Chapter 43

Marina’s voice rang out loudly, but Lariana struggled to hear it clearly. It reminded her of the muffled echoes she had often heard underwater during her childhood swims in the lake.

Marina tugged at her arm, urging her to move away. They hid behind the orchestra, hidden in a corner of the bustling hall. 

Marina’s frustration mounted, and she stomped her foot in silent protest.

“Has Duke Delacroix lost his mind? Bringing another woman as his partner?”

“Marina, I need some fresh air.”

The spring night wasn’t cold, yet Lariana’s body trembled uncontrollably. Sensing her distress, Marina draped her shawl around Lariana’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“By any chance, if Cain or Mother asks, would you please tell them you don’t know where I am? I want to be alone.”

“Where are you going? I’ll come with you.”

Lariana pushed her away abruptly, her tiara slipping and entangled in her unruly hair. Swiftly, Marina caught the exquisite headpiece before it could fall to the ground.

With a pallid, weak hands, Lariana brushed Marina’s arm aside. Her hand felt cold and clammy, damp with perspiration.

“Marina! Please, please… let me be alone.”

* * *

Evita absently ran her fingers through her fiery red hair. In Martessen, having red hair means being part of the imperial bloodline, a lineage that had once condemned those born with the same fiery locks to a grim fate outside the imperial family.

Her father, Duke Kaidel, had managed to preserve that bloodline through strategic marriages, albeit barely. Evita’s mother, a noblewoman, has filled his criteria, and her aunt, Marcella, had done strategic marriage as well. Even her younger brother, the heir to the Duchy, was now entangled in an unwanted engagement. And now, it was her turn to bear it.

After her failed engagement to Cain, Duke Kaidel had relentlessly pushed her into new engagements. Countless engagements were formed, only to be broken off soon after. And now, once again, Evita had taken matters into her own hands, unilaterally declaring the end of her latest engagement.

Her father’s patience had finally worn thin. His determination to see his daughter married off swiftly had reached its peak, and he intended to make it happen as soon as possible.

“Isn’t my word clear enough, Cain Delacroix? Why must I repeat myself?”

Cain, who had been gazing out of the carriage window, turned to face Evita and responded, “The person I was yesterday and the person I am now are different.”

“Don’t spout nonsense. Will you cooperate with my plan? Answer me.”

Just a few days ago, Evita had approached Cain, requesting that he accompany her to the ball. Unsurprisingly, the mad Cain had rejected her proposal. Consumed by his hatred with Lariana, he had little interest in women, let alone attending a ball with Evita.

When her request was met with refusal, Evita had resorted to threats.

“Isn’t it a bit unfair?”

“No, I think I’m being generous. Not only will I cover up the flaws of your wife, but I’ll also help you.”

Evita’s words twisted Cain’s anguish further. “How can you call it generosity when it’s veiled in threats?”

Evita’s threat was about Lariana. “Choose wisely. If you don’t want your wife to be caught as a witch and burned at the stake, that is.”

The content of her threat about the ludicrous tale of Lariana being a witch might held some truth. According to Evita, witches used to control trolls, and the recent sightings of these creatures in the Witch’s Forest served as evidence.

Initially dismissing it as baseless rumour, Cain tried to push the notion aside. However, fate seemed to have other plans as a book about the Alena family unexpectedly fell into his hands. As Cain delved into the pages, his face hardened with each revelation.

A sense of unease settled within Cain, and he struggled to contain his rising anger. Reluctantly, he found himself succumbing to Evita’s proposition.

In their power struggle, Evita emerged victorious. “Cain, please don’t let me become a villain.”

As they made their way into the palace, the carriage came to a halt. Cain rose first, opened the carriage door, and extended a hand to Evita.

Cain’s face, on the verge of exploding, was met with Evita’s cheerful smile as she took his hand. 

“Thank you, Duke Delacroix.”

As the two stepped into the grand hall, the gaze of all the nobles fell upon them. Marcella and Duke Kaidel stood nearby, their expressions filled with satisfaction.

Evita, who gazed at Cain’s perfectly chiseled profile as if it were crafted by a master sculptor, let out a chuckle. “Looking for Lariana?”

He nodded silently.

“The Princess and Prince Lejandro will come soon, so she probably avoided them. You can ask Madam Deryl, the Marchioness over there.”

With a casual gesture of her chin, Evita directed Cain’s attention towards Marina before quickly returning his focus to Evita.

“Evita Kaidel, make sure you keep your promise.”

“I understand. Thank you again. I’ll do my best.” Evita obediently replied, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips, as if she felt a tinge of remorse for her earlier threat against her cousin.

Just then, Princess Sonia made her entrance, accompanied by Lita.

“Duke Delacroix, Lady Kaidel.”

