Witch's Daughter And The Devil's Son Chapter 3: Going Out Among The Royals

As I stepped out from the tower, the vibrant garden bursting with thick greenery and countless stunning flowers immediately caught my eye—the sole location across the whole kingdom where blossoms thrived, all because this witch's daughter tended to them.

The tower I called home, together with the garden right in front of it, had been assigned exclusively to me by King Armen's royal decree. Enclosing the garden stood tall walls crafted from gray stone, preventing any prying eyes from intruding on my solitude.

"Please, let us through. We're just following the Second Princess's commands."

"You cannot enter."

Loud voices reached my ears from beyond. Martha stopped me from advancing and headed toward the garden gate, the single entrance to this heavily guarded sanctuary.

Guards stationed by the King's orders stood watch outside at all times, shielding the area from nosy or disruptive intruders. In any case, after that terrifying event from years back, nobody dared venture inside.

A decade prior, a servant had crept in secretly, only to be discovered lifeless the following day. His head and limbs severed from the torso, the horribly mangled corpse dangled from the garden wall as a public spectacle—the most horrific display imaginable.

Nobody knew the truth of what occurred, yet they all assumed it was the witch's handiwork—and that witch was supposedly me.

Martha's voice carried to me as she addressed someone, "What's happening here?"

"These maids belong to the Second Princess, and they seek flowers from the garden," one guard explained.

"I must consult the Princess first," Martha replied before heading back inside.

Having overheard everything, I gave Martha a slight nod, signaling my approval for them to come in.

With permission granted, two young maids passed through the gate, though fear and dread clearly flickered in their gazes. They were obviously terrified of me yet forced to obey despite their reluctance. Defying the Second Princess's orders would mean certain death for them.

"Third Princess."

Spotting me ahead, the maids quickly bowed low, fixing their eyes on the floor while their bodies trembled like I might strike them down on the spot.

"Hurry up," Martha ordered them in a frosty tone.

The maids rushed to the array of fully bloomed flowers. Their eyes lit up at the sight, as such vivid blooms were a rare wonder in this forsaken realm. Across the Kingdom of Abetha, my garden alone boasted such flourishing flowers.

They gathered handfuls of roses, daisies, and lilies. I could tell they longed to pluck every last bloom if possible.

"We should go now, my lady," Martha urged, and I nodded. No reason existed for me to linger while they completed their task.

As we approached the gate, Martha whispered softly, "Those flowers won't last with them."

I let out a sigh. "If only they could control their nasty tongues."

At last, we passed through the gate, leaving behind the tower's boundaries and the lands marked under my control. The two guards outside bowed deeply but avoided meeting my eyes until I had moved a safe distance away.

We traversed a twisting stone path flanked by neatly trimmed bushes, entering the lengthy corridor that snaked toward the palace's central structure reserved solely for the royal family.

'Royals? Naturally, they don't count me among them,' I mused inwardly.

Months had elapsed since my last stroll down this corridor, and nothing had changed. Guards clad in blue-black attire, swords at their sides, posted at both ends of the hallway.

Along the walls stood grand porcelain vases brought from eastern realms, while elegant red banners draped from the ceiling amid towering pillars, lending the opulent space a celebratory vibe.

Before long, I arrived at my goal, facing a massive set of doors. Inside lay the majestic hall where the House of Ilven, Abetha's royal lineage, would conduct the pre-engagement ritual for its Second Princess.

The doors swung open amid an announcement, "Her Highness, Seren Ilven, the Third Princess of Abetha, has arrived."

The air in the room shifted instantly. Like the worst possible tidings had dropped, silence gripped the vast hall packed with nobles and peers, their frightened and venomous stares fixing on me the instant I crossed the threshold.

"My Lady..."

"It's fine, Martha," I assured her.

I knew Martha wanted to offer comfort, but such responses no longer fazed me—I had grown utterly accustomed to them.

Brushing off the onlookers, I proceeded along the plush carpet splitting the enormous hall in two, leading from the entrance to the thrones where Abetha's sovereigns, King Armen and Queen Niobe, presided in splendor.

