That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate novel Chapter 352

Chapter 352
PRINCESS EMERIEL

“This one.” Emeriel lifted a small vial to her nose, the golden oil inside glowing in the sunlight. “Sandalwood and amber—perfect for easing tension.”

“Too heavy,” Lady Morina said, selecting another vial infused with sage. “You need something that soothes but does not cling so thickly to the skin.”

“What about this?” Aekeira reached for a slender vial marked Night’s Calm.

“Lavender,” Lady Morina noted with a faint smile. “I like it.”

Emeriel was grateful the lady had agreed to make this journey with them. She remembered the puffy redness around Morina’s eyes when they had sought her out that morning. Eyes that had wept for hours. Perhaps longer.

Emeriel could not imagine the depth of that grief, knowing the male who had killed her only son had not been a human invader but Grand Lord Zaiper. How could any Urekai comprehend such a betrayal?

It had been three days since the court had heard the Oracle’s reveals.

Three days of gloom and mourning.

The markets were shuttered. The courts stood empty. Fields, once alive with labor and song, lay untended.

All of Urai mourned.

King Daemonikai had not left his bedchamber. He remained behind closed doors, beating himself up for not seeing Zaiper’s treachery sooner.

Emeriel had wanted to comfort him. She had wanted to go to him the moment he disappeared behind those doors. But she had given him the space he needed.

Except one day passed.

Then another.

Then the third.

Worry had settled in her so much she confided in her sister. But Aekeira was struggling with the same. Lord Vladya had withdrawn into silence, locking himself away in his own rooms as well.

The sisters had spent long hours together, thinking of something—anything—they could do, but no answers had come. So, in desperation, they had sought Lady Morina’s counsel.

“Relaxation and comfort,” Morina had told them. “What they need most now is to know you are there. That you are not leaving them to bear this alone—even while you give them a little space.”

So Aekeira suggested they try massage.

And that was why they found themselves in the market, picking out oils and salves on this mournful morning.

“Ah. A fine choice,” the merchant said as Aekeira handed her the vial. “Blended with rose oil, valerian root, and a touch of cinnamon. Warms the muscles… and stirs the senses.”

Aekeira arched a brow. “Stirs the senses?”

The merchant’s smile deepened. “A touch of heat beneath the relaxation. If your men are warriors, then their bodies know strain. But a gentle burn… that can make them feel alive again.”