The Amorous Mate: Royal Luna

Chapter 3: Lord Matthew

“Do you think this is the right thing, Venida? Not calling the town’s priest?” Peaking from the window, Vennett calmly asked.

“I am positive that your Grace was just . . . morbidly shocked with all the unfortunate events happening in her life,” replied Venida.

She was sitting on an old wooden chair, busy in tailoring a new dress she has been quite working on for a week already. The maid was impressively skilled in tailoring because she has been in the business just before she decided to leave and become the head servant for the welfare of the Princess Demeter; the Duchess of the house of Saxton.

Of course, serving a pure, royal blooded noble woman—and the fact that Princess Demeter had personally asked her to be her servant—was already a big honor for her. To serve the royal nobles were a great honor for them, the normal, non-elite living men of the Kingdom. That is why she and her sister, Venett, was serving the Princess.

“Then I hope that is the case. Our Grace has been acting up all differently that I could not help but think she is possessed.”

“Vennett, thinking that way would not help our Grace’s sake.” Venida trimmed the lousy yarn she has been using to sew on the sleeve part of the dress.

“But,” contradicted Vennett. Still, her gaze was fixed and glorified at the scenery outside the window. “You have personally heard her dire qualms, haven’t you? She has been telling demonic phrases we could not nor dare understand. She even casted curses! The Duchess of the House of Saxton could never commit such act!”

Venida winced while listening to the nonsensical worries of her sister.

“Then what would the priest do good for her, might you say? If the people finds out that your Grace has been acting up weirdly, then words of foolishness will creep up to the whole province. What effect may that be to the Princess, can you tell?” Venida furiously asked. She stood up. She placed the finished dress on the table beside her and looked at her sister undeviatingly.

“H-Her name. Her . . . nobility, I suppose.”

“Precisely, Vennett. Precisely. And you know, that among all, what she needs right now for the sake of the whole kingdom’s collectedness . . . is her nobility. Her name. Her influence. And if people will think she is possessed, absurd that thought, indeed, how could that affect her?” Venida continued asking. When she noticed that Vennett could not find her words to her rebuttal, she calmed down. She sighed and then turned her back on her. “I’d like to think that Princess Demeter will go back to her usual self once she had adjusted from the … bad news … she received.”

“I … I wish it would be,” Vennett anxiously bit her lower lip. “I am just nothing but worried for her condition. Look what your Grace has been doing outside.”

With concerned lines running on the edges of Vennett’s faces, she watched how Princess Demeter acted up differently outside the mansion. She has been watching her from the window. It is the reason why her stares were all fixated into that place. She was watching Princess Demeter acting up ‘unconventionally’ on the ring of white cherry trees outside the mansion.

“Oh good lord, save our Grace,” prayed Venida when she too saw what the princess was doing.

**

“This is all insane! This is all f*****g insane!”

Chelsea grabbed her hair and abrasively pulled it from her. She flinched however when she realized that grabbing her own hair is actually a wrong idea. It was late when she realized it was painful.

“Ow. That hurts,” she complained.

Then, when again she remembered that she is mad from what was currently happening to her, she did not hesitate pulling her hair once again.

“Damn it! Damn it!” she exclaimed. And then, “f**k! It hurts!” complaining from the pain of pulling her own hair.

She tried so hard to control her fury, but knowing her self, if she detains it rather than letting it explode from her chest, she would mourn in total madness. Her eyes were bedraggled from the pain of pulling her own hair.

Well, she reasoned that she was hurting a different body—not her own—so it is okay. Not a thing to lament. But then, it was her own pain that made her stop whatever she was badly doing because she could not possibly resolve the problem just by torturing the Princess’ body.

She was outside of the mansion—which she assumed is her own house. She was at the field of huge trees arranged in a circular alignment. Those trees were beautiful because it blooms white cherry flowers. It made the ambience of the whole house’s yard aesthetically charming.

She could have admired its beauty—not if she was this mad and maybe about to turn crazy.

She has been recalling what happened to her life, and what is the reason why things like this are happening to her.

She sat down the grassy ground then laid her back on one of the firm trunks of the white cherry trees.

“Okay, let’s unravel the mystery that was happening to me,” she said. “First, I am Chelsea Grace. That is my real name. My real personal identity. I am eighteen years old and I study at a big public high school. Okay, that settles the truth. At least I know the basic things about me.

