Married To The Enemy Kingdom's Illegitimate Prince-Chapter 102 — Her Resentment

"You asked me to come here so that we can show that our marriage is working just fine. However, do tell me, which husband would stand by and watch his wife being looked down upon?"

"You," Cynthia replied, looking up at him.

Lucian frowned, perplexed by her answer. What he did not was clearly not stand by.

Cynthia gasped, realizing she had subconsciously said what was in her mind. He was a husband who stood to the side and watched her being looked down upon in her past life. So why was he behaving like a good husband in this life?

Her chest tightened as anger grew within her. If she could, she would have already killed him. However, that would be too easy for him. He needed to suffer, and slowly wish for his own death just as she had. He had to feel every single pain she felt, and only then will her revenge be fulfilled.

"What are you thinking about?" Lucian, who noticed her space out once again, asked.

"I... I was merely not expecting you to do that," she spoke quickly, as if trying to erase the mistake she had just committed.

"You don’t have any expectations from me, do you?"

Cynthia forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Why do you ask?" Her words dripped with a bitterness she couldn’t entirely hide.

Lucian’s frown deepened as he studied her, sensing the undertone of resentment in her voice that he did not notice before.

Did she always have this tone?... or is it the first time?

For a moment, he wanted to argue, to tell her perhaps he wouldn’t mind it if she had hopes in this marriage.

But the weight of her guarded gaze held him back, the word caught in his throat, filling the silence between them with a heavy unspoken atmosphere.

"Then why did you ask me to come here?" he finally asked, his voice quieter this time, almost a whisper. "If there’s truly nothing left to expect from me... why bother?"

Cynthia’s gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress. A part of her wanted to tell him the truth—that every moment she spent beside him was part of a carefully crafted plan to see him broken, to make him feel the agony she had endured. But saying it out loud would only ruin the facade she had built, the one that made her appear as the dutiful, patient wife he never deserved.

"Because..." she hesitated, her mind raced as she tried to find an answer. "Because you need to be here."

Her words stung, though Lucian couldn’t understand why. Perhaps it was the icy resolve in her tone or the way she spoke. He seemed nothing more than a physical need in her life rather than an emotional one.

"And why is that?" he demanded, his voice shifting to a distant tone. He didn’t want to let down his guard before her when she seemed to be hiding behind a thousand wall.

"I need to survive."

The resolve in her voice caused his lips to quiver for a second, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

"You talk as if I’m some monster that will kill you. I already told you before. As long as you perform your duty of a perfect wife, I will let you have a decent life in Selvarys but the moment you—" freewebnøvel.coɱ

"Ruin things, you will make my life a living hell. I... I remember," she smiled. A soft chuckle escaped her, an attempt to hide the anger overwhelming her.

A bitter laugh slipped from her lips. "And... a monster, you say?" She met his gaze, her eyes cold and unwavering. "At least one can predict when a monster will attack but when it comes to a human... " she paused, not continuing her sentence, as if expecting Lucian to understand the remaining words.

Lucian did not say a word and stood still. He was for once at a loss of words before her. He would always manage to give her a sarcastic remark and ignore whatever argument they had. But it wasn’t the case this time because he thought the same.

Humans are worse than demons. And I know it better than anyone else.

He clenched his fist, lowering his gaze. It was after a long time he did not want to make eye contact with Cynthia.

Hearing no answer coming from Lucian, Cynthia turned her heels.

"I hope we don’t have to meet during the remaining one day I will stay in my kingdom. It won’t be proper to ruin things more than they already are. I am your wife in Selvarys, Your Highness. But here," she paused for a moment. "Allow me to be Princess Cynthia when we are in Eldoria."

Having said so, she rushed away from him.

She looked around, and it seemed she was the only one who was unable to enjoy the grand royal wedding ceremony. Every noble man and woman ate, danced, and laughed as if there could be no happier days for them.

As Cynthia drifted through the crowd, her thoughts still swirling with anger and frustration, a gentle hand suddenly grasped her arm. She turned to see an elderly woman draped in the white ceremonial robes of the temple, her eyes wide with awe as they settled on Cynthia.

"Your Majesty... Queen Irina?" the woman whispered, her voice a blend of disbelief and sadness.

Cynthia’s brow furrowed. "No," she corrected gently, though her tone held a hint of irritation, pushing away the hand that rested on her shoulder. "I’m her daughter—Princess Cynthia. I don’t really look like her... So why would you call me that?" She asked, her voice hinting a little bit of suspicion.

The dark green-haired woman blinked in surprise, stepping back slightly, yet her gaze did not waver.

"But, Your Highness... you are the very image of her. The same grace, the same aura..." She paused, her hand pressing to her heart as though to still its rapid beat. "And you bear the same mana energy of a saintess."

Cynthia’s heart skipped a beat.

Saintess? She never heard of such a thing. Her mother had never spoken of anything of that sort with her nor did her father and brothers.

She tried to laugh it off, but the unease settled deeper in her stomach, causing it to turn. "I’m not sure what you mean," she murmured, almost to herself. The memories of her parent’s death flashed through her mind, almost causing her heart to tear apart. She had buried that pain inside her however, being inside this temple only revived those hard days she desperately wished to erase from her memory.

The woman leaned in, her voice lowered but filled with conviction.

"Your mother was blessed, dear child. It was kept a secret but she carried the light of the divine in her, and she would lead us into an era of peace between humans and demons. And now that I see you, her daughter, bearing the same light. It is unmistakable. Even if I have aged, my eyes wouldn’t betray me, nor my senses."

Cynthia felt the world tilt slightly, her hands clenching as she processed the woman’s words. Was this true? Or merely an illusion created by someone desperate for hope? Cynthia didn’t know how to feel—pride, fear, or anger at yet another secret she never knew of in her past life.

"But..." she hesitated, glancing at the woman with a gaze filled with uncertainty. "I can merely use a few spells... and my powers aren’t as powerful either."

The woman smiled knowingly, a spark of joy in her sky-blue eyes.

"Sometimes, the light takes time to reveal itself. But I sense it in you. You will know when the time comes."

Cynthia felt a shiver crawl up her spine, the weight of the woman’s words leaving her both dazed and conflicted.

"Do you mean... I could be a?..." She paused, the possibility itself being ridiculous.

"It isn’t rare for Ramsel’s lineage to inherit divine powers and become a saintess. Rather, it was only natural for you to become one. But... you haven’t been coming to the temple for years..."

Cynthia’s mind raced with possibilities upon hearing the elderly woman’s words. Had her mother truly been a saintess? If so, why had she hidden it from her? And could it be the reason she awoke mana powers was because she could be?...

She wanted to shake off the encounter, unable to trust her.

After all, she might be a liar. How can she know mother? But... Why would someone who works at the temple lie to me?

Yet, the woman’s words lingered, intertwining with the resentment already festering inside her.

A resentment towards the gods rose— the ones she was supposed to worship if she were truly a saintess. Why did they not give her these powers when she needed them the most— in her previous life?

The same feeling of hatred she felt upon the discovery of her magic powers overwhelmed her. She clenched her fist as they trembled in fury.

"Why do you always do this to me?" She looked up at the sky, now standing beside a window. "Why do you... keep ruining my plans? I was fine without all of these... So why?" She whispered, although subconsciously, she knew no one would be able to answer her questions.

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