That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King’s Slave Mate Novel

Chapter 445: "Thank you for coming back," the grand king said, huskily.

"Are you… are you not angry that I did?" Emeriel stared at their joined hands. "I know you sent me away because you didn't want me here." He was looking at her like that again. As if seeing her for the first time. The sparkle in his eyes grew brighter. Then, quietly, "I didn't… at that time."

Emeriel nodded. That much she knew. "Did you hear about the attempt on your life?" she asked, changing the subject.

"That too," he released her hand, his face hardening. "Ottai has already begun the investigation." "Yes. If the assassin was indeed acting under orders, we all hope the culprit is found." Emeriel tugged at her hand. "If you'll excuse me, Your Highness."

He took his time releasing her. But when he did, Emeriel made her escape.

"Emeriel?"

Those butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered again. She paused at the door but didn't turn.

"Thank you for saving my life… again."

"You saved mine too, two years ago. It's only right I return the favor."

"Come back later," he said in a low plea. "Please."

Emeriel couldn't have walked away fast enough.

GRAND KING DAEMONIKAI

She did not return the rest of the day.

Nor the day after.

As Grand King Daemonikai's body slowly mended itself, his strength gradually returned. As the days passed, he began to feel like his old self again.

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His soul was still wounded, but further symptoms of progression had mercifully ceased. There was no sign of full recovery yet, but they all hoped it would come. Eventually.

What Daemonikai hated most about illnesses was the confinement. Ottai and his people were adamant that he remain bedridden.

He was not to rise until the last of his herbs and potions had worked their magic. Until his strength fully returned.

Every day, his people sent him gifts-bunches of medicinal fragrance plants, cuts of rare meat. A famine ravaged the land, yet they still gave what little they had to their king.

A famine that would not have existed if Daemonikai had stepped up as the ultimate ruler he was and stopped wallowing in his pain.

He pushed the guilt away. Better late than never.

They hadn't given up on him, even when Daemonikai had long given up on himself. He was beyond grateful.

But now, their concern bordered on overbearing. Their insistence on his complete rest meant he was bound to the bed like a prisoner until he finished the last of the strengthening herbs and soul-soothing potions.

So, here he was, as the days dragged by, his world revolving around his bedchambers. And with them came the torture of waiting. Every passing hour, he stared at the door, waiting for Emeriel to return.

She didn't come, and he didn't summon her. He simply… waited.

.

.

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