Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 688

Chapter 688: Hope In The Dungeon

"Move it!" Islinda stumbled over her feet as the guard shoved her forward, causing her to nearly fall. She turned back to glare at him, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"What are you staring back at, murderer?" the guard sneered, clearly infuriated by her unyielding gaze. There was not an ounce of remorse in her eyes after killing Lord Karle, and it only fueled his anger further.

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson," he growled, lifting his hand to strike her.

Just as his hand began its descent, another guard grabbed his wrist, halting the blow. "Enough!" the second guard commanded, his voice stern.

He stared at the other guard who had just halted him, his anger still simmering. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The second guard ignored the question, responding instead, "We are instructed to take her to the dungeon, not to take the law into our own hands."

But the first guard wasn’t listening. Drunk on power, he towered over the second guard, his eyes blazing. "Do you dare to tell me how to do my job?" he snarled.

Despite the precariousness of the situation, the second guard remained calm. "She is a weak human. One careless move and you could kill her. Do you really want that in your hands?"

"Wrong! The whole realm would be happy if I ended the wench who killed their lord," the first guard retorted, his voice rising with each word.

"She’s Prince Aldric’s prisoner," the second guard interjected, his tone firm and unyielding. "You think the dark Fae prince is interested in your honor practice? Why don’t you lay a hand on her again and find out?"

The first guard’s jaw worked furiously, his gaze flickering between Islinda and the second guard, conflict evident in his eyes. He was torn between his rage and the harsh reality of the consequences laid out before him.

The second guard stepped closer, daring him to hit Islinda again. "Go ahead," he challenged. "See how well that ends for you."

The first guard’s fists clenched and unclenched, his breathing heavy. Finally, he spat on the ground in frustration, turning away from Islinda. "This isn’t over," he muttered darkly.

Islinda snickered inwardly, allowing herself a small, triumphant smirk.

"Move along," the second guard said to Islinda, his tone a lot softer than the other grumpy Fae. Maybe they could be friends, not that Islinda planned to stay here for long. She had her own plans.

Her hands were bound as soon as Elena and her pack of easily deceived high Fae declared judgment on her. However, breaking out of it should not be a problem. As long as her strength does not fail her.

She nodded and resumed walking, her steps steady despite the tension radiating through her. As they continued down the corridor, the first guard gave her an unnerving look, both of their gazes momentarily meeting before breaking apart. Islinda drew a deep breath, making a mental note to be wary around that one — she could see the killing intent in his eyes.

They reached the entrance to the dungeon, and Islinda swallowed at the sight of the heavy door looming over her. How was she going to break out of this?

The first guard shoved it open, his movements rough and impatient. "Get in," he barked, still seething.

Islinda stepped into the dimly lit dungeon, glancing back at the second guard, who gave her a small, reassuring nod. She straightened, shaking off the fear, and continued to walk forward, her head held high.

The air grew colder and more oppressive with each step, the faint light from the torches casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls. The stench of mildew and decay assaulted her senses, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

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