That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate novel Chapter 375

Chapter 375
“Feverfew for the head,” Madam Livia murmured, clipping the leafy plant and placing it into the basket Emeriel carried as the two of them walked through the woods. “Comfrey for wounds, valerian for sleep.”

Emeriel whistled absently, her spirits lifted by the joy of her new gift. Her Daemon had decided to keep the revelation a secret for now, at least until the Oracle could provide more insight. In his own words, "To protect my pregnant female before the people start lining up in crowds outside the residence all day to see her.”

“Are you listening to me?” Madam Livia asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Of course,” Emeriel replied with a quick smile.

The woman wasn’t fooled. “No, you weren’t. I understand how difficult it must be not to think about the Grand King every waking moment, but if you truly want to learn herbal craft, you must focus, Princess.”

Emeriel flushed, still smiling. She hadn’t been thinking about Daemonikai… not exactly.

“Now, let’s gather some valerian for—” Her words were cut short by the sharp whistle of an arrow striking her shoulder.

Madam Livia gasped and collapsed.

Emeriel didn’t have time to react before she heard another whistle headed straight for her. Acting on reflex, she snatched it mid-air, flung it aside, and spun on her heel. She ran with all her strength, driven forward by instinct.

The shot had come from far off, giving her precious seconds. She bolted between trees, using their trunks to shield her from the line of fire. But she wasn’t as fast as she used to be, one hand pressed to her belly.

“Get her! She must not get away!” a voice barked from behind. Footsteps thundered after her.

My Beloved, I need your help. My Beloved, please help me.

But even after the call, panic clung to her chest. It’s not just me anymore. She needed to protect their child until he arrived. Emeriel could not bear the thought of anything going wrong.

Twigs cracked underfoot as she pushed herself harder, lungs burning. Did Lord Zaiper send them?

Her hand smacked the rough bark of a tree to steady herself. Running wouldn't save her; she needed to hide. Scanning the underbrush, she spotted a dense cluster of tall grass up ahead. It could be enough. She veered toward it.

But a root snagged her foot, and she stumbled.

The world tilted—she threw out her arms to break the fall, twisting her body to shield her womb as she hit the ground hard. Pain exploded up her arm, and she choked back a cry. Move. Move!

Bootsteps pounded closer, louder. She could hear the rustle of cloth, the sound of weapons.

Emeriel tried to get up, but it was too much effort, so she began to crawl. Dragging herself toward the hiding place, every movement a battle. Almost there. Almost—

A hand tangled in her hair and yanked.

“Got her!” the voice roared. Fingers seized her shoulder, jerking her to her feet.

“Put the dagger through her chest, let’s get out of here!” another voice shouted.

Emeriel drove her knee into the inside of his leg, aiming just above the joint. His grip loosened just enough for her to twist herself free, drop low, and sweep his ankle with her heel.

He stumbled, catching himself before he fell.

“What in the devils!? We’ve got a fighter mama here,” the masked attacker shouted, amused.

She drove her elbow into his throat before the grin could spread further.

He doubled over, coughing, clutching his throat. “Fuck!”

Emeriel took off running for her life, but his arm hooked around her waist and yanked her back, his brute strength crushing her body against his, pressing hard into her abdomen. My baby.

Reacting fast, she drove her heel down, hard, onto the top of his foot. He snarled, but didn’t let go. She slammed the back of her head into his face. Pain jolted through her skull, but his own roar and loosened grip made the impact worth it.

Tearing free, she bolted again.

But he caught her again, driving her back into a tree, the impact jarring her spine. His hand clamped around her throat, cutting off her air.

“You annoying little brat!” he raged into her face. “Human scum.”

“Let go!” she wheezed, clawing at his arm. Tears in her eyes, fearing for the life inside her.

He squeezed harder, hissing. “Let’s see how fierce you are without air.”

Her body bucked against him, arms curled protectively around her stomach, even as her lungs screamed. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs kicked, her strength waning.

From the corner of her eye, she saw other males. Many of them, masked and dressed in black robes. Just how many soldiers came out here today to kill her? To watch her die? This is fun for them.