The Amorous Mate

Chapter 11: Reveal

“Your Highness, I hope you’re not into doing weird, unexpected things once again. Goodness gracious!”

Chelsea weakly smiled to the servant who was massaging her forehead, throbbing in pinches of pain.

Venida and Vennett were worried. They feel troubled that their Princess was acting spaced-out, and was prone to do awkward acts that would cause her noble embarrassment.

“I . . . I won’t” Chelsea assured.

The way how the princess paid her respect earlier to the queen was one of the things Venida never expected.

What kind of bowing it was, that she would lay her knees flat on the ground, and place her head as if she was kissing the floor? Indeed, it was unprecedented.

“Then off you go, your Grace,” said Venida.

Now, Chelsea gathered all her courage. She breathed in lump amount of air, then exhaled it out in hope that she could calm the chaos troubling in her chest.

She stepped through the doorway with all her might.

‘Damn it. Why do I even need to do this when I’m not really that damn f*****g Princess?’ she complainingly asked to herself.

Troubled with her own question, she did not realize her failure to conceal the natural domineering aura of Demeter.

She was looking on the ground, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists hidden at her back. What she did not saw was that, the moment she stepped on the place, the entire people inside was looking at her—awed, fascinated, thrilled, and even intrigued.

To give context, Chelsea entered the Woodenworth Mausoleum. It is a mausoleum next to the Nightingale Palace where the dead King and Crowned Prince was emplaced for an in-house pay of respect and mourning.

When Chelsea felt she was being watched by hundreds of eyes, her feet seemed a block of ice. It moved stiffly. There were a lot of people—unfamiliar faces—that was watching her as she walked. All of them were wearing black, and written on their faces were either pretentious or genuine mourning over the royal family’s loss.

Chelsea bit her lip. ‘Bullshit, I don’t know what to do!’ she thought.

The thought of almost hundred a people closely watching her every move, makes her the urge throw whatever she has eaten earlier. She never realized she has this kind of social anxiety. Or perhaps, she was just scared to commit any mistake while in their front. She knew that one of the Princess’ job is to look perfect— but she too knew that she was clueless how the princesses does that kind confidence.

“You are a sight for an eye if my thoughts were right. You are the Duchess from the Province of Saxton.”

Chelsea suddenly froze when from her back, a lovely maiden’s voice erupted.

Nervous and stiff, she slowly turn to the woman in aim to find out to whom does the lovely voice belongs to.

When done, she saw a beautiful woman—fresh from her new bloom—all smiling at her with ethereal passion. Her smile became even wider when her expectation turned right.

“Y-Yes, that’s me?” Chelsea answered in a doubtful tone.

“Sister!” the maiden quickly hugged Chelsea. “Why, for over a month, you haven’t even bothered visiting me and the Kingdom! Heaven knows how much I and Mama, and Papa and even our brother Harry longed for your visit. Sadly though, you would not see Papa and Brother alive and smiling anymore.”

“Oh, I . . . I am definitely sorry for that,” Chelsea anguished.

Internally, she was panicking because she does not know the woman, nor her name, nor her supposed to be affiliation to her—maybe then, the maiden, as what she called her earlier, was her sister.

Now the maiden noticed the remarkable change of Princess Demeter’s behavior. Her forehead creased. She became curious.

“Are you perhaps alright, sister?” she asked.

“Huh? Ah, yeah. I am as good as bull. I am just . . . uhm . . . tired from the travel.”

“I see,” the maiden understood. “Have you visited Mama, then?”

Chelsea bet her life that what the maiden was pertaining to, is the Queen.

“Uhm, yeah. She granted me my request to visit Papa and brother. She could not join for today because she said she’s still not accepting what has happened to her, uhm, gentlemen.”

Chelsea cringed from what she said. Never in her life had she committed such act of fooling and dishonesty. Yet now, she was forced to act and be someone that is totally different from her—a whole level of lies and fooling, indeed.

“Princess Cassiopeia, your suitor, Lord Monterick is asking for your company.” Out from nowhere, an escort appeared and asked for a certain Princess’ presence.

“Ugh! Even at the burial of my Papa and Brother? How long would he still be as fool-headed as a dog? I have been rejecting him for hundred times!” the maiden in Chelsea’s front grunted. She then looked at her. “Well then, sister, it is awful to leave you hanging here in the middle. But I have something not so important, actually, that I have to tend to.”

“No, it is okay. Go, talk to your suitor,” Chelsea replied and left an awkward smile.