And then, one afternoon, I was running to the convenience store I am supposed to work at. Yeah, I remember that was what happened. Then, groups of goons attempted to kill me. The f**k! The nerve of those guys stabbing me while they were hiding in darkness!” Suddenly, from madness, she covered her mouth and then loudly gasped. “OMG! If I was stabbed—and it was twice!—then perhaps … perhaps … I-I am dead already? B-But then, here I am, alive and kicking. But then! I am not Chelsea anymore. I am a high-ranked nobility from an unknown world. And I am now named Demeter, am I?”

Out from confusion, she slapped her cheeks and again, disheveled her hair.

“Ah! Damn it!” she complained. She breathed deep once again and tried to calm her rages down. “Okay, so, the body of Chelsea—of me—is dead and one of the suspect was her best friend and the man she is in-loved with.”

Mentioning that, there was a sudden pain that struck on her heart. She immediately felt sad. Still, she had no known enough reason why her best friend would watch her die miserably without doing anything. Yet then, that sorrowful pain must wait because there is something more that needs her laborious thinking.

“The body is dead, but the soul is alive. And, she is transferred to this body—what is even crazy is that this body is not just a normal one, but of a princess?!” she breathed out loudly, all confused and disbelieving. Her eyes were watery from the mixing emotions ripping her apart. She stood up, and accepting—well, partly—her confusing fate, all she can do for now is to scream.

“What the hell is f*****g wrong, huh?! What the hell is wrong!” She looked at the tree she had laid her back earlier. “You big cherry tree, do you know what’s wrong with me, huh?! Do you know what the hell is f*****g wrong?!”

She thought, if by any chance the sturdy white cherry tree she has been kicking (to let out all of her frustrations away) would answer her immature question, then she might confirm that she is now a crazy woman who has been hallucinating with different things.

Yet then, the cherry tree did not answer. Never.

“How utterly sad to see your Grace being this miserable. I could not help but feel the doom as well that you have been keeping inside your chest.”

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice billowed from the surrounding. Chelsea was flustered from the sudden appearing of that deep voice. Deep it was, indeed, yet it was calming. She quickly checked the surrounding until she found out that the calm voice came from a man—or maybe, let us say, a gentleman.

“Excuse me?” Chelsea-s***h-Demeter asked.

“I understand your pain, Demeter. And I am sending my deepest condolences.”

The man was sitting on a bench. But, Demeter could not see his face because he was facing towards a cherry tree that is one by one, shedding off its white beautiful flower. All she could see was his well-toned back, his undeniably attractive posture, and his exquisite, newly-tailored gentleman’s suit.

Chelsea could not speak. She could not reply to him because she have two reasons: first, she does not know him. What if this man was very close to the real Princess Demeter? Then he would immediately notice that she is not the Demeter he knew anymore. And second, the gentleman has so much alluring aura that even she, the Chelsea that is not afraid of any man, could not find best words to reply to him.

But then what did he say? Deep condolences?

Chelsea wondered, is there someone from Princess Demeter’s family . . . dead?

Or maybe he was telling condolences because he knew that the body of Chelsea is dead? Or maybe not.

“You may have not asked, but I wanted to tell you something I could not forget. A story.”

Even though the only thing that Chelsea could see was the lines and details of the man’s fine-toned back, she had quickly saw how the periphery of his jaws and cheeks moving upwards—sign that he is smiling.

Looking at him, Chelsea could not help but imagine the man’s smiling lips. Basing from how attractive—she admit—his body tone and the way he brings his aura, she have also imagined that perhaps, the man’s smiling lips was pinkish, not pale. It was plump and small, not overly lining. It was kissable.

She must be starting to become crazy because she has started imagining even the exact curve of his admirable lips. Yet, she does not know the exact reason why it brought her to that fantasy.

“When I was three, I recall, I have had a pet.”

“Everyone does have a pet. Especially that young age, sure you’ll have the urge to get one.”

Because of the man’s natural talent of becoming a comfortable talker, Chelsea had unknowingly replied from his words effortlessly. She did not realize that she started talking to him comfortably, without any sense of being awkward.

“Indeed. But would you guess what pet I have been once luring into my care, perhaps?”

“What pet? Uhm, everyone likes having a dog. They’re cute and fluffy especially if they are just a pup. They’re unbelievably energetic too that’s why they are branded as the man’s best friend, right? Or if you don’t have a pet dog, then maybe a cat? Cats are independent and a good company in the house,” Chelsea genuinely answered.

Yet, when she heard the light chuckle of the mysterious gentleman who have had his back turned towards her, she was a bit offended.

“Why are you laughing? I’m just stating the possibility!” Irritated, she explained.

“Forgive me, your Grace, it is not about you why I am laughing. It is just that … how funny because it seemed I am always out of the conventional practices. I don’t want to have a pet dog because I have had enough dealing with them—somehow. Likewise, to live with cats is surely a very unwise decision I would make. They’re always mad at me—and I am towards them too, unfortunately.”

