"Where is your coat?" Arlan asked.
She gulped. "I happened to misplace it somewhere, I guess."
"Why did you not tell them you are from the Palace of Thistle?"
She cleared her throat awkwardly as she could not tell him the entire truth. "I didn’t wish to trouble His Highness..."
"...and wished to get beheaded instead." He sighed in annoyance. "Such an idiot."
If she had told them who she works for, they would not have dared to raise a sword at her so easily and the matter would be brought to him to resolve. As a royal servant, only royalty could decide how to punish her.
"Next time you are in trouble, do not hide it. I won’t like it if my personal aide gets killed without my knowledge. My people are only allowed to die in two ways: first, of old age, and second, by my own hands the moment they betray me."
He sounded scary but protective as well. Oriana didn’t feel scared but felt gratitude towards him.
"Understood, Your Highness, and... thank you for saving me tonight."
Arlan didn’t reply and continued to walk towards the main entrance of the mansion.
As efficient servants, Neil and Damien were already waiting for their master’s return and had the carriage prepared. Once they spotted the prince and their missing colleague, they led the prince towards the carriages ready to take them back to the royal palace.
—-
"Welcome back, Your Highness!"
When they reached the front yard of the Palace of Thistle, Oriana was able to personally experience being on the receiving end of the warm greeting. The royal servants lined up in perfect symmetry to welcome their arrival was a sight to behold despite it being late into the night.
Of course, the greeting was meant for the prince alighting from his carriage, still, it was an impressive thing to see.
Roman, being the butler at the forefront of the line, could clearly see the grave expression on his master’s face and wondered what had happened to displease him.
The Crown Prince wordlessly walked towards the main doors, not even reacting to the welcome greeting from the servants. He looked serious and no one dared talk to him.
Roman pointedly glanced at the three attendants who accompanied Arlan on the ball. He first needed to attend to his master’s needs; he was sure to ask what happened in the Milton Residence at a more convenient time later.
Before leaving, he instructed the three. "Go to your rooms and freshen up."
Oriana had to follow Roman upstairs as her room was on the second floor, not within the servant quarters. While walking, Roman clearly noticed the handprint on her fair delicate cheek but said nothing.
Oriana went to her chamber while Roman went to Arlan’s.
The butler, along with other attendants, helped him change out of his formal clothes, but Arlan’s attention was somewhere else.
When he first entered that chamber back in the Milton Residence, Arlan already noticed that red mark on Oriana’s cheek.
It was as if his entire world turned red. The sudden influx of anger surprised even him, but he forcefully swallowed it at that time as taking her out of that situation was his top priority.
On their ride back to the palace, he overheard the conversation going on inside the second carriage, with Oriana recounting her experience to his other attendants. It appeared that not only was she slapped by Count Milton, she had also been kicked twice.
The audacity!
Arlan could never accept anyone daring to lay a finger on his possession, and tonight, his possession was even hit multiple times. The ones who caused it would dearly pay for this crime.
Once the attendants were dismissed, Arlan instructed his butler, "Roman, get a salve for bruises and bring it to Orian. Tell him to rest for the night."
"Yes, Your Highness," he replied but didn’t ask what happened. He knew his master’s mind was somewhere else.
—-
Meanwhile, in Oriana’s room, she had removed her clothes and was observing the bruises on her body in front of the large mirror.
She touched one bruise at the lower side of her torso. "Ouch! That hurts. If he had kicked a little harder, I would have ended up with one or two broken ribs."
However, since there were no broken bones and no internal injuries, they would heal on their own in less than a week. She consoled herself, "What an exciting night. Grandpa and Luke are both correct—nobles are indeed disgusting creatures. At least, I am fortunately alive. I really thought I would be a goner then...hmm, it should not affect my mobility. I will be fine once I apply ointment to this."
She changed back into her light brown attendant uniform. She was about to head to the servant quarters for the evening’s meal when there was a knock on the door.
"Mister Roman?"
The gentle-looking butler was standing there at the door with a wooden tray in hand. As Arlan only instructed him, Roman executed the order himself though Oriana was of lower status than him. He also got to know what happened at the Miltons through Neil and Damien.
"Here is an ointment for your injuries and a meal for you," he informed with a light smile.
"Thank you, Mister Roman, but I would have—"
"You do not need to work tonight. Rest and report back to work in the morning." He handed her over the tray and left.
Oriana pressed her lips into a thin line as she watched him leave. For some reason, she had a smile on her face as she closed the door.
When she opened the small round container, the rich scent of feverfew and mint caused the smile on her face to grow wider. There were ingredients she was unfamiliar with, but as a herbalist, she could tell it was a precious ointment.
’Best quality concoction!’
After applying the ointment to her injuries and finishing her meal, her exhausted body lay on the bed and she fell asleep in no time.