Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 914

Chapter 914: Not Your Family

And not just that, there were the countless lives Islinda had taken during the ongoing war to protect the Fae realm. Each kill had been justified—or so she told herself—but those deaths weren’t her family. They weren’t people she had grown up with, shared blood with.

But this? Killing one’s own brothers, the women who had raised them, all for power? She couldn’t reconcile it. She hated this "only the strongest rules" nonsense that seemed ingrained in creatures like the wraiths and Fae.

"Why marry so many wives knowing it would only end in chaos?"She asked with anger. "Why did your father put them through such a fate?"

Zal’therak’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. "Perhaps you are right, Islinda. My father was a fool, as were his fathers before him. But this is our way, and I will not apologize for doing what I had to do to survive. My mother needed me, and I needed to protect her. The rest... they would have destroyed us if I hadn’t struck first."

His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, a shadow of pain, perhaps regret, though it was buried too deep for Islinda to be sure. She met his gaze and realized she had no response. For all her judgments, she couldn’t deny that she might have done the same if she had been in his place.

Still, the thought unsettled her, and she looked away, her hands clenching tightly in her lap. "I don’t think I’ll ever understand your ways," she admitted.

"And I don’t expect you to," Zal’therak said, his voice gentler now. "But perhaps, in time, you will come to see that survival sometimes demands choices we never wish to make."

The atmosphere in the room shifted entirely. Their light-hearted conversation dissipated, leaving a heavy awkwardness in its place. Islinda sat quietly, gathering her thoughts before summoning the courage to address the elephant in the room.

"Why haven’t you brought up the war?" she asked finally, curiosity in her tone. "Instead, we’re here chatting away like we’re old friends."

Zal’therak met her gaze. "Exactly. That’s the point," he said pointedly. "I told you I don’t trust easily, but you keep on winning me over, Islinda Grace Remington." His piercing eyes locked onto hers as if he were trying to see straight into her soul.

Islinda blinked, caught off guard. She didn’t know how to feel about that. While the sentiment carried a faint note of flattery, the subtext was clear: he didn’t trust her completely, just as she didn’t trust him. They were dancing on a razor’s edge, neither willing to fully extend their hand.

Zal’therak leaned back slightly, his demeanor shifting to something more casual yet no less intense. "We’ll talk politics tomorrow. For now, I want to know the person I may entrust with the safety of my people." A faint smirk crossed his lips as he added, "Besides, I wanted to introduce you to my mother."

Before Islinda could respond, the heavy wooden door creaked open. A figure stepped into the room. Islinda turned her head and froze as her eyes landed on the newcomer.

The woman who entered was stunning, with silky dark hair cascading over her shoulders, warm brown eyes that seemed both inviting and guarded. She had an elegance around her, carrying herself with quiet authority, her beauty nearly overwhelming.

Two things happened in that instant.

First, Islinda felt an overwhelming surge from deep within. Azula, who had been dormant inside her since they arrived here, stirred to life like a slumbering beast suddenly roused. Her presence was electric, venomous, and filled with unbridled hatred.

"Fayre," Azula hissed, her voice dripping with venom. It wasn’t just anger, it was a deep, consuming loathing that chilled Islinda to her very core.

Second, the stunning woman froze in her tracks. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale as if she had seen a ghost. Her hands trembled visibly, and she stumbled back, her composure cracking. "A-Azula..." the woman stammered, her voice shaking as if she had just been confronted by her worst nightmare.

Islinda’s head began to spin, the pieces of an impossible puzzle clicking into place with terrifying clarity.

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