Garden Of Poison-Chapter 197: Roots of the Blackthorn

Emily stared at the marking on her chest in the mirror, which she hadn’t noticed when she got dressed earlier that morning. It bore a striking resemblance to the root-like markings that once marked the backs of her brother’s hands. But what did that have to do with her?

"Ah!" She winced in agony as a searing pain shot through her, akin to a lightning bolt striking her chest, serving as a stark reminder of the fragile state of her soul. The pain refused to relent, coursing through her body and causing her to lose her balance and collapse to the ground.

Upon hearing a faint noise coming from inside the room, Julia turned the doorknob and entered, letting out a gasp.

"Princess! Are you alright?!" Julia asked, her voice filled with alarm. She quickly bent down to help Emily raise her head, who was hunched over in pain, her face hanging low towards the floor.

"I..." Emily took a deep breath as her vision slowly returned after the blinding pain. "I—I need water. Water," she gasped.

The maid swiftly rose and made her way to the table where the water jug was placed. Pouring some into a glass, she hurriedly returned to Emily’s side with it.

Emily’s lips trembled as she gulped the water down in slow sips. Unshed tears had pooled in the corners of her eyes as a result of both the intense pain and the realisation that Nathaniel and Layla’s bond had grown stronger. She inhaled deeply, her chest heaving with each breath.

"Should I order a physician to attend to you, Princess Emily? You appear to be sweating," Julia inquired, noting the temperature inside the castle was colder than the outside. "I can go and—"

When her maid attempted to stand up, Emily reached out and grasped the young woman’s hand to stop her. She whispered, "Don’t."

She didn’t suffer from an illness that medicines could remedy. This was a condition beyond the physician’s control.

Emily felt the urge to cry, but she knew that tears wouldn’t fix anything, and she silently cursed the unfortunate luck that had befallen her. Was this what people meant when they said that the offspring inherited the parents’ fortune? This is what kismet, the inescapable destiny, was, she thought to herself. Despite her love for her father and his affection for her, he had caused harm to many people during his lifetime, and it seemed she was now bearing the consequences of his actions.

When the pain persisted and Emily could still feel the relentless tug in her heart as if it were attempting to tear apart, she composed herself and said,

"Bring me the robe, Julia."

"Princess?" Julia asked as Emily let go of her hand.

"My night robe..."

"Yes!" The maid quickly fetched the robe while Emily got to her feet. She helped the princess put on the robe, and as she tied the belt around her waist, her eyes widened in astonishment upon noticing the marking on the princess’s chest.

Emily didn’t remain in her room and instead made her way into the corridor, proceeding down a short flight of stairs before climbing another set on the opposite side. The maid, realising that the princess wasn’t in a presentable state for wandering the castle’s corridors, trailed behind her to the staircase. However, upon seeing the seriousness on the princess’s face, she decided to stop following her further.

Emily spotted Westley and questioned him, "Where is King Raylen?"

"He is in the drawing room," Westley answered in a dull tone, his expression barely changing.

"Which room is the drawing room?" Emily inquired, and the servant stared at her for a moment before responding,

"It is the second room on the left."

"Thank you," Emily murmured before swiftly departing.

In the next moment, Lauren caught sight of the princess in her robes, which struck her as peculiar, and she asked, "Where is the princess headed to?"

"To meet Master."

Lauren’s eyes widened. "Now? He’s busy with his meal at the moment!" freewebnσvel.cøm

"He said to assist the lady during her stay here," Westley replied flatly. Lauren pursed her lips and followed after the princess. However, before the head servant could intervene, the young woman had already pushed open the doors of the drawing room.

Emily’s attention was drawn to the mass of blonde hair and the slender back of a woman whom she unmistakably recognised as Gloria, who was bare from the waist up. Seated next to the woman was Raylen, who had taken a relaxed position on the corner of the couch, his lips stained with blood. The buttons on his shirt had been undone. Westley had omitted any mention of him being occupied, which was why she hadn’t expected him to have company. A flush of embarrassment tinged her cheeks at the sight, and she quickly averted her gaze.

"You really need to teach your niece how to knock, Raylen," Gloria remarked, hastily covering the front of her body with her dress. This was the second time this had occurred, and it had been two days in a row, and she was far from pleased with the interruptions.

"My sincere apologies. I wasn’t informed that you were busy and had company," Emily replied. "I will come back at a later time." With that, she reached for the doorknob, ready to shut the door.

"I was just finishing my last sips," Raylen replied, his eyes bright. He said, "Come in."

But Emily remained at the door, only listening to the shuffling sounds from within until Gloria reached the entrance. The woman smiled at her before saying,

"You shouldn’t be so reliant on Raylen, barging in like that. You never know what you might see." The woman added, "It makes it appear suspicious as well. Goodnight, Lady Emily."

