Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 787

Chapter 787: Swooning At The Princes

Aldric wore a mask, an intricate creation of dark metal and golden filigree, obscuring his face and adding an air of mystery and dread. His attire was equally imposing: a long, dark coat adorned with shimmering blue gems and elaborate designs, giving him a regal yet dangerous appearance.

And then, as if sensing her gaze, Aldric turned in Islinda’s direction. For a moment, the world ceased to exist. It was only the two of them—locked in a silent, electrifying connection that tugged at her very soul. Islinda’s breath caught in her throat as she felt that familiar pull, the same draw that had haunted her since last night. It was magnetic, irresistible, and all-consuming.

Aldric’s eyes, hidden behind the mask, seemed to darken with the same intensity. Her pulse quickened, her breathing shallow, the unspoken desire swirling between them.

But the moment shattered like fragile glass when a loud horn sounded, signaling the official start of the match. The anticipation in the arena reignited, and the tension that had held everyone captive broke into fervent energy.

Islinda blinked, the world snapping back into focus. Her connection to Aldric, though momentarily disrupted, still lingered like an electric current under her skin. She tore her gaze away, knowing that now was not the time to dwell on her feelings.

The death duel was about to begin.

The crowd’s roar reached a fever pitch as the arena began to transform into the battleground everyone had anticipated. The frost and snow Aldric had summoned moments ago vanished, leaving the wide space clear and primed for combat.

The arena guards busily set up different types of weapons, arranging them in accessible spots for the two combatants. As another set of guards led away Aldric and Valerie’s beasts, Islinda’s attention was captured by an unexpected sight.

Two women stepped into the center of the stage, lifting their arms toward the sky. Almost immediately, a thin, translucent energy shimmered into existence, spreading across the arena like a dome.

"Who are they, and what are they doing?" Islinda asked, her curiosity piqued.

As usual, Andre was quick to answer, leaning in slightly as he explained, "They’re witches. They’re casting a protective barrier over the arena to ensure none of the attacks spill into the audience."

"Oh." Islinda nodded thoughtfully, realizing how much sense it made. For a moment, she had wondered how the crowd would be protected from stray magic or an errant weapon strike, but clearly, they had thought of everything.

Andre gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his warm fingers covering her cold ones. "Don’t worry," he said softly, "you’re protected as long as you’re with me."

"Thank you." Islinda smiled, grateful for his presence. Having a friend like Andre at a time like this was a blessing she hadn’t anticipated.

But just as she settled back into her seat, she felt a distinct gaze on her. It prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Turning slightly, her eyes met Queen Victoria’s.

The Queen wasn’t just looking at her; she was staring directly at her hand, which Andre was still holding.

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