Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 602

Chapter 602: To Welcome A Prince

"Hello, Uncle," Aldric greeted, a fiendish smirk playing across his features as he tilted his head, studying his mother’s brother. Her illegitimate brother—the one flaw that prevented the Fae from asserting his permanent claim to the Winter throne.

Mindful of bloodlines, the Fae held strict adherence to lineage, a fact that played to Aldric’s advantage. Unlike in Astaria, where his rightful claim to the throne as the strongest heir was deliberately denied, Aldric knew he was the rightful heir to the Winter Court, regardless of his dark Fae heritage.

Karle on the other hand, was born of the father’s affair with a maid, rendering him a mere half-blooded Fae and ineligible for full royal status.

The only means for Aldric to be displaced from his rightful position would be if his uncle dared to challenge him for the throne and emerged victorious—an outcome that existed only in Karle’s fantasies—or if Aldric met an untimely demise. Aldric had no heirs. Nor does he intend to. At least for now.

Aldric wouldn’t wish his unfortunate fate on his child. Perhaps if his visions of conquering Astaria were to come to fruition, certainly he would want a strong heir to continue his legacy. But if he were to fail. He would save the child the trouble.

"Aldric..." His uncle’s voice faltered, the shock evident as he stumbled backwards, collapsing to the ground in a rather dramatic fashion, if Aldric dared to add. It was almost amusing to watch, considering his uncle’s earlier arrogance and bravado.

Yet, it wasn’t just his uncle who reacted to Aldric’s presence. The atmosphere itself seemed to undergo a transformation, the once-welcoming aura replaced by palpable fear etched across the faces of the Faeries who had previously greeted him with open arms. Even his uncle’s soldiers, though they took a step back, tightened their grips on their weapons, their reaction driven more by fear and the instinct to preserve their own lives than any sense of courage.

Aldric couldn’t deny the sting of disappointment that lingered in his eyes as he observed his people’s fearful reaction—the very same people for whom he had sacrificed all his resources. He had hoped that by hiding his true identity and forging intimate connections, they wouldn’t recoil in horror upon discovering the truth. Alas, his efforts had been in vain, leaving him disillusioned.

Aldric would have given up this meager position, considering he had a grander ambition, but he understood the significance of power —even one as small as this. It was the reason his uncle now cowered before him in fear, and the reason these feeble soldiers refrained from attacking him—they recognized his absolute authority. Power held the key to shaping the world, and Aldric harbored ambitions to revolutionize the Fae realm. He needed power to achieve his goals.

"What’s wrong uncle? Didn’t you ask for me and I did what you wanted. I came. " he taunted, relishing the sight of color draining from his uncle’s face. It was a small satisfaction, but one that Aldric savored nonetheless.

Aldric’s lips curled into a sly smile as he continued to play his hand.

"Ah, yes," he remarked deliberately, "I couldn’t help but overhear you question who would dare to offer aid to these peasants without seeking the approval of the Winter Court’s high lord." He feigned confusion, stroking his chin in mock contemplation. "It’s quite perplexing, considering the last time I checked, I held the esteemed title of High Lord of the Winter Court..." His gaze sharpened, a hint of menace lacing his words as he leveled an accusing glare at his uncle. "Are you suggesting a challenge for the throne, dearest uncle?"

"Of course not, A—Aldric, no, Prince Aldric!" Karle hastily interjected, stumbling over his words in his desperation to appease his nephew. Before anyone could intervene, he found himself prostrating before Aldric. "Welcome home, Your Highness."

With his forehead pressed to the cold, unforgiving snow, Karle stole a glance from the corner of his eye and was met with a sight that nearly stopped his heart. His soldiers still stood, their refusal to follow his lead sending a surge of panic coursing through him. What were they thinking? Why were they hesitating? What if Aldric misinterpreted their reluctance as defiance, an act of rebellion against his authority? The mere thought sent a shiver down Karle’s spine – they were going to get him killed.

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