Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 288 - Two Hundred And Eighty Seven

"Dahlia," Liam gasped, his voice cracking.

The name hung in the air, breathless and terrified, a single word that shattered the last vestiges of his arrogance.

He rushed to cover himself. He scrambled backward on the bed, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, the lingering effects of the drug making his limbs heavy. He grabbed a silk pillow, clutching it to his chest like a shield. He grabbed the tangled sheet, pulling it frantically over his legs.

He looked pathetic. The Crown Prince, the man who aspired to rule the kingdom, the man who had plotted wars and assassinations, was reduced to a naked, shivering boy caught in a lie.

Behind Dahlia, in the hallway, Marissa and Lady Edwina reacted instantly.

"Oh my heavens!" Edwina cried out, her hand flying to her mouth, turning her back to the door in a flutter of silk. She was genuinely shocked, her aristocratic sensibilities overwhelmed.

"Your Highness!" Marissa gasped. She raised her gloved hands to cover her eyes, shielding her face from the scene. "I... I cannot look! This is... this is improper!"

Marissa turned away, grabbing Edwina’s arm to steady herself.

"We must not look at the nakedness of the Crown," Marissa whispered loudly, her voice trembling with feigned propriety. "It is a sin against the royal dignity. We must go."

But even as she covered her eyes, even as she turned her head, Marissa’s lips quirked upward in the shadows. A small, hidden smile of pure, vindictive satisfaction. She didn’t need to see. She could hear the panic in Liam’s voice. She could smell the fear coming off Ashlyn like a wave. It was sweeter than any perfume she had ever worn.

Inside the room, Liam struggled to get off the bed. He managed to wrap the silk sheet around his waist, tying it clumsily in a knot that threatened to slip. He almost tripped over the pile of Ashlyn’s clothes on the floor—the blue dress, the petticoats, the corset—a trail of evidence leading straight to his guilt.

He stood up, trying to regain some shred of dignity. He puffed out his chest, though his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He tried to summon the voice of the Prince.

"What are you doing here?" Liam demanded. His voice was loud, too loud, trying to cover his fear with bluster. "Who gave you permission to enter my private room? Who told you I was here? I left orders not to be disturbed!"

He looked wild. His hair was messy, sticking up in tufts. His eyes were bloodshot from the drug and the shock. He looked like a madman.

Dahlia didn’t answer him. She didn’t even look at him. To her, he was a ghost, a disappointment she had already processed.

Her gaze was fixed on the bed.

Ashlyn was still there. She had pulled the duvet up to her chin, hiding her body, but she couldn’t hide her face. She was shaking violently, the bed frame rattling with her tremors. Her face was pale, drained of all color, her eyes wide with a terror that bordered on madness.

She realized suddenly that she was not the hunter anymore. She wasn’t the clever schemer who had outsmarted her sister. She wasn’t the powerful mistress of the future King. She was prey. She was a rabbit caught in the open by a hawk.

Ashlyn scrambled off the bed. She couldn’t stay there under Dahlia’s gaze. It felt like being burned by the sun.

She grabbed her undergarments from the floor, clutching them to her chest in a pathetic attempt at modesty. She fell to her knees on the thick rug.

"Your Highness," Ashlyn whispered. Her voice was barely audible, a squeak of fear.

She lowered her head until her forehead almost touched the floor. She made herself small. She curled into a ball of shame, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"Your Highness, please..." Ashlyn sobbed.

Liam looked at Dahlia. He saw the cold fury in his wife’s eyes. He saw the way her hands were clenched at her sides. He knew he was in trouble. Deep trouble. He needed a scapegoat. He needed to deflect the anger away from himself, to preserve his own skin at any cost.

He looked down at Ashlyn.

His face twisted with disgust. The lust he had felt moments ago, the desire that had driven him to madness, was gone. It was replaced by a cold, reptilian self-preservation.

Liam pointed a shaking finger at Ashlyn.

"It’s all this whore’s fault!" Liam shouted, his voice ringing in the small room.

Ashlyn flinched as if he had hit her. She looked up, shocked.

"Your Highness?" she whispered, betrayal flooding her eyes.

"She seduced me!" Liam lied, his voice rising in pitch, becoming hysterical. "I came here for business! I came here to meet... to meet an informant about the treasonous man who is hiding in Strathmore! And she was here! She was waiting for me! She threw herself at me! She drugged the wine!"

He kicked the empty wine bottle across the floor. It spun and hit the wall with a clatter.

"Look at her!" Liam yelled, gesturing wildly. "She is a temptress! She forced herself on me! She took advantage of my... my kindness! I am the victim here, Dahlia! You have to believe me!"

Ashlyn stared at him. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. The man who had whispered promises in her ear, the man who had said she was better than Marissa, the man who had offered her the world... was now throwing her to the wolves to save his own skin. He was sacrificing her without a second thought.

She looked at Dahlia.

Dahlia was looking down at her. The Princess’s face was like stone. There was no pity in her eyes. There was no sympathy. There was only judgment. Cold hard judgement.

Ashlyn began to shake harder. A deep, primal fear took root in her stomach.

She knew who Dahlia was. Everyone in Eudora knows.