The Villain's Dead Wife

24. Secrets of Pure Witch

I sighed and turned my eyes away from him. "So, what brings you here, your royal highness?"

“Last time I came here, you threw a fit of tears, so I couldn’t tell you what I came for. But today, I think I should,” Kairan said, looking like he was about to drop some serious knowledge.

“Great. What is it?” I crossed my arms, clearly uninterested in this lineage business.

Kairan took a deep breath, as if preparing to explain quantum physics to a toddler. He started walking toward me, and I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, which was not exactly my favorite position.

I backed up slightly, but he grabbed my shoulders—firmly but not painfully—and guided me to sit on the bed. He then took a seat on the chaise, looking like he was about to lecture a very unruly student.

“Lady Meredia, the original owner of this body is a pure witch.”

That news hit me like a truck on a deserted highway—no warning, no horn.

I frowned, the most confused look plastered on my face. “Huh? What? Witches exist?”

Kairan nodded, as if this was common knowledge. “Yes, they do. In fact, they were the ones who brought magic into this world.”

My eyes practically sparkled brighter than the moon tonight. “Oh my god! A witch! Can they send people to the other side full of supernatural beings like vampires, wolves, hybrids?”

Kairan’s face was a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “No.”

I gasped, “OMG! Can they chant spells? Like ‘Azarath Metrion Zinthos’?” I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

Kairan’s patience was hanging by a thread.

He sighed again, his tone now dripping with frustration. “Whatever that was you said, no, they don’t do that.”

“So what do they do? Can they fly on a broom?” I asked, my excitement unabated.

Kairan’s gaze could have burned through steel. He was glaring at me like I had just asked if unicorns were real. “You should be asking what ‘pure witch’ means instead of these ridiculous questions,” he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

I nodded enthusiastically. “Right, right! What does it mean? A ‘virgin’ witch?”

Kairan’s frustration was now palpable. He clenched his jaw so tightly I thought he might crack his teeth.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “Pure witches are born of incest,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly at his wit's end.

I frowned. “Huh? Incest? What the hell? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kairan, clearly fed up, ignored my question and continued, “Meredia is born of that, and that’s why she is a pure witch. To keep the bloodline pure and also to ensure the magic remains powerful through the lineage, witches tend to marry each other.”

“Does... Does... That mean... Duke Oberon and Duchess Elowen—” I began, but he cut me off.

“No, they are not related to each other by blood,” he said, sounding like he’d answered this question a million times before.

“Then how is Meredia a pure witch?”

Kairan took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for more of my bewildering reactions. “Because Meredia is not the real daughter of Duchess Elowen and Duke Oberon.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, so who is she really?”

Kairan’s frustration was palpable. “That’s a whole other story involving hidden identities and family secrets, but for now, just understand that her purity comes from a different lineage altogether. And yes, it’s as complicated as it sounds.”

“Tell me more—” I started, eager for answers.

Kairan stood up abruptly, running a frustrated hand through his hair as if trying to pull his thoughts together. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in exasperation.

“No. I need to get out of here or I’ll really slice you in half,” he said, his voice a mix of irritation and barely contained anger.

With that, he made a swift, decisive movement, his hand slicing through the air as if cutting away the problem. In an instant, he and Shadow vanished, leaving me alone, confused, and wide awake.

I blinked at the spot where Kairan and Shadow had been standing, still trying to process the whirlwind of information—and his dramatic exit.

“Seriously? He vanishes like a magic trick when things get too real?” I muttered to myself. “What is he—Houdini in a royal disguise?”

I glanced around my room, half expecting Kairan to reappear with a top hat and a smug grin. Nope, just me and the awkward silence.

I rubbed my temples, still absorbing the shock of learning that my dear old Duchess and Duke weren't exactly the biological parents of Meredia. The plot twists were stacking up like a soap opera marathon.

“Well,” I sighed, “at least now I have a royal pain-in-the-ass who can teleport away to avoid answering questions. That’s something.”

With a yawn, I flopped back onto the bed. “I guess I'll have to deal with this royal drama in the morning. For now, it’s back to my nightly routine of trying not to think about anything.”

As I settled in, I chuckled to myself. “One thing’s for sure: my life is definitely not boring.”

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The next day, I pushed through the discomfort and got ready for training, determined not to let anything slow me down.

I wore a crisp white blouse with the sleeves rolled up, cinched at the waist with a black corset belt, and paired with high-waisted, tailored black pants. Black fingerless gloves completed the look, adding a touch of practicality to the sleek and elegant outfit. My hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, keeping it out of my face but still looking sharp.

“How do I look, Lisa?” I asked, giving myself one last glance in the mirror.

Lisa, standing behind me in a beautiful lavender gown that brought out the gentle glow of the half-moon pendant she always wore, smiled warmly. The pendant was her constant companion, probably a cherished gift from Ancillin.

“You look so pretty, my lady,” she said, her eyes shining with genuine admiration.

I smirked, adjusting the gloves one last time. “Pretty enough to kick some royal butt?”

Lisa giggled, nodding. “Absolutely. Though I don’t think anyone’s going to be paying attention to how well you fight.”

“Good,” I said, with a wink. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

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I waited as I watched a young soldier, probably around my age, march up to Kirill with all the energy and determination of someone who hadn't yet experienced the joy of being utterly defeated. Fast forward a few minutes, and he was lying on the ground like a lifeless rag doll, his spirit clearly having left the building.

The pile of young soldiers lying around kept growing like a tragic game of Jenga, but Kirill wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, casually twirled his sword in the air, and got ready for the next unfortunate soul who dared to step forward.

But Kairan? Nowhere to be found.

Typical. Here I am, all dressed up and ready for sword-fighting and some awkward family history, and Mr. "I'll Slice You in Half" is a no-show. I mean, who wouldn't want to discuss the joys of family incest on a beautiful morning like this?