Heavily burdened by the new information she had just heard, Marlowe absentmindedly made her way to bed with a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders, after shutting the shutters; not paying heed to the new change of the room—in ambiance.
The chill cold from the night breeze made her shiver, due to staying in the water for long till it turned cold.
What her curiosity earned her as she quietly sat in the tub, intently listening to Berkel's tale of what she knew since she started working as a servant in the Royal Castle.
Her heart was in turmoil and her mind was unable to process what her next actions should be.
Surely, she was certain she'd not be able to live here; except she wanted to live in fear for the rest of her life.
Marlowe came to the detestable realization that her whole life in the Royal Castle is going to be like walking on pins and needles.
Getting into her quilt, she heaved a heavy sigh. Sleep was nowhere near as a result of the lingering fear that haunted her after Berkel's part of the rumors concerning the King's birth.
She even got to find out something even worse!
No one in the Castle actually knows the King, except his closest kins.
What has she gotten herself into?
She's just a bride in the dark.
Sigh! She never signed up for any of this.
At this time she'd have been having a good talk with her father under the shining moonlight.
Her father…
"Papa," Marlowe murmured as her expression softened, her eyes turning dull, glistening with tears.
She bit on her lower lip to restrain a sob that threatened to echo, grief clawing at her broken heart.
She wondered how he must be doing, how he must have taken the news.
Definitely, she was sure that the news might have reached him already.
Even if it didn't, her absence was enough sign.
Despite all his assurance, despite him being the stronger one between them both. Marlowe was sure he'd have it worse than her.
Not having to see her anymore.
The worst goodbye ever.
She never believed that one day, she'll no longer be accessible of the freedom to see her father whenever she desires.
It's not even given to her as a privilege.
What a cursed fate.
Her lids closed as the wells of tears shimmering in her eyes rolled down to her chin sorrowfully.
Her shaky lips escaped the grasp of her teeth as a silent cry rumbled from her.
She couldn't take it anymore…the despair.
Her tears trickled down to her pillow, creating a wet patch on the spot. A sudden sense of loneliness overwhelmed her.
Marlowe realized…she was indeed alone.
Pitifully alone.
She rolled over to her side, facing away from the moonlight that seemed to be mocking her at her lowest moment, at her moment of desperation.
Its bright light did not just suit the gloom in her world. Not now, not any longer.
And then, her dull and lifeless eyes flashed with something—a willpower. But it was fast to disappear as dots of inner doubts shrouded her.
She squirmed, pouring more tears as she realized that her lack of self belief was her worst enemy, her self enemy.
The wet patch on her pillow, continually spreading with rare tears of sadness.
Losing track of time, Marlowe sobbed to sleep.
Unbeknownst of the grim existence hiding behind the shadows.
Approaching with silent footfalls, it came to a standstill right in front of her, hunkering to her level, a thumb approaching her face as it slowly, and carefully wiped away the trace of tears on her cheeks.
It was the second time, and yet the same scene. This time. Worst.
Dark red eyes dragged its attention to the wet pillow beneath the beauty. Her hair in correspondence with his gaze, spread wildly around.
"Always in tears, huh?" an unfamiliar voice made its presence in the calm of the night.
Using his slender fingers wrapped in a black glove, to shift her hair, placing it behind her ears in a slow and thorough manner.
Her peaceless expression came into sight. Unlike last night, her face wasn't marred with serenity, though there were streaks of tears outlining her misery then as well.
Though he thought, perhaps it must have been her exhaustion then, and nothing else.
Today…her real emotion was exposed.
A cold smirk crept its way to the man's lips. The red in his eyes glowered darker.
His gaze then moved to the ring don on his left finger, an emerald gem brutally wrapped by an onyx encasement.
Expantiating his smile that held wicked promises. Tilting his head ever so slowly, his red orbs fixed on her once more—still having on that smile.
"Perhaps…you're mine?" his gaze flickered with something not good.
Too deep in slumber, Marlowe was unaware of anything happening around her. All she could feel was a feverish shiver that chilled her spine. So prominent, yet she couldn't awake.
In contrast to the freezing coldness, a warm sensation grazed her cheeks, and she felt warm movements behind her ears.
Before hot breath fanned her face as she heard a voice, so unfamiliar but it caused a reaction from her—all the hairs on her skin stood on the edge, making her skin crawl.
The subconscious action didn't go unseen by the culprit, as a pleased grin crept on the corner of his lips. His eyes glittering with satisfaction.
Seems, even her body knew it too.
It appears the Witch's plans were not that bad after all, there might be little truth in what she said. He just needs to bend it to his will, and that, he was excellent at.
The look in his eyes turned intensely fierce as he gazed at her with malicious intent.
She would be the perfect tool in achieving his long awaited goal, and conquering his adversaries.
Because he had something they didn't, something precious and valuable for his great course…
A human bride.