Chapter 371
Upon hearing Ferris’s reply, Arthur’s expression softened slightly, a hint of joy appearing in his eyes. But then his tone shifted as he said, “What if I refuse to show mercy?”
The candle flame flickered in the draft, casting Arthur’s shadow on the damp wall. The King’s tall figure loomed over Ferris, almost completely enveloping him. Ferris knelt at his feet, appearing respectful, yet inwardly filled with mockery.
He said, “If Your Majesty commands me to die, I have no choice but to obey. But I am unwilling. I will not die for someone like Lizzie…”
From above came Arthur’s low chuckle. Even though Ferris couldn’t see his face, he knew he was smiling smugly. He was laughing at Ferris, the obedient dog he had trained to heel. Laughing at the pleasure that power brought him.
But Arthur had forgotten, a mad dog would sometimes bite its owner.
Ferris clenched his fists slightly, fingertips digging into his palm, still wearing a mask of respect.
“Rise,” Arthur said with a faint smile, signaling for Ferris to stand. “I want you to handle something for me.”
Ferris bowed his head and said, “I’m all ears, Your Majesty.”
Arthur looked at him coldly and ordered, “I command you to eliminate Lizzie silently and without a trace.”
Ferris wasn’t the least bit surprised. With a respectful nod, he said, “As you command, Your Majesty.”
There was not a flicker of hesitation on his face. Arthur got the answer he wanted, as if a great weight had been lifted from him.
Arthur said curtly, “Very well. Gather yourself and be on your way.”
Ferris responded, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Arthur strode out of the prison in measured steps, a large contingent of guards escorting him.
When Ferris exited the cell, the jailer rushed up, respectfully handing him his garments. “Congratulations, Your Grace. Congratulations on your safe release.”
Such bootlicking was not uncommon. Ever since he had been made a prince, people like that had flocked around him. Ferris stretched out his arms, letting the jailer personally dress him. Once fully clothed, Ferris gave the jailer a faint smile. “Well done. You’ll be rewarded in due time.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The jailer beamed sycophantically.
With a faint, aloof smile tugging at his lips, Ferris strode off quickly. Before long, he rode to the Princess Mansion. Looking at the grand estate before him, he smiled smugly.
Then he dismounted and approached the gate. “Open the door,” he ordered the guards.
The guards hesitated upon seeing him.
Ferris’s face turned cold as he barked, “Fools! The King only forbade the princess from leaving, not me from entering. I am her consort. Naturally, I may enter her estate.”
Frightened, the guards no longer dared to block him and stepped aside. Ferris walked in confidently. The residence was now empty of all servants. He encountered no resistance as he made his way to Lizzie’s courtyard.
Before even getting close, he heard shouting and the sound of things being smashed. “Athena, you bitch! I curse you! May you die a miserable death! You ruined me! One day, I’ll have you hacked to pieces!”
Ceramics flew out of the room and shattered all over the courtyard. It was chaos. Ferris swept a cold glance over the mess, kicked aside the fragments at his feet, and stepped inside.
“Get out! Get out!” Lizzie’s hair was disheveled. She was about to throw another vase when she froze. She stared at Ferris in disbelief, as though seeing a ghost.
For two days, no one had entered or spoken to her. No one served her food, dressed her, or even acknowledged her. The food that had been brought in was disgusting. She’d thrown it all out. Starving and furious, she had raged alone for days. And now, Ferris had walked in, carrying a meal. She felt as if she were still dreaming.
“You must be hungry.” Ferris placed the food box on the table and took out four dishes: roast leg of lamb with rosemary, buttered asparagus with hollandaise, wild mushroom risotto, and apple tart with vanilla cream.
These were all Lizzie’s favorite dishes.
Lizzie stared at him, dazed. After a long pause, she asked, “How did you get in?”
She had known from the start. Being confined to the estate meant she was meant to wither away and die. This was a slow execution by Arthur. And yet Ferris had waltzed in, bringing her beloved food. Even she, as naive as she was, could guess part of his intentions.
Ferris’s face remained impassive. “Talk,” he said, handing her a fork, motioning for her to eat.
Lizzie recoiled as though burned, flinging the fork away. She looked at him as if he were the devil himself. “I won’t eat it! You poisoned it! I know you did!”
Seeing her fear, Ferris’s lips curved faintly. He calmly picked up the fork and sampled every dish, one by one. He tried each of the four.
Lizzie looked at him, full of suspicion. Then cautiously, hesitantly, she started to eat.
The food was delicious. It was so good that she wondered whether she’d wasted her life up till now. She devoured almost everything on the table. Looking at the empty plates, she licked her lips, but soon resumed her haughty demeanor.
Lizzie threw the fork down and asked, “Alright, what do you want?”
“What could I want?” Ferris replied coolly. “Only to honor the bond of husband and wife.” He gathered the dishes back into the food box and stood to leave.
Lizzie panicked. “Wait! Stop!”
Ferris’s behavior was too strange, his intentions unreadable.
Lizzie thought in panic, ‘If he’s here to kill me, why isn’t he doing it now?’
Ferris simply brought her a meal, then turned and left without another word.
“Wait! I said stop!” Perhaps because she hadn’t seen anyone in so long, she chased after him desperately. At the doorway, the guards stopped her, shoving her back violently. The doors closed, and Ferris’s figure vanished from sight. Lizzie screamed after him, “Ferris, come back! I order you to come back!”
But the Princess Mansion was deathly silent. Not a soul replied. She sat on the cold stone floor, waiting and waiting. She waited as darkness fell, and kept waiting until dawn.
Finally, at the same hour the next day, Ferris came again. He brought the same four dishes. After she finished eating, he left once more.
Lizzie fell into a torturous cycle. Her days had only one purpose, waiting for Ferris’s return.
But after a few more days, he stopped coming.
Lizzie went mad. She scoured the estate for him. Her mind frayed. She was no longer the same.
That night, a violent storm struck. Startled awake by a thunderclap, Lizzie glimpsed a shadow flickering at her window.
“Who’s there? Who’s out there?” Lizzie whimpered, shrinking into the corner of her bed, her eyes wide with terror.
The door burst open, blown by the wind. A blood-covered figure stood in the doorway.
With a piercing scream, Lizzie clapped her hands over her head and scrambled madly out of the room, wailing, “Don’t come for me! Don’t come for me! It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!”