Mated To The Cruel Prince
Chapter 545: Father Of Ravens — 1

Chapter 545: Father Of Ravens — 1

In the cold, stone confines of his prison cell, Aldric sat still, his figure serene as if asleep. Yet, beneath his closed eyelids, a spark of anticipation flickered. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, alert and keen—it was time.

As he waited in the oppressive silence, a sudden fluttering of wings shattered the stillness, drawing his attention to the barred window. Through the metal, a conspiracy of ravens descended, their glossy feathers glistening like obsidian in the scant sunlight that filtered through the narrow opening. Each bird moved with an otherworldly grace, their movements synchronized as if guided by an unseen force.

The air was alive with the sound of their wings as they swirled and danced, filling the space with an ethereal presence. Aldric watched in awe as the ravens seemed to merge and meld together, their forms shifting and twisting until they coalesced into a single figure—a man with hair as dark as midnight, cascading like a waterfall of raven’s feathers.

Aldric’s lips curled into a smirk as he regarded the mysterious being before him. "I see you got my message, Azrael," he remarked, his voice dripping with amusement and satisfaction. The name rolled off his tongue with a sense of familiarity, hinting at a history between them shrouded in secrets and intrigue.

The man’s piercing gaze met his own, a furrow appearing between his brows as he retorted, "Why wouldn’t I, when the ravens I gifted you cawed days and night into my ears."

"Then perhaps, you should have listened to them and saved yourself the trouble." Aldric quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm and veiled amusement. There was a hint of satisfaction in his demeanor, as if he had expected this exchange and was relishing the opportunity to engage in verbal sparring with his companion.

Azrael made a grunt beneath his throat, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him. The creature before Aldric was a raven shifter, a rarity just like Maxi. He had encountered this creature during his countless adventures away from the palace, and had even once saved its life.

For once, Aldric found himself not resentful about being sent away from the palace, away from the comforts and coddling afforded to the other princes. It was during his time in the wild, away from the opulence of royal life, that he forged connections with creatures like the raven shifter, building his army of oddities and allies in the process.

Creatures like Azrael were ancient beings, their existence stretching back through the annals of time. Unlike the horse shifters, whose numbers had dwindled to near extinction, these ancient beings still roamed the realms, though they preferred to remain hidden from the prying eyes and political machinations of the Fae.

The Fae were notorious for their manipulative nature, often using others as pawns in their intricate games of power. While some ancient creatures possessed powers that could tip the scales of balance in the realms, they were cautious about revealing themselves, lest they fall prey to the Fae’s schemes. They understood the danger of their abilities falling into the wrong hands, and thus chose to remain elusive, safeguarding their secrets from those who sought to exploit them for their own gain.

Aldric paid little heed to the cautionary tales surrounding creatures like Azreal. To him, Azrael had bestowed upon him an immeasurable favor—the ravens that served as his loyal allies, and the invaluable gift of summoning him in times of need. Despite the risks involved, Aldric cherished this bond, understanding the significance of having such a powerful ally at his side.

However, Aldric also recognized the necessity of secrecy. He understood the dangers of revealing Azrael’s existence to the world, especially in the treacherous landscape of Astaria’s politics. This was why even Maxi, once his closest confidante, knew about the ravens, but not whom they belonged to.

Azrael loomed tall, his formidable figure stretching a good seven feet in height, his muscles rippling beneath his skin with an air of strength and power. After completing his shapeshifting, he would have been left naked, exposed to Aldric if not for his mastery over his abilities. With a deft flick of his hand, he conjured clothing from the very essence of the ravens that served him, weaving together a garment of sleek feathers that clung to his body, concealing his nakedness with an elegance befitting his regal demeanor.

Though the feathers appeared as ordinary clothing, they were far from lifeless. Each plume pulsed with a vibrant energy, a proof to the living essence that flowed through them. It was a well-known fact that even a single feather plucked from Azrael’s ensemble was considered a grave offense, an act of disrespect toward the majestic creatures from which they originated.

Aldric, in turn, was fiercely protective of his avian companions, nurturing them as if they were his own despite their occasional unruliness and defiant attitudes. After all, with their cunning intellect and unwavering loyalty, the ravens were an indispensable asset in his quest for power and dominance in the tumultuous kingdom of Astaria.

Azrael’s deep voice resonated through the confines of the prison cell, "This is not the kind of trouble I imagined you would be in, Aldric, heir of the Night court," he remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of disbelief as he surveyed his surroundings.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Azrael couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder as he took in every detail of the cramped cell. His large frame moved gracefully around the space, his fingertips trailing over the cold stone walls and rough-hewn floor as if exploring the wonders of a newfound world. There was a childlike fascination in his actions, as if he were seeing the world through fresh eyes, captivated by its mysteries and complexities.

Aldric’s frown deepened at the mention of his title, "Don’t call me that again," he cautioned, his voice firm and unwavering.

As their gazes locked, a palpable tension hung in the air, threatening to ignite into something more volatile.