No sooner had I entered the grand hall than the predictable murmurs of spite rose from the chattering throng, leaving me yearning for a way to plug my ears right then.

"The witch has arrived."

"How do they let her be here?"

"What if disaster strikes?"

"Those frightening marks. Hideous."

"And purple eyes like that. Witches alone possess such iris hues."

"Her mother was supposedly far uglier and more terrifying."

"Hush! What if she overhears and incinerates us? Remember what she did to the First Princess?"

"Keep clear of the windows. What if her witch scream shatters the glass and injures us all?"

I sighed to myself, 'These fools—maybe I should ignite something to terrify them? Or shriek just enough to crack those panes? Alas, not even pretend tears to flood the hall with rain.'

The notion flickered briefly before I dismissed it. These fools stirred no feelings in me strong enough to warrant harm. They didn't merit even the slightest effort to unleash my cursed powers.

With Martha at my back, I curtsied to the King. I resisted, yet as Martha insisted, protocol demanded it.

My gaze settled on the middle-aged ruler with brown hair to his shoulders, majestic in his royal blue cloak upon the throne.

My father, King Armen Ilven of Abetha, lord over one of the continent's richest and mightiest kingdoms.

"Greetings, Your Majesty. May Abetha thrive eternally under your rule," I intoned with proper formality.

King Armen's face revealed no joy at my presence, remaining as icy and composed as ever.

"Good to see you here, Seren," the blonde woman next to the King remarked, drawing my attention.

'This bothersome hag,' I thought, retorting without courtesy, "But I can't return the sentiment, my Queen."

Queen Niobe's smile vanished. Before she could respond, King Armen interjected, "The time has come. They'll arrive soon."

In truth, they ceased being family to me ages ago. It puzzled me—didn't they weary of repeating the same routines and words? I certainly tired of their unchanging faces each encounter.

Martha positioned herself behind me, joining the lineup of maids serving the other royals present. Rows of seats faced one another across the central aisle, with the King's throne offering oversight of all.

The chairs across from us royals sat vacant, reserved evidently for the groom's party.

The hall doors parted once more, admitting several women. The leaders, clad in royal finery, were surely nobles, trailed by maids bearing oversized trays draped under layers of silk.

These newcomers hailed from the groom's faction, standing for Griven Kingdom's second prince. Per Martha's prior intel, this union sealed a political alliance between Prince Lenard Cromwell, Griven's Second Prince, and Princess Meira Ilven, Abetha's Second Princess.

The women of the Royal House of Cromwell paid respects to the King and Queen, then took seats in the row ahead while their maids with trays lingered behind.

Though here for my half-sister the Second Princess Meira, the visitors' eyes locked onto me, staring as if I were some exotic marvel from afar.

'Seems the witch's daughter enjoys notoriety far and wide,' I figured, unbothered by the scrutiny.

Moments later, Second Princess Meira Ilven of Abetha swept into the hall, maids in tow. I held no fondness for her, yet her appearance was undeniably striking. Golden locks like her mother's framed her, paired with a pale pink gown of regal splendor and lavish jewels. Grace marked her steps, her flawlessly made-up face radiant, slim pink lips curved in a charming smile.

In her grasp bloomed a bouquet harvested from my very garden.

This sparked my thought, "With flowers available from neighboring realms on order, why pluck these?"

All eyes adored her as though no fairer beauty existed. The Queen beamed openly, her pride in such a lovely daughter unmistakable.

The Second Princess claimed the central seat prepared specially, as the groom's ladies presented their gifts from the trays—sumptuous garments and jewels aplenty.

"Forgive his tardiness, but His Highness the Second Prince arrives soon. He awaits only his elder brother, the First Prince," one lady assured Queen Niobe.

Yet their conversation halted abruptly.

"Fire! Fire!" a voice shrieked from the assembly, seizing every gaze in the hall.

From my seat, I spied the massive curtain over the far-end window engulfed in flames. Panic gripped the crowd even as maids and guards rushed to douse the blaze.

"It's the witch! She caused it!" a cry rang out, overpowering the chaos.

In an instant, every stare turned to me, brimming with unmistakable terror and blame.