Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 818

Chapter 818: What Have You Done?

Queen Victoria barely managed to set down her third—or was it her fifth?—cup of water on the table when the door to her chamber swung open. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Queen Nirvana strolled in with her typical air of haughty indifference.

"Oh God, no," Victoria muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to ward off the headache that had been building for the past hour.

The day had been relentless, with one visit after another from courtiers, advisers, and worried nobility, all seeking confirmation about the disturbing rumors swirling through the palace. Rumors that her would-have-been daughter-in-law, Islinda, was a Dark Fae. Now, her irritable co-wife was here to add fuel to the fire. She could barely stand it.

Nirvana took one look at Victoria’s sour expression and raised an eyebrow. "You certainly look like shit," she commented without emotion. "You’ve aged ten years in just one."

Victoria’s patience, already frayed, snapped further. "What do you want, Nirvana?" she demanded through gritted teeth. She was in no mood for verbal sparring.

Nirvana smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You know why I’m here, don’t you? I just heard some very twisted news, and I want to verify it from the source. You were there, after all."

Before Victoria could respond, the door burst open again. This time, there was no measured grace or cold demeanor. Queen Maeve stormed into the room, eyes wild and feral, her expression one of pure, unbridled fury.

"Is it true?" Maeve’s voice was a snarl, and she nearly got into Victoria’s face, her breath hot with the demand. "Is it true that Islinda is a Dark Fae?!"

Victoria threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "Seriously?" she snapped, looking between her two fellow queens, both of whom had entered her chambers uninvited, unannounced, and now without any semblance of respect. "What happened to common courtesy?"

But Maeve was in no mood for decorum. "Just answer the damn question, Victoria!" she barked, her voice rising with every syllable.

"What?" Victoria was dumbfounded by Maeve’s audacity, her tone and her sheer nerve. As Queen of the Fae, Victoria deserved respect, not this brash confrontation.

"Is Islinda a Dark Fae?" Maeve demanded more fiercely, her eyes burning with intensity.

"No, no, no," Victoria began to shake her head, her voice rising in indignation. "We might be co-wives, but you don’t get to speak to me that way. After all, when it comes to hierarchies, I’m your senior, and you’re nothing but the past Fae Queen."

For a moment, there was nothing but an awkward silence between the three queens, tension thick in the air. Everyone knew not to remind Queen Maeve about the position she once had and lost.

Then, without warning, Maeve began to thrash about the room, knocking over anything within reach—vases, books, a glass of water—sending them crashing to the ground. Her rage was palpable, like a storm brewing in the confined space of Victoria’s chambers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Maeve?!" Victoria shouted, stunned by her co-wife’s erratic behavior.

But Victoria was already on her, tackling her to the ground. The room descended into chaos as the two queens grappled, Victoria on top, delivering swift, heavy punches that Maeve didn’t even see coming. Maeve tried to fight back, but Victoria’s rage was relentless, her blows fueled by years of pent-up frustration.

"Victoria, that’s enough..." Nirvana tried to intervene, but Victoria, in her fury, used her wind ability to knock Nirvana aside. Nirvana hit the wall with a sickening thud, sliding to the floor, momentarily dazed.

With no one left to stop her, Victoria continued her assault on Maeve. For the first time in her life, Maeve saw her life flash before her eyes. There was a wild, animalistic look on Victoria’s face, her normally calm and composed demeanor shattered by a primal fury. She almost looked like she was going to kill her.

"I am not weak! I am not pathetic! I am not a coward!" Victoria’s voice was a growl, each word punctuated by another punch. Her fists were bloodied from pummeling Maeve’s face, but she didn’t care. The sickening feeling of her fists connecting with Maeve’s flesh was thrilling, intoxicating.

It wasn’t until Nirvana, having recovered, tackled Victoria to the ground with a desperate lunge and shouted, "Enough!" that Victoria seemed to snap out of her frenzy. The red haze of her rage lifted, and she looked down at her hands, trembling as the reality of what she had done sank in.

Queen Maeve lay unconscious on the floor, her face a bloody pulp, her breaths shallow and labored. Victoria stared, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She had beaten Maeve to a bloody mess—nearly to death.

Nirvana, still holding her down, whispered, "What have you done, Victoria?"

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