That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate novel Chapter 349

Chapter 349
Sacred relics gleamed beneath protective glass, set upon altars of blackwood and obsidian. Votive lights shined in iron sconces along the walls. Every detail spoke of reverence, tradition, old magic and power.

Entering the hall, Daemonikai’s eyes landed on one object in particular. The Charlice.

Once awakened, it was one of the most powerful relics they ever possessed. Among its many abilities was the power to grant them strength on their night of weakness. Stolen during the last eclipse moon, Vladya had pried it from the human king’s dead fingers after he'd slain him.

Forcing that night away from his thoughts, Daemonikai ascended the dais, the gathered assembly rising in deference.

His eyes found her, as they always did. And as ever, something in him relaxed and softened.

Princess Emeriel sat among the highborn ladies and mistresses of Urai. Beside her was her sister. The two women leaned together, heads touching as they slept with a bowl of nuts rested precariously on their laps.

“Look at them," Daemonikai nudged Vladya with his elbow.

Vladya was already watching them, stopping beside Daemonikai instead of moving around to take his seat.

“It is the best feeling, seeing your female carrying your child. There is nothing like it,” Vladya said quietly.

“I know.” Daemonikai could sit and watch Emeriel all day, and never tire of it. “It doesn't help that they look as sweet as spring bloom with their moods swinging from laughter to tears in the blink of an eye.”

Vladya huffed out a laugh. “Aekeira burst into tears yesterday because her broth was too hot. I was helpless what to do. It comes without warning.”

They were aware of the hall watching them—waiting for their rulers to sit before the rest of the gathering took their places. Following the line of their gaze, many in the crowd glanced toward the princesses.

A few snorted, others exchanged glances and rolled their eyes, but most smiled. The sight of the two women still seated while the others stood, heads pressed together in sleep, was enough to soften even the hardest lords.

“We had best take our seats.” Daemonikai forced himself to tear his gaze from Emeriel. He gestured subtly to the crowd before lowering himself onto his throne.

Before him, Vladya sat to the left side, Ottai already seated to his right. In between them, Zaiper’s throne stood conspicuously empty.

In the front row of mistresses, another chair remained unoccupied; the seat reserved for his bloodhost.

Daemonikai had heard everything that transpired in his absence after he regained consciousness three days later. Vladya told him Sinai brought her fate upon herself, but he still felt bad about his actions. As usual he remembered nothing of those hours.

But fortunately, the Mistress was alive, healing under care.

The ceremony moved forward, the solemn cadence of the sacred rites beginning. The priests and high elders took their places, beginning the murmured incantations.

••••••

The priestess stood over the wide bowl of water set upon the altar, a slender ceremonial blade poised in her hand.

“We give blood to the waning, so the waxing may thrive. Let no shadow devour the whole. Let no darkness steal its soul. Moonrise, moonrise—guard the light until its time.”