130: Pledge

Pledge

There was an old saying that when anger reaches a certain point, a person would become level-headed, like a calm before a storm. This was the first time Oriana realized the wisdom of that statement.  1

Her cool gaze tried to see through what kind of person her master was. He changed his behavior like a chameleon, and from the day she first met him, she had witnessed countless sides—no, maybe calling them masks would be more proper—of this royal prince bearing the name of Arlan Cromwell. 

She had seen him playful and childish, serious and scary, sociable and gentlemanly, reliable and intelligent, even perverted and seductive.

'Which was the real him?'

She felt like she would never be able to understand him. 

Satisfied by her reaction, Arlan moved back towards the table to refill his glass with wine. 

"Is it still difficult to process what you need to do?" she heard him say after he downed his second drink. 

A new mask. A normal mask.

Once again, she got that feeling that Arlan was no longer the man he was a few seconds ago—the man declaring she belonged to him—and wondered which side of him he would show now.

With slow steps, Oriana walked towards him until she was facing him. 

"Please put down the wine glass, Your Highness. Otherwise, how can I remove your shirt?"

Arlan had already washed up after he arrived from the central palace, and was simply clad in casual indoor clothes. He was only wearing a single white shirt and a pair of long black pants. 

Maybe because of her earlier anger, or perhaps due to her growing resentment against him, she no longer hesitated in removing his clothes. Her hands were steady as she unbuttoned his top and his sculpted upper body was presented in front of her eyes. 

With the same steady countenance, she removed his belt and pulled down his pants, leaving him in his undergarment—a pair of comfortable trousers called braies.

After removing his boots, she put on the night robe on his body, not daring to stare at him even once, but she could feel his gaze on her, following her every movement. 

Now that she had time to collect her thoughts, she was at least relieved that he didn't ask her to remove her clothes. It was a misunderstanding she could afford. After all, the consequences of her identity as a woman getting exposed would be horrendous.

"Do you have more orders, Your Highness?" She stepped away from him with her head still lowered. "If that is all, I shall excuse myself from your presence."

"Not yet."

She didn't dare raise her head, simply waiting for his next words.

"We are not done with your punishment yet."

After her anger outburst, Oriana was fatigued and drowsy. She wanted to get away from this man as soon as possible and enjoy the comforts of her bed. Though she felt exhausted, trusting he would never do anything immoral, she decided to obediently say, "I will accept your punishment, Your Highness."

"Very well." 

His tone was satisfied that his unruly and stubborn servant learned to submit. 

Oriana kept quiet as she watched the pair of bare feet move on the carpeted floor, seemingly walking in a circle around her. 

"Every night, you have to make sure I sleep without trouble."

"Your Highness?"

"That is your punishment."

'What kind of punishment is this?'

"From this night onwards, you will spend the night inside my chamber and look after me sleeping. If you see me having nightmares, all you have to do is hold my hand like how you did  at the Ahren Residence."

'Does he take himself as a baby and I am his appointed nanny? If I look after him the entire night, when will I sleep?'

"Understood?" she heard him ask and she nodded unwillingly. 

"Yes, Your Highness."

She watched him climb the large canopy bed in the center of the room. 

'Seems like no sleep for me from now on.'

"Are you going to stand there the entire night?" she heard him say which pulled her back to her senses and she went to the bedside. He lay on the mattress and he closed his eyes as she covered him with the blanket. 

After Oriana put out the fire burning from the oil lamps, she was about to draw the curtains close when Arlan stopped him.

"Let it be."

Arlan hated the darkness, but it was a secret only he himself knew. Even if the silvery light offered by the moon was dim, given his sharp senses, it was good enough that his room was not plunged in absolute darkness.

The young woman didn't know what to do next and merely stood at the foot of the bed. 

"You are not punished for standing the entire night," she heard him say after some time. 

Arlan didn't open his eyes but said, "Don't think about sleeping on my bed. Don't act like a fool and sleep on the floor as well. Get a chair for yourself."

She glared at him. 'Who wants to sleep on your bed? Even if you put a knife on my neck, I won't ever climb your bed, you pervert.'

She walked towards one of the chairs in the room and sat on it. 

'Such is the disparity between royalty and a peasant like me,' she sighed. 'Bear with it for a few days, Ori. Once you meet Master Cenric, you will never see this man again. I wonder who he will punish as his nanny next? Neil? Damien?'

While keeping an eye on him, her own eyes soon felt heavy and she ended up sleeping on the chair. 

In the middle of the night, her sleep was broken due to a familiar albeit muffled voice. She was immediately alerted knowing what it meant and went to Arlan's bed. 

'He is having a nightmare again. It's the same. He is calling for his mother too.' Oriana realized what he had told her and was about to hold his hand but stopped. 'I can't sit on the cold floor like last time. This pervert won't let go of my hand.'

She dragged the chair she used next to the bed. 

After padding it with cushions from other chairs, only after she felt satisfied to spend an entire night like this did she hold his hand in hers. It was as she expected. Arlan held her hand tightly, not intending to let it go. 

"...mother…" she heard him groan.

Feeling pity for him, she unwillingly moved her other hand and caressed his hand to console him. She looked at his anxious face which only calmed after she held his hand. 

'Does he experience nightmares often? It seems like a recurring bad dream. Maybe a memory? What could it be about, to trouble a man like him to give him nightmares every night?'

She shook her head. 'Pity? No need to feel pity towards this brat.' Her soft gaze turned into a glare as she thought, 'What did he say his name was just a while ago? Hmm, Arlan…in the old language, it means 'pledge' or 'oath'. Well, I will always keep this name in my mind. 

'Prince Arlan Cromwell, I make this pledge tonight: Look forward to the day when I make you regret playing with me like this.'

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