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

Chapter 593: GRAND KING DAEMONIKAI

He opened his eyes reluctantly to the bright rays of the morning sun. The warmth of the light on his face clashed with the cold, hard ground beneath him.

He frowned. This… isn't my chamber.

Sitting up slowly, his gaze swept the dim, familiar space around him. The dark walls and the small window near the corner allowed slivers of light to filter through.

The Forbidden Chambers? His frown deepened. Why the hell am I in the Forbidden Chambers?

And… why am I still wearing my training clothes?

Rising unsteadily to his feet, he palmed his head, bracing himself for his unwelcome companion of late-the hammering headache.

But he got… nothing.

No headache. No pain.

Huh.

Unease crawled along his skin as he surveyed the space again.

He remembered being on the training fields all day. Teaching the young recruits archery, pushing them harder than usual because he was eager to finish and return to his Beloved. But after that…

Nothing.

Stopping, his brows furrowed further, and he tried to piece together the broken memories. He could recall the sun setting as he wrapped up training. The anticipation in his chest as he imagined Emeriel's face lighting up when she saw him. But beyond that?

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Blank.

Not even a shred of memory.

"How does someone lose a whole evening?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He huffed a dry laugh. "If this isn't old age, I don't know what is."

Making his way to the door, he pushed against it… only to meet resistance.

His confusion deepened as he rattled the handle, realizing the door was locked.

Not just locked, but barred with thick metal gates outside.

Someone didn't just put me here… they made sure I stayed.

It was a slap to his pride. The locks were reinforced. The kind only used for a feral.

"What in Hades…?"

Slamming his fist against the door, he called out the command. "Who's out there?"

No response.

"Soldiers!" he bellowed, irritation rising.

The silence that followed felt louder than it should.

.

.

.