337: Mean, But In A Good Way

Mean, But In A Good Way

Oriana's eyes flew open and found Arlan's face leaning close to her, half-kneeling on the bed, his hands holding on her pants hovering above her thighs, and their intimate position caused another explosion of heat to cause her face to be as red as ripe tomato. But surprisingly, she didn't panic—or rather, showed no outward signs of it.2

"Alright." 

Oriana was about to put her hands on the bed to support her body when Arlan's next words made her pause.

"Hold on to me," he said, his other hand supporting the small of her back. As soon as she placed her hands on his shoulders, he hoisted her up. She felt the fabric of the pants swiftly, almost effortlessly sliding under her. The entire time, his gaze was fixed on her face, more precisely her eyes. 

Arlan slowly and gently put her down on the bed, and his hands moved to button her pants. He then moved away, putting away the items scattered on the bed.

The moment he had his back to her, Arlan's indifferent expression crumbled. There was relief and a sense of accomplishment, as if he did the most difficult task at the nick of time. It was easier to be on the battlefield and deal with enemies rather than in this room and deal with a single woman. 

At this moment, it was as if each of his nerves were stretched taut, his mental strength spent. The most difficult challenge for him was not ensuring her injuries were properly tended to, but in maintaining a proper boundary, to finish the task without doing anything inappropriate. The effort he placed in the past half an hour was ten times more than him planning to intrude an  enemy's territory.

"Thank you, Your Highness," she said after some time, prompting him to regain his composure.

In Arlan's opinion, his mate didn't have to say 'thank you' for the bare minimum. 

"You dirtied the bed," was all he said before moving to lift Oriana. He settled her on the chair and removed the soiled bedsheet. Once replaced, he carried her back to the bed. 

Awkward silence enveloped the room. 

"I will have Neil bring food," he spoke and left the room, giving her time and space to be alone. 

Arlan instructed Neil to bring Oriana a warm meal, before asking  Imbert about the situation of their group and the rest of the delegation. Inside the room, Oriana could faintly hear Arlan's voice. 

With her embarrassment gone, she recalled everything he did for her, and a light smile painted on her lips. 

'Mean, but in a good way.'

By the time Neil brought porridge for Oriana, Arlan discovered that Oriana had fallen asleep. The prince sent his attendant back, and ordered that they rest, even Imbert who insisted to stand guard outside the room. Not only the horses, but everyone went on an overnight journey to hurry to this village. Arlan prioritized Oriana, but that didn't mean he did not care for his people.

After having a simple meal of bread and dried jerky, their group rested in their own rooms. As for Arlan, no one knew where he went.

About an hour past noon, Neil brought a meal for Oriana. He knocked on the door and was about to enter the room when someone stopped him. 

"Give that to me."

Neil turned around and bowed to the blue-eyed man who appeared fresh from a bath, casually clad in an unadorned white shirt and black pants. "Your Highness, Orian missed his morning meal and he probably won't be able to eat by himself, so I was—"

"I will take care of it," Arlan interrupted him.

"Then, I will carry it inside," Neil said as it was his duty and he could not let the prince carry the food for another servant. 

"No need," Arlan said and raised an upturned hand, gesturing for him to hand over the tray.

Neil tactfully obeyed. He watched Arlan open the door, enter inside and close the door again. Neil quietly shook his head and left. 

Arlan would not let Neil or anyone else enter his room, not when Oriana was not wearing her chest bind. It was not only a matter of keeping her secret, but the mere thought of others seeing her like this, her femininity and vulnerability exposed to other's eyes, was particularly irksome.

When he entered the room, Oriana was still sleeping. Her face was pale, but her expression was peaceful, unlike when he held her inside the carriage. She was sleeping on her right side, as it was more painful to sleep on her back due to her injuries.

He was tempted to let her continue sleeping, but she had already missed one meal. He needed to wake her up so she could eat and regain some strength. 

He put the tray on the table before approaching the bed, crouching to wake her up.

"Oriana, wake up," he said in a somewhat low voice. As they were lodging in an ordinary inn, the walls were thin and people outside could hear loud voices. "Oriana."

Her brows creased upon hearing the prince calling her Oriana. She tentatively opened her eyes, blinking back sleep. 

Arlan's voice continued, "You need to have a meal. Get up."

She stared at the blue-eyed man in a daze, questioning if she misheard him calling her name, or if she was still somewhat within a dream. 

However, when Arlan helped her sit up, she was shocked awake by the pain coursing through her body. It felt twice, no, thrice worse than when that count from Karlin kicked her to avenge his pig of a son. 

Oriana let out a hiss as Arlan thoughtfully arranged pillows behind her. She was still wincing when he put the tray in front of her, but the aroma of meat and porridge allowed her to withstand the pain. 

The grumbling of her stomach distracted her from everything else. She was absolutely starving. The last time she ate was before the bandits attacked the night prior. Oriana forgot about hearing Arlan call her by name and her uninjured left hand moved to grab the spoon.

"Ugh." A groan left her mouth as abruptly moving her arm caused pain in her left shoulder. "Damn it!"

She did not even realize she cursed out loud. She raised her left arm once more, slower this time, but someone else beat her to it.

"Your Highness?"

His pair of ocean blue eyes stared straight into her hazel eyes, holding the spoon in front of her mouth.

"Eat fast and stop wasting my time."

Oriana, who was about to refuse, swallowed her words and quietly opened her mouth when he raised the spoon in front of her. The porridge tasted delicious, and it was neither too hot nor watery, with bits of meat and vegetables intermixed. It probably tasted better because a handsome man was spoonfeeding her. 

She continued to swallow spoonful after spoonful as Arlan didn't stop feeding her until she finished the entire bowl. 

"Do you need more?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It was more than enough. Thank you."

Arlan offered her water, helped her lie down in bed and left the room carrying the empty bowl and the used utensil in a tray as if he was doing one of his daily routines. As Oriana watched his retreating back, a surge of emotions crept in her heart. 

No one other than her grandpa had shown such meticulous care for her. Given her identity prior to working in the palace, it was always her taking care of others, not the other way around. For fevers and small injuries, she would even sometimes hide them from Phil, dealing with them herself before sleeping the pain away.

To think that a royal prince would show genuine concern for his servant. She didn't know what to think or feel about it. 

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