Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 672: Fiendish Competition

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"What do you say, brother? Like I said earlier, why don’t we make this game a lot more interesting?" Aldric smirked fiendishly, his arms wrapped possessively around Islinda.

Islinda stared Andre in the eyes, shaking her head and silently begging him to turn it down. Unfortunately, males and their inflated egos often led to poor decisions. Andre, with a confident smile as if they were about to go on a joyride, answered, "Sure, why not?"

Islinda’s nostrils flared with anger. She was so sick and tired of being caught in the middle of their fights. Why couldn’t Eli just let this go? Okay, maybe Andre had a little crush on her—so what? Must they measure dicks? Not that Islinda intended to literally see Andre’s dick.

The Autumn prince was handsome and all, but like he had accused her back at the palace, she was not collecting the brothers. Neither was she starting a harem like their father, King Oberon. One dick was enough for her. Except, the one dick she wanted was being a dick right now.

"Good." Aldric’s eyes lit up with excitement, toying with Islinda’s hair despite her brushing him off in annoyance. Undeterred, he continued his playful torment.

Like an orgasm, Aldric’s evil games always aroused him. "Why don’t you go stand in the target range and let us begin?" he said, his voice dripping with malicious anticipation. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Islinda’s frustration grew as Aldric’s grip tightened, his fingers brushing against her in a way that was both possessive and irritating. She watched helplessly as Andre moved toward the target range, his steps confident despite the clear tension in the air.

Something must be wrong with Andre’s head. Islinda just couldn’t understand how one would willingly walk to their death. Andre was smart and surely knew Aldric had ulterior motives for this game and yet, he willingly indulged him.

Wasn’t that practically suicide?

Or has being practically immortal, given them the illusion of having an extra life? Or were they so bored they willingly welcomed death. Not that Islinda planned to send him to the early grave if that was Andre’s twisted desire. By chance, does Fae suffer depression? Islinda had a lot of wild thoughts running through her head.

The crowd around them watched with bated breath, murmurs of disbelief and excitement spreading like wildfire. It was not like everyday they saw a scene like this play out. This was the sort of spectacle they had come to expect from the Winter Court’s most notorious high lord, Prince Aldric.

"Aldric, this isn’t necessary," Islinda tried one last time, her voice a mix of desperation and frustration.

"Shhh," Eli whispered again, kissing her cheek this time and letting his lips linger there, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine. Seriously, she had to start fighting against this influence he held against her. But then, she was too weak.

"Simply enjoy the show." He said with a dark promise in his tone.

With her heart in her throat, Islinda watched Andre reach the target range and turned to face them.

"Good." Aldric mused, his eyes blazing with intensity as he adjusted Islinda’s stance, his hands guiding hers on the bow.

The intimacy of the moment was not lost on the onlookers, nor on Islinda herself, who felt her heart race for reasons beyond fear. Something must be wrong with her head, else she wouldn’t be thrilled with this, Islinda thought. She was as damaged as Aldric.

"Ready?" Aldric’s voice was low and seductive, a stark contrast to the tension in the air.

"I—I don’t know—" Islinda’s confidence wavered at the last minute.

"Careful there, love. I might have my hands on you, but you are the one drawing the arrow, and you don’t want to know the consequences of killing a royal," Aldric whispered.

The gods help her. Islinda wanted to punch Eli at a moment like this. He was supposed to be helping her, not reminding her of the billion ways this could go wrong.

He continued taunting her, "Just a little higher to the right and that would be his heart. Hit there, and I could tell you the estimated time my dearest brother has if he doesn’t heal or have a healer assist him. He would be dead in a matter of—"

"Fine, I get it!" Islinda snapped.

The gods help her! Just when she thought Eli was the lesser evil, it turned out he was the biggest psychopath. What were the gods thinking when they gave her this fate? She was seriously not strong enough for this.

Eli grinned at her reaction but didn’t show it. The smile was gone as soon as it came.

"Ready now?" he questioned.

Islinda drew a deep breath with her eyes closed. When she reopened them, her confidence was back. "Ready," she replied, her gaze locked on Andre, who was unfazed, standing in front of the target.

Yeah, the Fae were a crazy bunch. It was quite unfortunate it was too late for her to escape them.

With a smirk, Aldric helped pull back the bowstring, his arms around Islinda, guiding her every movement. He let go at the last minute, the tension in the string mirroring the tension in the air, thick and palpable. Nearly everyone watched the scene now with bated breath, their hearts pounding in anticipation.

"Let’s see how good you really are, my little human," Aldric taunted, his voice dripping with malice and excitement.

"Now!" he ordered.

Islinda blinked, then released the arrow, sending it flying towards Andre and held her breath.

The Autumn prince was one of the bravest people she had ever known because Andre did not move, not as much as blink, not even when the arrow missed his face by mere inches and lodged in the target behind him.

The crowd cheered while Islinda released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding in all this while. Thank the gods. That was a close one. And she was never doing this again.

Except Aldric announced at that moment, "Now, let’s see how well you’ll do at round two, darling." His eyes were gleaming with malice.

You have got to be kidding me.