Demon Prince's Forsaken Bride-Chapter 50: You do not touch my people (1)

The self-deprecation he carried around Lareina seemed to disperse. As if the feeling of inferiority only bubbled in him when she looked at him in disgust because in this moment, the quiet and detached second prince looked no less than a narcissist, ’’It is precisely because great beings like us go fight the battlefield that you get to scheme when times are peaceful.’’

The man who was lying on the ground seemed to have already been rooted to the spot, not expecting such a response. It seemed like this second prince had a soft and thick fox tail that he usually tucked in his pants but at this moment, it had emerged. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

’’But how...’’

Seeing the man’s disbelief, Azrael narrowed his eyes but did not say a word for a long while, ’’I would still once believe that I desire the throne but hating the woman I have fought and schemed to marry is an impossibility,’’ Those words were vague but they seemed to contain secrets that nobody knew.

And the man on the ground knew that these words were spoken in front of him because he was a dead man in Azrael’s eyes.

In fact, Azrael grasped the man’s implication when he said that he did not manipulate him into feeling something but rather he amplified his existent feelings. When the man spoke of the demon lord pushing him into the fire, he agreed to it quietly as if he was bewitched. He did not even realize his thoughts were being controlled until the throne was mentioned. And that told him that this bewitchment was effective only when the other person hit the mark with his thoughts.

If he hated Lareina, then all this while, he would not be fighting himself while dealing with her. There were misgivings and resentments between them that probably ran too deep. He despised her treatment of him just as she disdained him. But the man had taken their complicated relationship for hatred. If only it was that simple.

’’Speak now,’’ Azrael looked at the man impatiently and as if the sword had a soul of its own, it pressed down on his neck, making the black cloth cling to his neck as blood gushed out.

The sword kept moving gradually, piercing the man a few inches when suddenly, it fell to the side and disappeared. Azrael hit the wall with a thud, his steps unstable.

The man on the ground pushed himself to his feet, gasping for air as he clutched his neck. Looking at the blood that stained his hand, his eyes turned murderous, ’’That was frightening, Your Highness,’’ he looked at the prince who was bent over, clutching his head with both his hands. A sweet aroma lingered in the air, invisible and almost undetectable.

The man waved his hand and the aroma dispersed.

’’What...’’ Azrael looked up, veins bulging on his forehead.

’’The last time I approached you, you discovered this fragrance when it was too late. Same was the situation some three years ago as well.’’

Those words barely registered in Azrael’s mind as the pain seemed to invade every inch of his body gradually, like a poison taking roots.

’’Whether you desire the throne or hate your wife or not is not up to you, Your Highness. You are destined to walk the bloody path of carnage I have laid out for you and be the sharpest blade in my possession. How can a blade have a mind of its own?" As he spoke, he held a small flower in his hand. The flower had deep purple, almost black petals with faint crimson veins that pulsed like blood.

Its center released a sweet, intoxicating fragrance that lured one closer which reflected in the way Azrael arched his neck, reaching out to the flower amidst his bout of madness.

Veins bulged around Azrael’s neck, his eyes turning a dark shade of red. He lost control over every limb of his body and in that moment, someone grabbed his jaw and shoved that flower in his mouth. A sweet taste filled his mouth and soon consumed his senses. Like magic, the pain that consumed him dispersed.

’’Your Highness.’’

Azrael looked up at the man, any hint of animosity gone from his eyes that sported a blank stare, ’’The only woman in your heart is Moira. Lareina, that human princess is your object of hatred. Demean her, mistreat her, hurt her, torment her and when the time is ripe...’’ the man leaned close, his eyes squinting in a way that suggested he was smiling under that cloth that covered his face, ’’Kill her."

...

Back in the inn, Lareina and Astra quickly went to check in the room where Moira and Rosie stayed. After a few knocks, the door was opened by Rosie.

However, before Lareina could question her, her gaze landed on the woman who was lying idly on the bed in a lithe posture like she was boneless.

Astra glanced at Lareina, waiting for her instructions as the latter had not revealed her intentions yet.

’’My Lady, are you not used to the air around here? You seem to be feeling stuffy!’’ Moira slowly sat up, ’’But you graced my room at this hour and it pleases me beyond anything.’’

There was not a hint of stress on Moira’s face and not a single hair of hers was out of place. It has been barely a few minutes and Lareina was bitten by a snake, had the poison sucked out by Azrael in the embarrassing position she would want to forget forever and then she had to run back and forth.

’’Rosie, have you been serving Lady Moira well?" Lareina directed this question to Rosie while looking at Moira.

’’My Lady, she has been absent from the room for quite a long time. She came back a few minutes ago...’’ Rosie said softly.

Lareina raised a brow, ’’It seems the air around here is not suiting you as well. Did you perhaps go to get some fresh air in the gardens?"