Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 847

Chapter 847: Demon called Aldric

Aldric watched as recognition dawned on Queen Maeve’s face, the horrifying realization that he knew the truth, the secret she had kept buried for so long.

For a moment, the room was deathly still, as if time itself paused to mark the weight of her fear.

Then Aldric’s malevolent grin spread wider, a twisted expression that made him look not like a mere Fae prince, but something far darker, a vengeful angel, ready to deliver judgment.

His smile was chilling.

Where others would have been consumed by rage, their faces twisted in fury, Aldric smiled through it all. He smiled through pain, through anger, through hatred.

Through the betrayal.

And now, he smiled in a way that made Maeve’s blood run cold. His expression was one of pure, unfiltered madness, the kind that told her he was beyond reason. She had known Aldric for centuries, but this—this terrifying creature before her—was something else entirely. frёeωebɳovel.com

For the first time in what felt like eons, Queen Maeve felt a real, deep fear. It clawed at her insides, tightening around her heart.

She tried to speak, her voice trembling as she attempted to placate him. "Aldric, it’s not what you’re thinking. I can explain—"

But Aldric wasn’t in the mood to listen. With a casual flick of his hand, his shadows surged forward like a tidal wave, slamming into Maeve with brutal force.

She was hurled backward, her body crashing into the stone wall behind her. Pain exploded through her skull as she struck the hard surface, her vision swimming with stars.

She barely had time to recover before Aldric was upon her, closing the distance with terrifying speed. His voice was low and dangerous, rumbling with fury. "Explain?" he snarled, his tone venomous. "Explain, my mother’s death?"

The words hit Maeve like a physical blow. She knew now there would be no reasoning with him, no placating his rage. Aldric’s anger was raw, unchecked, and utterly justified. He had discovered her part in his mother’s demise, and nothing she said would soothe that wound.

Panic seized her. She had to fight. If she didn’t, he would kill her—she was sure of it.

As Aldric approached, Maeve scrambled away, her hands slipping on the cold stone floor. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed herself up, summoning every ounce of her power. With a cry of desperation, she hurled a stream of fire toward him, the flames roaring to life, consuming the air around them in searing heat.

It was a fierce, desperate attack, and Maeve put everything she had into it. She grunted with the effort, her muscles straining as she poured more and more magic into the flames. The air crackled with energy, the heat intense enough to scorch the stone floor beneath her feet.

But Aldric was unfazed. His shadows wrapped around him, forming a protective barrier, deflecting the flames with ease.

He advanced through the blaze, his body moving slowly, methodically, as if her attacks were little more than a minor inconvenience. With every step he took, the distance between them closed, and Maeve could feel herself weakening, her energy draining.

She was losing.

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