That Prince is a Girl the Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate - Chapter 692
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Chapter 692:
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Daemonikai lifted his head.
Emeriel stood before him, reddened eyes filled with remorse.
“What have I done? The seven gods… Please forgive me, my king.”
“What have you done? Forgive you?” Daemonikai growled, self-reproachfully.
“Emeriel Galilea Evenstone, how is any of this your fault?”
“I pushed for us to try, then—”
He encircled her waist, drawing her closer, and pressed his face against her belly.
“I am the one who will forever beg for your forgiveness. Perhaps I should relinquish my throne, head for the Dark Woods, and join the ferals there. Pretending to be alright when one is anything but, is—”
“You will not do such a thing,” she whispered.
“If I am not permitted to feel wretched, neither are you, my king.”
“Riel…”
“We will overcome this… together.” Her fingers ran through his hair in a soothing caress.
“We will emerge victorious on the other side.”
He breathed shakily.
“To this day, I still know not what went wrong. It has been three years. Three years, and not once did I see any sign of feral. Why now?”
“I have given it much thought,” she confessed.
“I have too. Gone over it again and again in my mind, but there is nothing. One moment, I was instructing the new recruits, and the next, I felt strange. And then… blankness.”
“It is unnatural…” Her words were starting to slur.
“Perhaps dark magic?”
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“Thought of it. Could be an explanation, for dark magic is potent.” He adjusted his hold on her as she swayed.
“I have searched through every known magical text of our people, and not one of them speaks of a spell capable of inducing mindlessness in another. On oneself, yes, but not externally.”
She hummed, voice growing heavier.
“So… if it were dark magic, it would not be Urekai magic…?”
“No,” he glanced up at her, expression dark.
“It would have required a hefty ritual, perhaps even a blood sacrifice. A dark mage.”
Emeriel’s eyes fluttered as she nodded sluggishly.
“I have already sent word to the mage king. It will take time to get a response, but I must know his thoughts on this.”
“A wise decision. We… uhmm… we must know…” Her thoughts were drifting now, her body going boneless against him.
Daemonikai caught her as she collapsed, scooping her effortlessly into his arms.
She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, nuzzling her face into his neck.
“Oh… I feel weird.”
“You are blood drunk,” he huffed, amused despite himself.
“It is alright. I have you.”
“My beloved,” she whispered dreamily.
“My amazing, powerful Beloved.”
Daemonikai only stared at that beautiful face.
She clung to him, her voice growing hazier, but the words stayed achingly clear.
“I wish I could take away some of your burdens. I will bury them somewhere far from the face of the earth… Or bear them as my own.”
She still thought this way? Even after everything?
That part of him that had died just moments ago shuddered awake and took its first breath.
“I wish you could see my heart…” She let out a soft exhale, her head lolling slightly.
His own soul burned. His mind rebelled against her words, against the comfort they brought. He did not deserve this. He did not deserve her. She should not have to soothe him. She should not have to reassure him. He was the one who harmed her. This burden—what he had done—was his to carry.
.
.
.