Previously on The Villianess story: A 100 ways to kill your husband...
Abrielle, who was once Hazel, wakes up in the body of the villainess from her novel. As she struggles to accept her new reality and the impending wedding to Prince Cedric, she realizes her fateful marriage date is approaching. Desperate to escape her prophesied demise, Abrielle attempts a daring escape from her room, only to fall from the window and be caught by a mysterious stranger with captivating golden eyes.
With a mask obscuring his features and a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, his identity was completely concealed. "What were you doing dangling from a tree?" his deep voice inquired, startling her out of her daze. She blinked, mentally scolding herself for being so foolish as to be distracted by a stranger when she should have been fleeing. "It's none of your concern. Thank you for the rescue; I am eternally grateful," she stated, subtly encouraging him to set her down. Though his expression remained hidden, Abrielle sensed his judgment. "Where are you running off to?" he inquired instead. "I repeat, it has nothing to do with you. Thank you for saving me, but I must leave now," she responded, pressing her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away. He remained unmoved, like a solid block. After a moment of frantic kicking, he reluctantly released her. 'What a strange fellow?' Abrielle scoffed inwardly, adjusting her coat. She landed gracefully on her feet, her gaze drifting upwards to him where she noticed his imposing height. 'How can someone be so tall?' she mused. "The lady is missing," a voice shouted from a distance, followed by the rapid sound of approaching footsteps. Acting on instinct, Abrielle leaped, wrapping her arms around his neck. Before he could react, she pulled down the scarf concealing his mouth and pressed her lips against his. He froze instantly, giving her the perfect opportunity. She quickly pulled the towering stranger to act as a living shield, blocking her from the pursuing guards while making it appear as though they were engaged in a passionate embrace. The guards, arriving at their location, noticed the scene. In this era, public displays of affection were frowned upon, so they averted their eyes and hurried past, unwilling to intrude. Once they were out of sight, she broke the brief kiss. "They're gone," she announced, preparing to step down, as she was still suspended from his neck. The stranger, seemingly recovered from the shock of being kissed by a stranger, did something Abrielle had not anticipated. He encircled her waist with his arms, supporting her as he captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Abrielle was so taken aback that she didn't notice when her lips parted, allowing him to deepen the exploration. His lips felt searingly hot, and she melted beneath his touch. However, the memory of her precarious situation resurfaced; she shouldn't be kissing a stranger but escaping Dacronia to a land where she could survive the book's plot. She kicked his leg and then exerted all her strength to push him away. The stranger, caught off guard, stumbled back a few steps. "How dare you kiss me? Do you have any idea who I am?" she demanded, wiping her moist lips furiously. A smirk played on his lips, though he quickly concealed it with his scarf, preventing her from getting a clear look at his face. Judging by his attire, he was likely from a noble background, perhaps an insignificant extra from the story she couldn't recall. "That is my recompense for you assaulting me, holy lady Abrielle," he retorted, leaving her speechless. He knew her identity. Abrielle clenched her fists. "You are the one who took advantage of the daughter of the Holy Lord and the Duchess of Vesper," she accused. Abrielle emphasized her high standing, implying that a mere minor noble had no right to touch her without consent. Vesper was equivalent to the Nightshade Duchy. The stranger appeared amused by her outburst, offering a slight bow. "Forgive my impertinence, little Duchess Abrielle. Had I known it was her holiness dangling from the tree, I would have alerted the guards sooner," he replied, his voice tinged with mockery. Nevertheless, Abrielle had no time to spare on a nobody. She huffed and walked past him, but her arms were suddenly seized from behind. "What do you want from me?" she snapped, already feeling violated. What more could he possibly desire? "You won't get far on foot. The stables are in the opposite direction," he suggested. Abrielle was surprised by his observation but concealed her astonishment. "What makes you believe I intend to flee?" she scoffed, though she secretly acknowledged he was correct; taking a horse would indeed facilitate her escape. "You wouldn't have climbed out of your room through a window," he stated matter-of-factly. Abrielle was rendered speechless. She yanked her hand free from his grasp and hurried towards the stables. The stranger followed leisurely, easily matching her pace with his long strides. Her good fortune seemed to hold, as the stables were deserted. She surmised the entire estate was in an uproar searching for her.
