Married To The Enemy Kingdom's Illegitimate Prince-Chapter 21 — Where Am I?

In the dream, Cynthia stood in a field of roses she had planted in the palace yard. Surprisingly, she was smiling—smiling at something or someone.

"What are you doing here?" a cold voice demanded, his dark hair blown by the gentle warm breeze of summer.

Her expression remained unchanged despite the sharpness of the voice questioning her.

"I’ve been waiting for you, Your Highness. I heard from the servants that you were out on an expedition for a while and would be returning today, so I came to welcome—"

"There is no need for that," Lucian interrupted, walking past her.

As always, he did not spare her a glance.

Mustering all her courage and pursing her lips, Cynthia managed to ask, "Do you hate me so much that you won’t even look at me?"

"Do we both not hate each other, Princess Cynthia?"

***

The sound of footsteps in the room caused Cynthia to slowly regain consciousness.

She blinked her eyes open.

An unfamiliar ceiling. The surroundings were oddly decorated, with merely a few pieces of furniture.

She glanced around but was unable to move much.

There was no one near her.

"Ah, never mind," she thought as she saw a woman walking beside her.

"You’ve regained consciousness! Let me inform the Grand Duke right away!" the woman said, rushing outside before Cynthia could speak.

She could barely make a sound. Her chest and throat were burning, and she couldn’t even lift her fingertips.

She scoffed inwardly. Why did she do this? She knew the consequences, so why?

Just to see Lucian panic like she had seen him before dying in her past life?

He wouldn’t care whether she lived or died!

Thank god, I took the antidote. Or else...

Cynthia chuckled.

I would have died. Again. For his sake.

***

Lucian slammed his palm on the desk when the quill he was writing with snapped. Ink spilled over the thin letters he wrote and the whole letter had turned messy.

"Your Highness, please keep your calm," Adrian spoke hesitantly. "I’ll get you a new one right away," he added, rushing outside the hall.

He couldn’t remain in that stifling room any longer, not with the suffocating air around the Grand Duke ever since the Grand Duchess had lost consciousness a week ago.

Once the door closed, Lucian tilted his head back, leaning against his chair.

"Why did she do that?"

That was the question that had plagued him ever since she collapsed in front of him.

"Did she know the food I was served contained poison? If so... why would she risk her life? Damn it!" Lucian slammed his fist against the desk again.

Not being able to ask her had only made him more impatient. It had been a week, and she still hadn’t regained consciousness.

When she collapsed before him, blood dripping from her mouth, her face turning pale, the horrific scenes of the battlefield had flashed through his mind. And among those flashbacks, one belonged to his mother who was lying on the ground in a pond of red blood.

He couldn’t move and his breath stopped.

Everyone around him was panicking, running to find a physician, but Lucian had been frozen, unable to do anything. No matter how much he willed it, his body refused to obey.

"Do you not care about her?" the Crown Prince had asked, observing Lucian’s lack of agitation despite having his wife lying on the ground senseless.

The dark-haired young man had finally risen from his seat, barely managing to pick up the silver-haired woman in his arms. Without much thought, he had carried her to his bedchamber.

"Your Highness! The Grand Duchess! She woke up!" the nurse Lucian had assigned rushed into his study, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Though he would normally have gotten angry to be disturbed, he didn’t this time. The moment he heard that Princess Cynthia had regained consciousness, nothing else mattered.

With a loud thud, he stood up from his chair and rushed towards his bedroom.

Finally, I can ask her. Why did she eat the poisoned food? Did she not know?...

The guards Lucian had appointed to ensure her safety stood firmly at the entrance.

"Your Highness!" they greeted him promptly, bowing.

"Open the door," Lucian ordered.

With a nod, the guard complied. As the large wooden door opened, the dark-haired man walked towards the figure lying on the bed, half-covered by blankets.

"Blankets in this weather?" Lucian wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"I... had... a fever," Cynthia whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she had heard his thoughts. "I think," she added.

Despite the sunlight streaming through the pulled-back curtains, Cynthia shivered, her body betraying the warmth of the room. Her feet and hands had turned icy, a stark contrast to the heat of the other parts of her body. Her face flushed red, a few sweat running down her pale skin.

"Sit," Cynthia gestured slightly, turning her face towards the chair beside the bed, where she assumed the nurse usually sat to care for her during her seizures from pain or fever.

Lucian did as told. For some reason, all the questions he had meant to ask her vanished.

"Are you... alright?" he managed to ask, though his body remained stiff.

"Yes," Cynthia replied simply. She believed that complaining about the aching pain in her body would be futile, as Lucian wouldn’t care. Rather, he might get angry and leave.

Although it was strange to admit, Cynthia wanted him to stay a little longer. In the past, she had craved his attention. But in this life, she no longer wished for that.

This will be the last time... after this, I will take my revenge on him, just as planned...

Cynthia reassured herself that it was due to the dream she had before waking up that she had been acting this way with him by her side.

It was her past—when she used to wait for her husband to return, hoping his cold heart would eventually soften toward her. Perhaps, one day, his hatred for her would vanish, and he would accept her as his wife—though that never happened, even until her very last breath.

A silence fell over the room, neither of them speaking for several minutes.

Finally, Cynthia parted her lips to ask, "How... how long have I been...?"

Lucian interrupted her, answering before she could finish.

"A week."

"Where am I?.."

"My room."

The room fell silent once more.

"You..." Lucian spoke, breaking the silence.

Cynthia, who was still in disbelief to hear she was in his bedroom, raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"Why did you do that?.. How did you know... there was poison?" Although he hesitantly asked, Lucian’s gaze filled with doubts intensified.

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