Garden Of Poison-Chapter 223: Story of the past

Music Recommendation: A Kind Waltz - James Quinn

—

Emily stared at Raylen’s hand, which carefully placed the sharp glass shard on the table. Her eyes then shifted from his hand to his face, watching him as he licked his lips. When his blue eyes shifted to meet hers, she quickly looked away, pretending to be busy looking at the flickering flame of the nearest candle.

"You know, Princess," Raylen drawled. "We still need to bandage your wound."

Emily squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then raised her foot to place it back on the surface of the couch between them. She asked him, "Are your windows broken too, like mine?"

"No, they are in perfect condition," Raylen responded, leaning forward and opening the first-aid box. "It seems that hailstorms just know how to find the right people to wake up." He picked up the bandage roll and turned back to her. "You see, I wasn’t sleeping."

"Do you ever sleep?" Emily inquired with slight interest. She had known that Dante didn’t sleep very well, and he was often found wandering the palace corridors in the middle of the night as if troubled by something. She wondered if it was an archdemon thing.

"Sometimes, when I have a woman next to me. Their warm blood is like milk, lulling me to sleep at night," Raylen grinned, and Emily wrinkled her nose in response.

"What about other times?" Emily asked, her voice a gentle murmur amidst the sound of the pelting rain.

Raylen’s eyes sparkled with something Emily couldn’t read. It wasn’t very often that the princess showed an interest in his life—in what he did and didn’t do—and it appeared as though the walls she had erected around herself were slowly but steadily lowering, one brick at a time.

"You know, Princess," Raylen began. "When a woman and a man spend a quiet night together like this one, bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight, and everything else is drowned out, one is bound to fall for the other." The underlying meaning of his words didn’t escape Emily.

"I was simply making conversation. I can remain silent."

"Aw, don’t be like that. I like it when you argue and we squabble," Raylen teased lightly. "It’s not often that someone dares to challenge me with their words and thoughts."

Emily shot him a pointed look and retorted, "Based on your own words, you should be careful not to fall for me."

Raylen’s hand gently touched her foot, lifting it to place it on his lap, allowing her to stretch her leg comfortably. After a moment of silence in the room, with only the crackling fire as background noise, he remarked calmly,

"When you put it that way, it only makes me want to do just that," and she couldn’t help but notice the wicked smile on his lips.

Emily wondered if she should have bit back her retort, but Raylen seemed to have a knack for making her blab whatever was on her mind. She shouted in her head, Don’t fall for me! because saying it out loud would only make him more determined. She felt his hands as he wrapped the bandage around her foot, his movements gentle compared to the pain she had felt when he was sucking her blood earlier.

"I pass time by reading or writing. Playing on the piano, or simply roaming around the castle or the nearby towns. That’s how I fill my days," Raylen replied to her earlier question.

Doesn’t it become mundane? To live the same life and hours for countless years? Emily asked herself.

"Your foot is all good now and should feel better by morning," Raylen said, his gaze fixed on her delicate foot.

Even in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the candles, he noticed the paleness of her foot and how her toes pressed together. He felt the urge to pull it behind him, and the ensuing mental image that followed was something that hadn’t crossed his mind until this very moment.

Emily cleared her throat and pulled her foot from his grasp to lower it to the ground. However, Raylen’s gaze followed it, and she quickly drew it behind her nightdress, which wasn’t long enough to fully conceal it.

The archdemon tilted his head and asked, "Why are you hiding it?"

"Why are you staring at it?" Emily retorted.

"I was admiring your feet," Raylen remarked. When Emily started to adjust her nightdress once more, Raylen added, "I have now seen your bare neck and feet. I wonder what you’re trying to conceal, modest princess."

"It is still inappropriate for a man to stare. Like that." Emily pressed her lips together, aware that the look he had in his eyes while bandaging her foot was different from his current gaze, and she regarded him with suspicion.

"Like what?" Raylen innocently inquired, deriving joy from her discomfort and the embarrassment that was slowly overtaking her.

Emily shot him a glare. "You know what," she replied. The leader of the sheep was a wolf in disguise.

"I don’t. Please enlighten me, Princess, so that I don’t repeat it by mistake," Raylen said with a straight face, his voice dripping with innocence.

Emily wasn’t going to fall into another one of his traps, so she simply murmured, "Nothing."

"Do you mean to say that you were groundlessly accusing innocent me? When I’ve done you no harm?" Raylen poked her, and he crossed his legs as if he intended to sit with her.

"If you are innocent, what does that make me?" Emily asked, pulling her good foot up to cross it over the other and letting them rest on the couch. She leaned one side of her body against the couch. "Do you ever manage to rile Lauren and Westley? They must truly respect and love you."

Raylen softly chuckled. "Not often. It gets boring when they don’t react as much as the living do. People who visit Hell tend to turn dull," he mused, concluding with a thoughtful hum. "Lauren has always been exceptionally patient; it must have influenced my own traits. As for Westley, you know him. If I were to express a desire to crack his skull open, he would happily oblige without question. They are just the kind of people I like when it comes to loyalty."

"It must be nice to be able to have that kind of support," Emily remarked softly.

"It is," Raylen replied, watching Emily as she shifted, pulling her body closer to the corner of the couch as if preparing to curl up like a cat. "If you ever need someone, we can search for suitable demons and see which one would be a good match for you."