“Heaven forbid, but I have been praying for him to stop his foolishness.” She grunted and then started leaving.

Now, Chelsea mentally noted the maiden’s name. Cassiopeia.

Princess Cassiopeia, to be exact. To add detail, she is her sister.

She wondered if she still has other brother and sister she needs to add to her recognition. Aside from her dead brother—who she does not need to worry because he is already dead—and her newly discovered sister, Princess Cassiopeia, are there other Princes or Princesses in the royal family? Chelsea have decided to ask it later to the V-maids.

Now, a few distance away from her front, Chelsea noticed two huge box-like things piled with displays of different white-colored flowers and crestfallen candles. The newly arrived visitors were going in that place, sadly glimpsing at its inside, and mournfully bowing as if there was the need to pay respect. Those were caskets. Coffins. One would know that it was where the King and the Crowned Prince was laying. Forever resting.

Slowly, she went near the place. She put white roses on each of the top of the coffins. After that, she has taken the opportunity to look at the faces of the dead King and the Crowned Prince inside the casket.

Tears fell from her eyes. But, she does not know why she was crying. In truth, she knew she was not sad. She does not feel anything but sorry for the loss of the real Demeter.

But her chest was aching. Her lungs constricting. It was the body of Princess Demeter who is acting. Her eyes watered in pain and mourn.

In the middle of her crying, Chelsea thought what loss this Kingdom has when the Crowned Prince died. She can see how handsome the man was. She even thought that perhaps if that sexy prince was alive, she would perhaps do her best to seduce him—it doesn’t matter if it would sound like an incest. But well, since the man died, she does not want to feel like she was to resort in necrogamy. That was disgusting.

Then again, she remembered her conversation with Venida. She remembered her saying that when paying respect to the dead, she shall cry. Because, it was her family that is in the burial.

Yet, what she only do is stand. Tears may have been coming out of her eyes, but was it enough a reaction for her not to be called weird? Maybe, one from the visitors inside the mausoleum were watching her. Then, because she was not showing any remarkable reaction, she would be branded weird and unnatural. Perhaps because of that, her secret of actually being not the real Princess Demeter will be revealed. Then she will be tortured. She will be banished. Shivers ran down on her spine from her imagination.

Frightened from her own thoughts, she started to act as if crying.

She bawled, to be exact. She bawled loudly enough for her to be heard by everyone inside the mausoleum.

“No! Papa, Brother! Why must you do this to me?! Why must you left?! Oh my heart! My heart is fainting in this regretful day! Sorrow! Sorrow!”

She even added few words to add more effect to her hard acting. She used the line from the script she remembered memorizing when she joined the theater club of her school, back in the modern world.

As she acted crying and sobbing loudly and hugging the coffin and shaking it badly, she was celebrating inside her thoughts. ‘Venida would be so proud of me,' she thought.

Yet then, while she was in the middle of her proud acting, someone tightly grabbed her wrist. Without asking, she was pulled by the man who held her.

It did not took a minute before she realized that the one who grabbed her, was the man she mostly wanted to talk with—Lord Matthew.

“Lord Matthew! Where are you taking me?” Chelsea asked.

The lord did not answer. He just passed through the ocean of people along with Princess Demeter. When they got outside, Chelsea was dragged by the lord towards the mausoleum’s isolated, back place.

She was confused from his suddenness. She does not even knew that he was inside the mausoleum. She too had no idea why was he dragging her—and hardly pinning on the wall. He was growling.

“Sh-s**t, Matthew. Chill down.” Chelsea asked as she tried to remove her wrist from his hand that pinned her to the wall.

Right in her front, she can see the perfect view of the lord: his plump lips, his raging eyes, his fine jaw, his sleek hair, his deep breathing which she can feel touching her neck.

To admit, Lord Matthew is attractive. Too attractive that it arouses Chelsea’s desire to . . . kiss and touch him.

“Where is she?” asked Lord Matthew.

His breathing was hard and raging—yet, in Chelsea’s eyes, it only made him more desirable; more attractive.

“S-She who?” Chelsea asked.

“She!” Lord Matthew was enraged.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about! Bullshit!”

“She that is supposed to be inside that body! She whom I deeply and passionately loved! The one who should be mourning, not you! The one who should be the real Demeter!”

As soon as the lord’s words processed in her head, Chelsea’s body froze; her jaw dropped in utter surprise.

“I . . . I . . . h-how did you . . . how did you know?”