Emily watched the woman walk away, the soft clicking of her heels against the floor gradually fading as she moved farther away from the drawing room.

"What pressing matter brings you to my door?" Raylen inquired, redirecting her attention to him.

Emily noticed him licking the blood residue off his lips as he watched her. Her eyes were briefly distracted by his exposed chest before she looked up to meet his blue eyes. She said, "I have some questions about the Blackthorn Palace and its connection to soulmates. I was hoping you might have some answers... as you were one of the cursed."

"You will need to be a little bit more specific here, Princess," Raylen responded as he walked over to a small trolley next to the couch and poured himself a drink. "Take a seat."

Emily hesitated for a fleeting moment before she stepped inside the room and sat down on the other side of the couch, positioning herself away from him. She then inquired,

"When soulmates don’t form a bond, break it, and then create another bond, does the one left behind face any consequences? Such as marks."

"No. Any repercussions are related to the soul and the mind." Raylen turned around, taking a sip and studying her. When he noticed her gaze, he inquired, "Where is your mark located?"

Emily replied, "On my chest. It looks similar to what Brother Dante used to have."

It would have been easier if she had known the meaning behind the mark and its implications, but Dante had always avoided discussing it, and she hadn’t pressed him for more information back then. Emily heard Raylen click his tongue, and instead of returning to his previous spot, he walked over to where she was, coming to a stop in front of her.

"I can take a look at it. If you will allow me," Raylen offered, knowing the princess was too proper to let him see her skin without permission.

"Look?"

"Just look," Raylen affirmed.

If it were any other time, Emily would have thrown the nearest available object at his head. However, she had drawn the short straw, and she was desperate for his help. Her gaze briefly shifted to his shirt before returning to meet his eyes.

Raylen bit back the remark that hovered on the edge of his tongue as he noticed the distress in Emily’s expression. He proceeded to fasten the three open buttons on his shirt, all the while watching her gingerly untie the belt of her robe, causing it to partially open. Avoiding his gaze, she pushed her robes aside to reveal the inner petticoat. The neckline dipped to the upper swell of her breasts, exposing the root-like markings on her pale skin.

When Raylen first met Emily, she was still a young girl, but it appeared that over the past few years she had blossomed into a beautiful woman. Her dark blonde hair flowed freely, cascading behind her shoulders. Sitting down next to her, he took a closer look at the marking before pulling away and stating,

"Theoretically, the curse should have ended with Dante, as it began with him. But somehow, it has extended to you, being a Blackthorn. In your case, it might not be a negative thing because it will allow you to gauge whether you are healing or deteriorating. Did the mark just appear recently?"

"A few minutes ago," Emily replied, adjusting her robe back to its previous state. "And what about the pain? Is it part of the curse too?"

"It serves as a reminder. In time, the markings will begin to spread, and if you wish to break the curse, you know what to do," Raylen remarked as he picked up his glass from the table.

"It is more challenging than it appears," Emily replied, her gaze shifting to the fireplace flickering in the room. She felt the ache spreading in her chest, and she flinched.

"Want some? It might help with the pain," Raylen offered, extending the glass to her.

"Is that why you drink?" Emily inquired as she stared into his blue eyes.

Raylen smiled, a sweet smile filled with kindness, but Emily knew better than to fall for it. He said, "You know, Princess, for someone who doesn’t like me, you certainly have an awful lot of questions for me."

"They are usually rhetorical," Emily responded.

"And what about the other times?" The smile on Raylen’s lips slowly began to widen.

"Perhaps I don’t want to leave this world with lingering unanswered questions on my mind," Emily replied as the pain in her chest began to subside. Her words elicited a chuckle from him.

"It would be a pity to let the princess die like that," Raylen responded. Returning to their previous conversation, he continued, "What I said earlier is only my guess, but I will send my cute servants to investigate whether there is something more concerning the curse or if it has undergone a mutation."

As Emily rose from her seat, he remarked, "Lately, you seem to be on everyone’s favourite list—entangled with death, plagued by bugs, and who knows what else waits for you in the darkness?"

"I do my best," Emily replied dryly. She offered him a bow and said, "Thank you for answering my questions."

Before she could leave the room, Raylen said, "You know, you aren’t entirely like your grandmother. You are a little too pure compared to her."

"Why does it feel like that wasn’t a compliment?" Emily asked, and she saw him gaze back at her from his seat.

"Probably because it wasn’t," Raylen replied, taking a sip from his glass. He continued, "If you are willing, there’s a way to slow down the corruption of your soul. It might not be something you want to do at this moment, but it’s worth considering if things unfold differently than what you have planned."

Emily, who had been on the verge of leaving, halted and wondered what his suggestion might entail. However, taking into account Raylen’s choice of words, she could guess it wasn’t something that would bring her joy. With her life hanging in the balance, she said,

"I am listening."

"Allowing an archdemon to suck out the corrupted blood from you."