. Freda’s cry broke the silence. It began as a low moan, but soon turned into a scream that echoed through the marble corridors. Servants rushed like shadows, carrying bowls of warm water, white linens, and burning lamps that cast trembling gold light upon the walls. “Call the king!” Mira shouted. “Now!” Zerach was in the council hall, going through scrolls of treaties and battle reports when the guard burst in, breathless. “My king—Her Majesty—she’s in labor!” The parchment slipped from Zerach’s hands. For a heartbeat, the world went silent around him. Then, with the strength of fear itself, he rose from his seat and ran. His footsteps thundered through the corridors as his memories raced with him — the last time he had heard screams like these was eleven years ago, when Daphne h