Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 795

Chapter 795: Royal Coward

Aldric’s mind stirred back to consciousness, a dull ache throbbing at the base of his skull. His eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, his vision was blurred, the world around him swimming in a haze. He was lying on the hard, stone floor of a cell, the air around him damp and musty, and he slowly became aware of the heavy weight encircling his wrists.

Aldric glanced down, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the cuffs binding his hands. He gave an instinctive tug, the muscles in his arms flexing as he attempted to break free. The chains rattled, but the cuffs held firm.

A faint, bitter laugh escaped his lips knowing these weren’t ordinary restraints. He could feel the telltale hum of magic, the subtle buzz that indicated these were crafted specifically to contain him. His power.

The metal was engraved with runes designed to neutralize his abilities. Aldric stopped struggling, letting out a slow breath. He was familiar with these situation, with this sensation of powerlessness.

It wasn’t the first time he had found himself restrained like this, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. After what had happened in the arena, he had expected as much.

Aldric tilted his head back against the wall, his gaze unfocused as the memories of the arena flooded back. The blood, the screams, the fury that had consumed him when Islinda was attacked—he could still feel the remnants of that rage simmering beneath the surface, though now it was tempered by a cold, grim satisfaction. He had done what he needed to do. Revenge had been exacted, and for that, he had no regrets.

He had seen this coming. He knew they would come for him after the carnage.

They always did when he lost control.

Now he would gladly take the punishment. Nor did he regret his actions one bit. If given a chance again, Aldric knew he would do it over again.

Aldric made no further attempt to escape. He had learned long ago that resistance was futile. So instead, he remained still, conserving his energy, waiting for what he knew was inevitable. Someone would come to see him. They always did.

And as if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder as they approached. Aldric’s eyes snapped open, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him. The footsteps paused for a moment, then the heavy iron door creaked open.

A guard stepped into the room, but it was to let in someone else—a much more powerful figure, judging by the way the temperature in the room dropped instantly. Aldric felt it first, a chill creeping down his spine as the air seemed to freeze.

The figure stepped into the light, and Aldric’s gaze sharpened as he took in the sight of his visitor. It was King Oberon, his father.

That was unexpected. Aldric had been prepared for an encounter with Queen Maeve, who was undoubtedly behind what happened tonight. But to see his father here, in this cold cell, was surprising.

"Leave us," King Oberon commanded, his voice so frigid it felt like the very air around him obeyed.

Without a word, the guards all bowed in unison and exited the cell, leaving the Winter King alone with his son.

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