Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 688: Hope In The Dungeon

"Move it!" Islinda stumbled over her feet as the guard shoved her forward, causing her to nearly fall. She turned back to glare at him, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"What are you staring back at, murderer?" the guard sneered, clearly infuriated by her unyielding gaze. There was not an ounce of remorse in her eyes after killing Lord Karle, and it only fueled his anger further. freewёbnoνel.com

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson," he growled, lifting his hand to strike her.

Just as his hand began its descent, another guard grabbed his wrist, halting the blow. "Enough!" the second guard commanded, his voice stern.

He stared at the other guard who had just halted him, his anger still simmering. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The second guard ignored the question, responding instead, "We are instructed to take her to the dungeon, not to take the law into our own hands."

But the first guard wasn’t listening. Drunk on power, he towered over the second guard, his eyes blazing. "Do you dare to tell me how to do my job?" he snarled.

Despite the precariousness of the situation, the second guard remained calm. "She is a weak human. One careless move and you could kill her. Do you really want that in your hands?"

"Wrong! The whole realm would be happy if I ended the wench who killed their lord," the first guard retorted, his voice rising with each word.

"She’s Prince Aldric’s prisoner," the second guard interjected, his tone firm and unyielding. "You think the dark Fae prince is interested in your honor practice? Why don’t you lay a hand on her again and find out?"

The first guard’s jaw worked furiously, his gaze flickering between Islinda and the second guard, conflict evident in his eyes. He was torn between his rage and the harsh reality of the consequences laid out before him.

The second guard stepped closer, daring him to hit Islinda again. "Go ahead," he challenged. "See how well that ends for you."

The first guard’s fists clenched and unclenched, his breathing heavy. Finally, he spat on the ground in frustration, turning away from Islinda. "This isn’t over," he muttered darkly.

Islinda snickered inwardly, allowing herself a small, triumphant smirk.

"Move along," the second guard said to Islinda, his tone a lot softer than the other grumpy Fae. Maybe they could be friends, not that Islinda planned to stay here for long. She had her own plans.

Her hands were bound as soon as Elena and her pack of easily deceived high Fae declared judgment on her. However, breaking out of it should not be a problem. As long as her strength does not fail her.

She nodded and resumed walking, her steps steady despite the tension radiating through her. As they continued down the corridor, the first guard gave her an unnerving look, both of their gazes momentarily meeting before breaking apart. Islinda drew a deep breath, making a mental note to be wary around that one — she could see the killing intent in his eyes.

They reached the entrance to the dungeon, and Islinda swallowed at the sight of the heavy door looming over her. How was she going to break out of this?

The first guard shoved it open, his movements rough and impatient. "Get in," he barked, still seething.

Islinda stepped into the dimly lit dungeon, glancing back at the second guard, who gave her a small, reassuring nod. She straightened, shaking off the fear, and continued to walk forward, her head held high.

The air grew colder and more oppressive with each step, the faint light from the torches casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls. The stench of mildew and decay assaulted her senses, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

The guards flanked her, the first one shoving her forward with unnecessary force. "Keep moving," he growled.

Islinda had to bite down on her lips and hold back her anger because she was really tempted to knee that idiot in the spot where the sun never shines and then strangle him. Perhaps then, he would learn how to be polite even to prisoners.

Kalamazoo must have been taken somewhere else because there was no sign of him here and the cells they entered were empty. Finally, they reached her cell, and the first guard roughly pushed her inside.

The space was small and claustrophobic, the air thick with the smell of piss and rot. A worn-out bed sat in the corner, its mattress stained and sagging. A rickety chair leaned precariously against a battered table, both pieces of furniture looking as though they would collapse with the slightest touch.

How the mighty have fallen, Islinda thought sarcastically.

"This is where you will stay until it’s time for your execution," the first guard spat, his voice dripping with malice. He slammed the cell door shut, the sound reverberating through the dungeon.

Islinda turned to face the guards, her eyes meeting the second guard’s gaze. Unlike his colleague, he remained silent, a mysterious expression on his face. There was something in his eyes that gave her pause, a glimmer of recognition or perhaps something more. She couldn’t place him, but his presence stirred a faint hope within her. Had they met before? Was he on her side? Could Maxi have sent him?

Her thoughts raced as she considered the possibilities. She hadn’t heard from Maxi or Isaac since Kalamazoo had snuck them into the palace. Were they somewhere nearby, plotting her rescue? Islinda chose to believe they were, clinging to the hope that she wasn’t entirely alone in this wretched place.

"I hope you enjoy your stay. No, I know you will," the first guard said mockingly, bursting into laughter before turning to leave with his colleague.

Islinda ignored him. He was not worth her time.

The guards’ footsteps receded, the door closing with a resounding thud, and Islinda was left in the oppressive darkness of her cell. They did not even leave a torch for her.

Islinda took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear and despair threatening to overwhelm her. Searching blindly, she managed to locate the bed, testing its stability before sitting down. The mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable, the smell almost unbearable, but she forced herself to endure it.

To be honest, Islinda had no clear plan on how to get out of here. She could only hope on her strength or that Maxi and Isaac came for her. Or Aldric had a change of heart. Not that she saw that happening. Only a miracle could make that possible.

Islinda saw the look in his eyes; whatever spell Elena cast on him, the Aldric she knew was gone. For now, she would only wait and watch, ready to seize any opportunity that came her way. However, tonight was the deadline. She had to escape under the cover of the night.

Islinda lay back on the bed, the rough fabric scratching her skin. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind churning with so many thoughts, centering on escape and revenge. She would find a way out, and when she did, Elena would pay hugely for what she had done.

****

Meanwhile, Elena was giddy with excitement as she watched the first phase of her plan come to fruition. The image of Islinda’s shocked and defeated face was etched in her mind, fueling her sense of triumph. If it hadn’t been for the presence of the high faeries, she would have laughed, celebrated, and rubbed her success in Islinda’s face. But her victory wasn’t complete yet. She still planned on visiting Islinda’s cell later tonight. How delightful it would be to see her enemy at her lowest.

For now, Elena had another task at hand. She needed to attend to a certain autumn prince. Good thing she had the sense to set up a trap in case someone poked their nose where it wasn’t supposed to. Thanks to it, she swept a major player off Islinda’s board.

As she crossed through the illusionary wall, a gust of wind slammed into her. But Elena had anticipated the attack and quickly summoned a barrier, rendering the attack useless.

Andre, the autumn prince, stared at her wide-eyed in shock. "What the hell? You don’t use spells. You’re really a witch." He came to the realization. "But how is that possible? You are Elena of the Raysin family, a born fae. I know your parents. I knew you. You cannot be both a fae and a witch. What is going on here?" His voice was filled with confusion.

Elena smirked, relishing his bewilderment. "Ah, Andre, you always were too curious for your own good. You Fae are just so full of yourselves, you never see defeat coming until you’re down on your face. Thankfully it worked for my own good."

She finally confessed, "Of course, Fae cannot be a witch. You cannot be both. It’s against the very nature of your kind. I just happen not to be your kind." Elena grinned sinisterly.