The stark contrast in atittude between the two people couldn’t be more apparent upon the princess’ arrival. Evita smiled, but Cain, feeling time slipping through his fingers, let out a deep sigh.

“Lady Kaidel, you seem to be in a good mood. Why is Duke Delacroix so flustered?”

“Duke Delacroix seems to be looking for his wife.” Having broken off the engagement just a few days ago, Evita appeared happier than ever. In response to the princess’s question, she playfully replied, and the princess brightly smiled.

“Duke, go see your wife quickly,” she gestured towards Cain, who appeared speechless and bewildered.

Without wasting a moment, Cain hurriedly crossed the grand hall’s grid-patterned floor, his footsteps echoing through the room.

Meanwhile, Lariana, having left the grand hall, gazed up at the sky. The moon, large and round, illuminated the night. Yet, her Cain was nowhere to be found.

Lariana had always avoided looking at Cain when he was in the throes of madness, knowing it would only bring her pain. 

“Why here, of all places?” Lariana wondered aloud, regaining her composure. She found herself standing beneath the pergola in the corner of the palace gardens, the same spot where Cain had proposed to her.

Taking a seat on the cold marble bench beneath the pergola, Lariana couldn’t help but shiver at the chill emanating from the stone.

In the end, she had married him. Whenever she wanted to escape from social events at the palace after their marriage, she inevitably found herself here.

As she hastily rose from the stone seat, a familiar voice reached her from behind. “Lari.”

Cain’s use of her nickname, ‘Lari’,  indicated that he was in his right mind. He had never called her that during his episodes of madness.

Glancing up at the sky as she passed by the pergola, Lariana observed the clear night sky and the large, round moon. It was the expected time. Her Cain had returned.

“Where are you going?” Cain inquired, his voice filled with the gentleness and kindness she had grown accustomed to during their happier times.

“Can’t you hear me?” he pressed when she didn’t respond.

The meticulously trimmed camphor tree wall, the moonlit marble sculptures gleaming white, and the fountain adorned with gods and fairies—each captivating sight failed to capture Lariana’s attention as she walked past them.

When his wife continued to ignore him, Cain’s anxiety grew, and he called out to her with a louder voice. “Lariana!”

As he screamed, it draw the attention of those who were hiding in the garden enjoying their secret affair. 

“Don’t scream!” Lariana covered her ears with both hands, crouching down in hesitation.

Cain rushed over, instinctively enveloping her in a protective embrace as she curled up tightly.

“Why are you acting like this?” 

“Cain, are you really Cain?” Lariana’s voice held a touch of despondency. She would have preferred him to be in his madness.

“Yes, I am your husband.” 

When he wasn’t plagued by madness, he loved her with unwavering devotion. Even in his tormented state, he never betrayed her with issues pertaining to other women. While rumors circulated that Cain would remarry with Evita, they were mere gossip and speculation.

She believed that his madness was born solely out of his love for her. It was the source of her strength and pride, allowing her to endure until now. In the darkness, she reached out to feel his face, seeking reassurance.

The distinctive features, etched with bold lines, undeniably belonged to him. She lowered herself, bending her knees to align her gaze with her husband’s, and then clasped his arms tightly before succumbing to tears. Caught off guard by her sudden display of emotion, Cain guided Lariana to the carriage.

Cain settled Lariana upon his lap, soothing her trembling form. Weary and drained, Lariana sought solace against Cain’s chest, where she could hear the rapid and irregular rhythm of his heartbeat.

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why did you do that?”

 “What are you talking about?” 

“Why did you come with Lady Kaidel?” His jaw tensed uncomfortably at the unexpected question. He wiped her forehead. 

After a moment of hesitation, he mustered the strength to speak, his words heavy with difficulty.

 “…Evita broke off the engagement.” 

“So what?” 

“She’s a pitiful girl. I hope you could understand a little.” Lariana writhed in anguish, collapsing onto the carriage floor. She crawled upon the crimson carpet, her grip desperately clinging to Cain’s knees as she pleaded.

“…Cain. Cain. Cain! I am the pitiable one. Am I not deserving of pity? To live with a madman like you?.”

“You are pitiful. And I’m sorry. It feels sinful for me to only think about you. No, I have gone mad.” 

“Then please, just let me go now.” 

Because she truly loved him, she believed she could endure any hardship or trial within their marriage. But once the trust had been shattered, she no longer wished to hold onto this maddening love.

Her decisive reason for entering into this marriage, her family, was already laid to rest in the Grand Temple. That was why there was no need to stubbornly cling to this nonsensical married life anymore. 

“That’s not possible.” 

“I want a divorce.” 

“Lariana, why won’t you understand my sincerity?” 

“I… I don’t know about your sincerity. Your madness and the real you… Now I’m confused. Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe loving me is what drives you mad and hating me is what you truly feel.” Read ahead here.