That Prince is a Girl the Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate - Chapter 452

Chapter 452:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

His scent, the solidness of his back, the warmth of his body. Heavens, this was a terrible idea. A terrible, stupid, reckless idea.

The grand king glanced over his shoulder. “How was your morning, beautiful?”

“The morning is still fresh, Your Grace,” she grumbled. She hesitated, then added, “I received the flowers. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” he said warmly. “The day is beautiful, is it not?”

“For a male who crawled out of death’s mouth, you’re certainly in high spirits this morning,” Emeriel muttered under her breath.

King Daemonikai chuckled. “I heard that.”

“Damn supernatural ears,” she mumbled.

“I heard that too,” he added, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Emeriel clamped her mouth shut, more startled by his laughter than anything else.

“I have prepared something for us,” he announced. “Brace yourself.” He signaled the horse to increase its speed.

Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his waist, holding tight as the horse surged forward.

As they galloped through the countryside, Emeriel fought to feel nothing.

Not the feel of his strong body under her hands, his hair tickling her face, the solidness of his back against her chest. No, she noticed none of that.

The ride ended sooner than expected, but when she dismounted, she realized just how far they had traveled.

The towering peaks of Asbar Mountain stood ahead, its snow-dusted cliffs plain against the clear sky.

When had the rest of the entourage dispersed? Only Wegai remained, and even he turned his horse around to depart, leaving them alone.

|@†€$† ¢♄₳þŧëяŞ |n Ġalπøνεlş.cøm

“I need his horse,” Emeriel requested.

King Daemonikai nodded, and Wegai obediently left the horse behind before making himself scarce.

Glancing around, her eyes narrowing as she noticed what lay ahead. He had set up… an archery range?

Targets lined the field—wooden frames holding tightly drawn circles of straw, each one marked with a painted bullseye. Bows and quivers filled with arrows rested on a makeshift stand crafted from branches.

“I come here occasionally to unwind,” King Daemonikai said, walking ahead with his hands clasped behind his back.

Emeriel took in the scenery—the well-maintained fields, the swaying tall grasses, and the majestic peaks of the mountains rising in the distance.

“It’s a beautiful place,” she admitted.

“It is,” he agreed, stopping at the makeshift table and selecting two bows. He offered one to Emeriel. “Archery is a way for me to center myself, to relax. Focusing on a single point, blocking out the world… it’s calming.”

Emeriel’s eyes traced the elegant bow, noticing the royal markings etched along its length. She ran her fingers over them.

GRAND KING DAEMONIKAI

He strode towards the archery stand, positioned a good distance from the target. With ease, he loosed an arrow. It flew straight, striking the bullseye dead center.

.

.

.