“You don’t want dogs or cats as your pet. Then what could it be, a fish? Clown fishes are good display at home.”

The gentleman once again chuckled. “Pardon, your Grace. Fish seemed not fun playing with.”

“Then a bird? Maybe a parrot, or if not, breed of love birds?”

“They’re bound to fly freely in the sky, your Grace. They don’t deserve being caged.”

“Then what’s that pet, then? Don’t tell me you befriended and cared for a snake. Three years old is too young to think of that way,” Chelsea said along with a light laugh.

However, she froze when the gentleman did not reply. She realized, “W-Wait, are you kidding me? You have had a snake as your pet?” Chelsea surprisingly asked.

“Is it uncanny, your Grace?”

Without any hesitation, Chelsea aggressively nodded even though the gentleman could not see her.

“It is exactly weird, dude. When I was seven, I saw a snake crawling on the road. You know what I did? I screamed so loud then I ran away. What have you eaten to have courage taking snake as your pet? Weren’t you afraid it could have eaten you?”

“I love how silent yet wild the snakes are. They’re slithery and seemingly free from the restrictions of body with bones. They can twist and bend their bodies. They can bite and kill their opponents with their venoms. Do you want to know what is even more undesiringly uncanny to me, your Grace?”

“W-What is it?” Chelsea awkwardly asked, because she was not comfortable responding to that remark; the ‘your Grace’.

“I have always loved how my pet snake eats his prey.”

“You’re gross, surely.”

“Maybe I am. Either way, my unconventional love for that tiny pet is more than childish infatuation. I am gravely precise by saying I have loved the snake with all my heart. I would get mad if others touched and played with him. I would get sad if he seemed ignoring my presence. Every single day, that snake is making my day complete and blissful.

Then one day, I started to get worried when he stopped eating his prey. I started worrying when he moved lesser day by day, seeming that he was losing all his strength. You see, a child has a special connection to the nature, that is true. And I have felt that the snake had connected to me, and bid his formal, grave goodbye. That day, I was a tiny child crying over a dead snake.”

“That … was sad. I … I am sorry for that loss.”

“You need not to worry about me, your Grace. What we are worrying is about your welfare. I know, my loss was entirely different from your loss, but, I wanted to tell you I understand what sadness is burdening your chest.”

Chelsea’s face creased because of confusion. She thought, ‘am I losing some context here?’ because she did not get what the gentleman was saying about her own, mournful loss.

“Lord Matthew!” From the inside of the mansion, Venida and Vennett burst out running; rushing towards them.

“Morning, Venida, Vennett,” the man greeted. He held the tip of his hat followed by an elegant bow.

“Pleasant morning to you too, my Lord,” Venida answered. “I am not fully aware nor expected that you will … visit … the Duchess.”

“It was not in my plan. But once heard the bad news, I have found my mare’s feet running towards here,” said the man who, amidst their long conversation, is the first time she had learned that his name is Lord Matthew.

“W-Well, Lord Matthew, I am sad and regretting t-to tell you this, but, uhm . . . y-your Grace has not been feeling well s-since she learned the news and … uhm … sh-she prefers to be uhm … alone for now,” Vennett said, all stammering and nervous.

“I can say that she is,” agreed that Lord Matthew.

News? What sad news could it be? Chelsea thought.

“Perhaps, I shall visit her next time then,” Lord Matthew suggested.

“Th-That would be better, Lord Matthew.”

Finally, the man named Lord Matthew turned towards facing Princess Demeter.

Seeing his face, Chelsea could not explain how she held her breath as their eyes met and contacted with each other.

Lord Matthew elegantly walked towards her, and she could not do anything but be held by his aura. She stood frozen from where she has been standing as she fixed her stare to the gentleman.

When Lord Matthew was near, Chelsea could not explain how her heart beat so fast that she almost choked out from its forceful chaos.

‘What is happening to me?’ she asked herself. She could feel a different kind of heat flowing up towards her cheeks.

“I’ll see you soon, your Grace,” Lord Matthew said. He bowed as gentlemanly as he could be.

Chelsea almost melted on her knees when that man spoke near her. It was too gentle. And, that way of his whispering had made her totally lose her internal composure. His breath swirled on her neck, and she have no complain from its fresh scent.

The man gently grabbed her hand. He kissed it.

“Until next time seeing your beauty, your Grace,” Lord Matthew said. He left a charming grin before he started walking out from the dome of white cherry trees.

Chelsea was all frozen and silent. All she could think as of now, is how godly and desiring Lord Matthew could be.