CHAPTER 342: DEMON TICKING BOMB-II

"Plain white is a little bland so add ivory instead," Atlas hummed as his eyes seemed lost in his own words. "Golden embroidery, a watching jewel in the dress as your eyes, an slightly puffed sleeve..."

He was drawing... a wedding gown.

Arabella was quiet as she saw what Atlas had drawn, a fully well designed gown for wedding along with a veil and shoes. Everything was crafted so well... as if he had been staring at the gown for too long to know how it should look.

"Was this what you wanted Circe to wear?" Arabella couldn’t help herself from asking and she could see how Atlas’s fingers hovered on top of the ink bottle.

"Yes," he answered honestly, "Don’t tell this to anyone... well I doubt now anyone would even care but back then when I was crowned, I thought of immediately marrying her. I want to be someone who put that crown of a queen on top of her head, show everyone that she is the best girl in my life and no one could replace who she was. In haste, I made her a wedding gown."

Bella couldn’t answer anything as she could feel his ache despite the casual tone he spoke with.

"Silly me, right?"

But Arabella didn’t laugh. Not because it was unfunny but because she knew it wasn’t what he wanted to laugh at.

"Where is the gown now?"

Atlas shook his head at her question, "Dunno."

She didn’t hear about any wedding dress being handed down from the King of Versailles so it was safe to assume that dress was no more.

"You see," Atlas then continued with a lazy sigh, "I talked to your man."

"With Cassius, I heard," Arabella answered but she recalled how when she had asked Cassius if his conversation with Atlas had gone well, he only looked at her before kissing her forehead.

He only left one comment after their discussion: "I suppose fate did us better".

"But I didn’t hear the content of the conversation," she continued.

Atlas rested his head on the couch pillow, picking apart on his grape, "It’s nothing. Men’s conversation has always been boring to hear. But you know, even though he is a vampire, he’s quite similar to me. I am fond of him."

Arabella smiled, looking at Atlas from head to toe and teased him, "Similar to Cassius?"

Atlas pretended to be offended as he scoffed, "Just so you know, I was feared back when I was the King! They even said that whoever speaks my name thrice would die, and with Circe as my witch, everyone really believed it to the point that it almost became a belief."

"Yes, yes," Arabella sometimes thought that talking to Atlas was like talking to a grandpa.

"Fine. You don’t have to believe me." Atlas rose to his feet, his voice steady but tinged with something heavier. "What I’m trying to say is... he’s a lot like me. Our pasts aren’t the same, but his climb to the throne, it reminded me of my own. And you know that on the very day of my coronation, I learned I was gravely ill. It made me wonder... if you and he might soon walk the same path Circe and I once did."

Ah.

Finally Arabella understood why Atlas had came here.

As the day of Cassius’s coronation drew closer, he recalled his own past and perhaps feared it would be repeated.

"Don’t worry," she assured Atlas, "We won’t walk down the same path."

Atlas’s blue eyes quivered with emotion and with a slight difficulty he forced himself to smile, "You’re right, of course."

She nodded his head back at him and though she do believe that nothing bad was going to await for them... for some reason her heart hadn’t been at peace for the past few days.

There was something gnawing in her heart... like a very terrible premonition.

As Arabella stirred her teacup, she didn’t notice her reflection in the porcelain shift, its eyes a sharper, brighter green, its lips curling into a smile as if awaiting a long overdue payment.

Elsewhere in the castle, Cassius swept his desk clean with a violent crash, papers and ink scattering across the floor. His gaze snapped to Lastor, who had stumbled back, cowering. Never before had he seen eyes so cold, so lethal.

Cassius took an unsteady step back until his spine met the chilled glass of the window. One hand covered his mouth as if to hold in the fury burning his face crimson.

"...Is what you’re saying true?"

Lastor could only stare at the floor, silent.

His silence was all the answer Cassius needed to confirm it.

"You could find a way to solve this. There is still a way to fix this," Cassius pointed but Lastor could only look at him with fear, unable to say that he could promise to find another way to solve this. "What is it?" Snapped Cassius as he knew that Lastor was still hiding something.

"Say it to me— now!" Cassius’s roar shook the chamber.

Lastor trembled, fingers fumbling as he pulled out a scorched, brittle scroll, the remnants of a burnt page he’d salvaged from Alice’s room, where someone had tried to erase all traces.

"A child of a demon," Lastor read aloud, voice cracking. "Lady Arabella was born of a witch and a human... but her magical power rivals that of a demon’s offspring."

Cassius’s glare cut sharper.

"And?"

Lastor swallowed hard, eyes flicking nervously to the torn parchment. "I believed... that the way to control her power was to teach her to channel it properly. But..." His finger traced the faded words. "It seems her birth mother didn’t curse her to hide her power. The curse was meant to contain it, because if the princess’s magic ever burst unchecked, it would kill her outright."

Lastor’s trembling finger hovered over the faded script on the scroll. "That magical power was contained by the curse... but it has a fatal weakness. If she falls to her death four times..." His voice faltered. "The curse will break, and her power will burst. The princess’s life would—"

"ENOUGH!" Cassius thundered, slamming his fist onto the table.