"I am good, thank you," Emily smiled and continued, "It is hard to trust people, and I am not prepared to place my trust where I am not ready."

While she liked her current maid, who appeared enthusiastic about simple activities like going out and accompanying her to meet suitors, she didn’t share the same level of closeness that she had with Anastasia. There was always an underlying fear, which made her keep her distance. And that fear had resurfaced with the news about the kidnapper. She asked him,

"How does the Barter Soul transition for use take place?"

"The Barter Soul, you in this scenario, would be patiently awaited until your soul reaches a certain stage of corruption, which doesn’t necessarily have to be fully complete," Raylen explained to her, bringing his hand forward to inspect and see if he had missed any blood. He continued, "The remaining process is one you have already witnessed, where your chest will be opened up to extract your soul. While it is your soul that is the essential component, your juicy heart will also be pulled out for the sacrificial ritual. Also, the moon needs to be in sight for whatever transaction takes place."

"You know quite a lot about it," Emily murmured, and she noticed a glimmer in his eyes.

A slow smile crept up his lips, and he replied, "That’s because I once went looking for it."

Emily and Raylen locked eyes, and she heard him say, "Don’t look so worried. I don’t have any use for Barter Souls now."

"Why did you go looking for one before?" Emily inquired cautiously, and she realised she seemed to be drawn into all the craziness happening around her. Whom did he want to bring back?

"It was someone beloved. She was dear to my heart and was so young. Someone brutally killed her," Raylen replied, the look in his eyes darkening at the haunting memory.

Emily’s eyes slightly widened at this revelation, and she wondered who this girl or woman Raylen had lost was. She replied, "I am sorry for your loss..." Though he didn’t possess a heart, it was clear that there were things from the past that deeply affected him.

The memory upset Raylen, the smile on his face disappearing, and he began to share, saying, "Alice, that was her name. She was full of life, and one day I found her dead; blood pooled around her body." He paused for a moment, then continued, "My father, though a king, had a deep interest in learning medicine, especially about the bodies of different beings. It was from him that I first learned about the Barter Soul. Or overheard it."

From his father...? Emily doubted that many people knew about the existence of the Barter Soul, because, despite having gone through many books, she had never come across information about it, and neither had her family.

"When you say your king father, that is—"

"The one from this castle. The Storm one," Raylen replied.

"Did you ever find it?" Emily asked, curious to know if he had managed to revive Alice.

Raylen’s lips twisted for a moment before he smiled, and he said, "Every time my father brought in a fresh body, I would open it up before he had the chance and attempt to use the soul. It was winter, so it was easier to keep her body from decaying. I seemed to have picked up a few hobbies from back then, or discovered what interested me. I learned that other souls can be used to make the dead move, but it doesn’t always work as expected."

"But wouldn’t he know? With the opened..." Emily began to ask, and she saw Raylen nod in agreement. freewebnøvel.coɱ

"When you have siblings that tattletale, it is hard to go undetected—in the present, had," Raylen chuckled, though the humour didn’t reach his eyes. "And when my father found out, he was not one bit happy. Those were some good old days. Unfortunately, I had to let go of her, and somehow, with time, I made peace with it. In my own way."

Emily wished she had words to comfort him, but she knew that a person’s loss left a void, and one could only hope that it would get better with time and that the pain and grief would fade, if not disappear completely. She said,

"I hope wherever she is, she’s happy."

"Oh, she is having one hell of a time." A slight smirk tugged at one corner of Raylen’s lips. "Want to see her?"

Emily raised her eyebrows, inquiring, "You have a portrait of her?" It was becoming increasingly evident that the archdemon’s earthling life was truly something. She nodded, curious to see this woman. "Yes," she replied to his question.

As they both stood up, Raylen’s gaze shifted to her feet. He questioned, "Will you manage to walk on your own or do you need a piggyback ride like before?"

Emily felt blood rush up to her neck at the memory of her drunken night, and she quickly replied, "I can walk."

As they took their time making their way down the stairs, Emily caught sight of the servants repairing two windows that had been shattered by the force of the hailstorm. The storm had considerably subsided from before, and they continued to walk, with Raylen carrying the lantern.

They descended another flight of stairs to the floor below, where the clamour of the hailstorm was blocked by the surrounding walls and the ceiling above, bringing in silence around them. Raylen halted before one of the portraits, and on cue, so did Emily, coming to stand beside him. He raised the lantern to illuminate the portrait so that she could see it clearly, and she recognised it as the same portrait she had come across before.

She didn’t want to lie, but the portrait was unnerving, especially because all the faces were scorched. Her eyes moved from one person to another until they landed on a figure dressed in female clothing. She inquired,

"Is it the one on the right?" For someone who claimed to like Alice, Raylen had burned even her likeness. But then again, it seemed like he had burned even his own face.

Raylen, who was admiring the artwork on the portrait, responded, "Hm? She’s right there on the far left."

Emily’s eyes moved back to the left, but she saw someone in boy’s attire and turned confused. Was this some sort of trick painting she couldn’t grasp? She pointed her finger and said, "That’s a boy there."

"Look next to him," Raylen remarked, and Emily followed his instructions. Her hazel brown eyes focused intently, then moved lower, and her eyebrows furrowed. She asked,

"Alice... was a cat?" Emily blinked, staring at the image of the dusty white cat.

"A very fluffy one."