Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 913: To Protect The Ones You Love

Just as Islinda was about to retch into the very cup she had drunk from, Zal’therak’s deep laughter filled the room.

He pointed at her, his eyes alight with mirth. "You should see your face!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing with genuine amusement. "You actually believed me!"

Islinda froze, her gagging interrupted by her disbelief. Slowly, she straightened, her face contorted with a mix of mortification and fury. "You’re joking?" she demanded, her voice rising.

Zal’therak wiped at his eyes, as if brushing away tears of laughter. "Of course I’m joking," he said, his smirk widening. "Did you really think I would serve my esteemed guest something so revolting? Truly, Islinda, I expected more from you."

For a moment, she could only stare at him, dumbfounded. But as her mind cleared and the reality of the situation sank in, her expression shifted from shock to irritation. She glared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You’re an asshole," she muttered, tossing the cup away with more force than necessary.

Zal’therak leaned forward slightly, his amusement not dimming in the slightest. "Oh, come now. It was a harmless jest. You should be flattered, I only tease those I find interesting."

Islinda’s glare didn’t falter, but as she continued to watch him, something else struck her. In his laughter, in the way he delighted in tricking her, she saw a side of him she hadn’t expected. Beneath the imposing exterior of the Wraith King lay a mischievous, tricky side, a reminder of his Fae heritage. He may have been half Wraith, but his Fae blood clearly ran deep.

Crossing her arms, Islinda leaned back with a huff. "You’re half Fae, all right," she muttered, the corners of her lips twitching despite herself.

Zal’therak’s grin only widened. "And don’t you forget it."

Curious now, Islinda tilted her head. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen human years," he replied.

Her eyes lit up with intrigue. "You know about the human realm?"

"My mother lived there for a while," he answered, his voice softening slightly. "She told me many tales about it and even taught me the human tongue. Although I might have forgotten a few phrases since I haven’t practiced lately. And, well, my duties as king don’t leave much room for reminiscing with my mother."

Islinda studied him with surprise. Everything she had ever heard about wraiths painted them as emotionless creatures driven solely by destruction. Yet here he was, a half-wraith, speaking about his mother as if she were a treasure. It was jarring and yet oddly touching.

"You must have really loved your mother," Islinda said softly, almost reluctant to break the moment.

"Yes," Zal’therak said without hesitation, his voice carrying a weight that made Islinda believe every word. "She loved me equally. It was always the two of us against the world. After all, my mother was a dark Fae in a kingdom of monsters."

Islinda frowned, her heart skipping a beat. "Did you just say dark Fae?" she asked, her pulse quickening. With so few dark Fae in existence, the mere thought of discovering another alive filled her with equal parts excitement and disbelief.

No wonder. A light Fae would never have succumbed to the idea of sleeping with a wraith. Those arrogant light fae bastards would rather end their lives than sully themselves with a creature from the Tamry Forest.

Islinda thoughts spun. She tried to reconcile this information with the stories she’d always been told about Fae and wraiths. None of it fit the narrative she’d grown up believing.

"She was different," Zal’therak continued, his expression growing distant. "And when I was born, I knew I was different too, stuck between two worlds, Fae and wraith. But my father tried his best. He loved her, for sure, unlike his other wives—"

"Wait a minute." Islinda cut him off, eyes wide. "Your father had other wives?"

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "But my mother was the only one he ever truly loved. At least, as far as I know. The other wives and their sons hated her. They could only tolerate her because she hadn’t been able to bear him an heir. A child between a wraith and a Fae was considered impossible. But then I came along, a sign from the gods. My father knew instantly that it would be my destiny to lead his people. He protected me from his jealous wives and their sons, as well as other enemies."

Zal’therak’s tone grew colder, his gaze sharpening. "Thankfully, I had grown strong before my father died. After his death, I killed his wives and my half-brothers before they could harm me or my mother."

This time, Islinda was truly lost for words. She sat in stunned silence, her mind spinning from the tale Zal’therak had just shared. The fact that an eighteen-year-old had killed off his entire family? It was overwhelming. Islinda didn’t know how to feel about it. Perhaps she had been too hasty in trusting him.

"You’re judging me again," Zal’therak said, his sharp gaze fixed on her, as if he could read every thought flickering through her mind.

Islinda rubbed her temples, feeling the gravity of the situation. "You just confessed to killing your family," she replied, her voice carrying both disbelief and unease.

"It is the way of the wraith tribe," Zal’therak said evenly, his expression unflinching. "My father had many sons in order to breed the strongest among us. Only the strongest could rule. Moreover, even if I were inclined to mercy, it was kill or be killed. What would you have me do, Islinda Grace Remington? Tell me, have you never taken a life to protect what was precious to you?"

His question struck a nerve, and Islinda froze. The words dug deep, stirring memories she had buried long ago.

Her mind flashed to the moment she had killed her stepsister back in the human realm. That had been out of self-defense, of course. She hadn’t meant to kill Lilian. But still, the blood was on her hands.