A specific horse captured her attention, letting out a neigh and beginning to move, signaling its excitement at seeing her. "Thunder," Abrielle called out with glee to the horse, which she recalled as her noble mount.
The constraint of time prevented her from properly saddling the horse; fortunately, Thunder still had his reins. She unlatched the gate to his stall, and the white stallion emerged.
"Since you've been shadowing me, at least assist me in mounting this horse." She directed her words towards the bothersome stranger who had been trailing her and was now leaning against the stable entrance. "And why should I?" he inquired, amusement coloring his tone.
"Because it is an honor to aid a noble lady such as myself, and furthermore, you are a gentleman." She offered a rather self-righteous, albeit flimsy, justification. Though she couldn't discern his expression, his eyes clearly indicated he found the situation highly amusing.
She had anticipated he might ignore her plea, but to her profound astonishment, he approached Abrielle and Thunder. "You understand the severe repercussions if you are apprehended attempting to flee a royal marriage," he reminded her. As if she paid any mind; she intended to be far away long before any punishment could befall her.
"That's assuming I am caught. So, are you assisting me or not?" She raised an eyebrow, awaiting his response. Instead of a verbal reply, he grasped her waist and lifted her onto Thunder.
After ensuring she was seated securely, he released her. Abrielle was perplexed by his actions. She had expected him, at the very least, to dissuade her from fleeing, given the known consequences. Yet, this stranger was actively aiding her escape. While she didn't know his identity, she felt a sense of gratitude.
Grasping the reins, she prepared to gallop away, but her curiosity held her back. "Why are you helping me?"
He was gently stroking Thunder, his gaze fixed on the horse. "As you stated, I am a gentleman, and I believe everyone should have the freedom to make their own choices, even if they abruptly decide to renounce a marriage they were previously infatuated with, for reasons unknown." he responded.
His words carried a peculiar weight, yet Abrielle grasped their meaning. After all, she was widely known to have been utterly smitten with Prince Cedric ever since he fortuitously rescued her when bandits attacked her carriage.
That incident marked the beginning of Abrielle's fervent, albeit unrequited, adoration. However, she was no longer the naive Abrielle who would cling to a man who never loved her and ultimately caused her demise.
Abrielle urged her horse forward, causing it to bolt through the stable entrance. She offered no reply, deeming it unnecessary. By good fortune, her family's estate was situated near Dead Creek Forest, a natural boundary.
Though she had never ridden a horse before, the experience felt incredibly natural, as if she were Abrielle herself, not Hazel.
Long after she had departed the stables, an elite shadow guard materialized beside the stranger. "Shall I dispatch the other elite guards to pursue her, Your Highness?" he inquired of the stranger, who was none other than the seemingly cold-hearted First Prince of Darconia, Cedric Von Drakkar, infamously known as the devil of the battlefield.
"Notify the royal guards instead. She won't be able to travel far on that horse. The Little Duchess is making her way towards Dead Creek Forest," Cedric replied. A sudden gust of wind swept across his scarf, revealing his devastatingly handsome face, partially obscured by a mask.
He had recently concluded delicate negotiations concerning his impending marriage with Abrielle, only to stumble upon this unexpected turn of events. He had certainly not anticipated encountering his betrothed attempting to abscond from their wedding.
"But out of curiosity, why did you not stop her?" his elite guard questioned.
"It was amusing, and besides, she is free to run, but that does not guarantee her escape. Should she succeed, her family will remain indebted to me for a considerable period, so it's a win-win regardless," Cedric explained. He was genuinely entertained; his union with this peculiar lady promised to be far more interesting than he had initially imagined.
By now, she should be nearing the grasslands. He hoped the royal guards would apprehend her swiftly, as it would be a pity for someone as intriguing as her to slip away.
