Page 164 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

The night enveloped the surroundings in darkness, yet the multitude of fire torches held by each Urekai illuminated the scene as if it were daylight. They assembled at the tournament arena, filling every seat, leaving no corner unoccupied—Some were even standing. Soldiers and Urekai maids were granted permission to attend, while humans were strictly forbidden.

"Any human found near the arena shall be burned alive," Lord Zaiper had stated, earlier that morning.

Thus, everyone was confined to quarters. However, Emeriel had slipped away. Not out of a desire for death, but because he simply could not bear to remain within the suffocating walls of his chamber. He had tried to stay put, he truly had.

Yet this pain... it was a living thing, killing him from within. His heart burned, each beat a searing agony.

They will kill him tonight.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the image, swallowing a sob.

"Em...?" a soft, gentle voice called.

Emeriel turned, tears streaming down his face as he met Aekeira's gaze. A helpless plea in his eyes.

"Oh Em, don't do this to yourself," Aekeira whispered, her voice filled with worry. His sister looked exhausted, she had been frantic with worry, stressed for him.

Yesterday, Emeriel had felt intoxicated in a way he never had before. He had floated a kind of soothing euphoria he'd never known, all because his Beloved had drunk from him. A strange lightness. Blissful. Relaxing.

He had woken afterward, in the forbidden chamber, the beast's arm draped protectively over him.

And now, they would execute him.

"Don't, don't," Aekeira pleaded, but it was too late.

Sobs ripped from Emeriel's throat, tears streaming down his face.

"Em..." Aekeira whispered helplessly, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"It hurts," he gasped, his body shaking as he clung to Aekeira, his voice breaking. "Like someone is sawing at my limb."

"It's alright, it's alright. I am here for you," Aekeira soothed, her own voice trembling as she fought back her own tears. "Let it all out."

"No, she shouldnot." Madam Livia stood silhouetted against the torchlight, her expression stern. “What are you two doing here?"

They sprang apart, staring at the older woman guiltily.

"Do you wish to be burned alive?" Livia's voice was sharp, yet a hint of concern softened her words. "Aekeira, why are you encouraging her to cry and attract the soldiers? You two should not be here."

"Madam Livia..." Emeriel cried hoarsely, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

"Enough. Back to your rooms, now."

Emeriel shook his head in protest.

"Go now," There was no room for argument in her tone. "You both are far from Blackstone, and it’s not safe. Come, I shall lead you back to your rooms."

With a final, shuddering sob, he allowed Aekeira to guide him away. Together, they followed the head maid back to the safety of their quarters.

Grand Lord Zaiper stood tall at the podium, his eyes sweeping over the crowd assembled before him—the vast expanse of faces illuminated by torchlight. He could barely contain the triumphant grin tugging at his lips.

His heart swelled with such joy that he had to fight the urge to whistle a merry tune. With effort, he composed his features into a mask of cool authority. Tonight was a night for celebration.

Finally.

After tonight, he would be one giant step closer to claiming the grand throne.

To his right, Ottai’s shoulders slumped in mourning, sadness, and desolation etched on his face. On his left, Vladya remained his usual enigmatic self. But Zaiper could sense the tension radiating from him. The male was a coiled spring, ready to snap.

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