The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 176: She Came To Me

"They don’t say it directly, but I hear them," Esme uttered softly, her voice laced with pain. "They believe I won’t understand, but I actually do. No one wants to be around me in my pack cause they think I’ll infect them. The only reason I’m not bullied is because of the love my father has for me, and everyone in the pack knows that, so they don’t dare to touch me, even in his absence. That’s why I always follow my father to the palace. I never tell him the actual reason because I don’t want to burden him. He’s already so busy. But I don’t like staying at the pack house without him."

Wrapping her arms tightly around her knees, she continued in a broken whisper, "For a moment, when you told me to leave after realizing I was sick, I thought you were just like the others. That you didn’t want to be around me anymore. I thought.. maybe if I pretended to be healthy, to show everyone around me that I’m alright, people would stop avoiding me. Maybe they’d stop staring at me like I’m some kind of walking disease."

Donovan’s expression softened further as he listened to her speak, and even though their situations were different, he could relate with that.

"Is that why you’ve been pushing yourself too hard?" he asked gently, and her silence spoke louder than words to him.

"Why are you telling me this?" Donovan probed further. His voice was soft, almost tender, as he tilted his head slightly, studying her.

Esme quickly averted her gaze at his question. She turned her head to the side, her fingers fidgeting nervously. "Isn’t that what friends do? Friends tend to share things like this, don’t they?"

Donovan didn’t respond, and Esme’s fingers folded on her lap.

"Give me your hand," he suddenly said, extending his palm toward her. His tone was calm, yet carried an unspoken authority that made her pause.

Esme blinked, caught off guard. "My hand?" She asked softly, her voice uncertain, but something about his expression made her comply.

Slowly, she rested her small hand in his, and that physical contact was enough to send the runes that had spread up to his arms retreating, stopping right at his neck.

Donovan let out a faint hum as if he was reading something unseen. "Hmmm," he murmured. "From what I sense, you’re going to live a long, healthy life."

Esme’s lips parted, and a soft gasp escaped her. She watched as the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile, and he added, "Since you’ve decided to call me your friend, let’s live that life together. Agreed?"

For a moment, Esme could only stare at him, her heart fluttering with a mix of joy and disbelief. Then, a brilliant smile spread across her face, and her eyes closed in contentment as she nodded vigorously.

However, unbeknownst to them, a minister passing by came to an abrupt halt upon spotting the two of them from a distance. His eyes widened in horror as he froze in place, his gaze fixed on Esme and the cursed being whose hand she so trustingly held.

"Unbelievable!" The implications of what he witnessed sent a chill racing down his spine, and he lingered.

Since no one came here very often, Donovan’s guard was dropped, hence, he had no clue they had been spotted. So did Esme. For a moment, he rubbed his eyes, convinced they were playing tricks on him. But when he looked again, the truth hit him like a thunderbolt, draining the color from his face.

A light laugh escaped the little girl’s lips, her cheeks flushed as she leaned closer to the cursed boy. Whatever he had said, it had clearly amused her, casting an air that not even the minister would dare name, but it made his blood boil in quiet rage.

"Damon’s daughter and Zephyr’s son?" The minister’s thoughts reeled, and he struggled to reconcile the reality unfolding before him. The girl was the king’s betrothed, destined to be queen. And yet, here she was, basking in the company of that accursed wretch?

"An abominable union," he muttered, his tone seething with disdain. Every fiber of his being urged him to storm forward and yank the girl away from the monster she dared to smile with. But prudence... or perhaps fear... held him back.

Instead, he quietly turned and retreated back into the palace, his expression twisted in fury and disbelief.

Unaware of their clandestine observer, Esme’s soft chuckle filled their little space. Donovan had just shared a humorous tale his mother used to tell him and his younger brother to lighten the grim atmosphere of their childhood.

It was a simple memory, but it had done its job, bringing a smile to Esme’s lips and brightening their little space once again.

"What time is it?" Donovan asked, and Esme tilted her head toward the twilight sky, the fading hues of gold and violet reflecting in her eyes before turning back to him. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

"It’s past noon, why?"

He crossed his arms, "Time for your medication. I suspected you were lingering longer than usual. Go, and attend to your health. I’ll be returning to my cell soon enough."

Esme pouted when he reminded her of her medications, but she knew he was right. Her father might be looking for her already. Before leaving, she carefully reached for the flask that had been resting beside her throughout their conversation.

Holding it out, she handed it to him, "Take this."

Donovan raised an eyebrow when she shoved the flask into his grasp. She then continued, "Your cell is cold, and though I don’t have the power to free you from here, I can help make your time here a little more bearable until the right moment comes. Drink it, it’ll keep you warm. I’ll come back to refill it for you every evening."

Rising gracefully to her feet, Esme gave him a small, cheerful smile, one that lingered like the last trace of sunlight. "See you later, Don!" she called out before turning and walking away, bouncing on her toes.

Donovan remained where he was with the flask in his hand, its warmth seeping through his fingers and into his palm. For a while, he simply held it, a flicker of something unfamiliar crossing his expression.

Who would have thought a noble, warrior’s daughter would become his unlikely friend?

"How cute," he murmured under his breath, a rare, contented smile gracing his lips as he instinctively clutched the flask tighter.

In the dead of night, the scrape of boots shattered the eerie silence, as two gaoler guards dragged Donovan forward through the hallway, their rough hands seizing him cruelly.

"You sly rat!" One of them barked, his voice thick with contempt. "Sneaking around with the future king’s betrothed in his own palace, are we? Got yourself a bit too bold, didn’t you?"

The other gaoler grunted in agreement, shoving Donovan so hard he stumbled. "When we’re through with you tonight, you’ll be sniffing out that little princess and running for your cursed life! Now move!"

They yanked him forward, their grip like iron, as the grim procession led to the grand main hall. Amidst the flickering torches and oppressive air, Lennox sat upon his throne, his gaze cold and calculating.

Beside the king stood the minister who had witnessed their meeting. His presence was the silent confirmation of the accusation against Donovan that night.

Without ceremony, the gaolers forced Donovan to his knees before Lennox, and he gritted his teeth, the thought of being forced to bow before Lennox grating on his nerves.

The minister’s voice was laced with a bitter edge as he spat, his words dripping with disdain. "This little monster has no fear whatsoever," he sneered, the venom in his tone almost palpable. "After everything that happened, he had the audacity to meet with the future king’s betrothed, despite being held captive for a crime unforgivable."

Lennox stepped forward, his gaze turning icy as he fixed Donovan with a sharp stare, the bags under his eyes most likely prominent. "Did you, or did you not, meet with my betrothed in secret?"

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, and the weight of Lennox’s question hung in the air. Donovan, who remained unfazed, chose not to answer immediately, and for two reasons. The first reason was because of the strange satisfaction he got from the anger radiating off Lennox.

The second, an understanding that no matter his response, he would face punishment. Why should he lie? He would suffer regardless. So, instead of offering a futile excuse, he would simply allow himself to relish the turmoil he sensed from Lennox.

Finally, his lips parted. "I didn’t go to her," he said, his words calm and unwavering. "She came to me."