Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 911: Tamry Forest

One moment, Islinda was walking in sunlight, feeling the warmth on her skin, and the next, it was as if she had stepped into another world entirely. The sky above was swallowed by ominous dark clouds that stretched endlessly over the barren land she had entered. The air felt heavier here, weighted with despair.

And yes, she was in the Tamry Forest.

To be honest, Islinda had no expectations, but she had imagined that a place called "Tamry forest" would at least have some woodland. Instead, what surrounded her was a desolate wasteland. There was nothing green here, nothing alive in the way forests were meant to be. The Tamry Forest was no forest. It was a desert.

They continued walking ahead, but Islinda’s steps grew slower as she tried to take in everything all at once. The king seemed to indulge her curiosity. That was her purpose for coming here, after all: to see what had become of the Tamry Forest as he claimed.

"There’s no green life," Islinda pointed out, though the observation was painfully obvious.

"There was once," the King of the Wraith replied. "But when you keep creatures, who unfortunately reproduce, locked away for nearly a thousand years with limited resources, this is what happens."

Islinda didn’t respond, knowing he was right. If the population of Astaria had been confined in such a manner, she imagined the outcome would have been just as dire.

"Over the years, the barrier deteriorated, and we often found gaps in it to search for resources. Some of those who ventured out returned with scraps for the people..." He looked her straight in the eyes. "But most of them never returned."

Islinda’s heart pounded in her chest as guilt washed over her. She looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. She didn’t know much, but she remembered how the soldiers at the boundaries treated breaches in the barrier as emergencies.

They would annihilate any creature that crossed over. Islinda had never been concerned about the creatures they killed until now. Now, she realized that those creatures had only been trying to survive. For the first time, she saw things through their eyes.

They continued walking. Despite the gloom and barrenness, there was still life. Children with monstrous features ran around, their laughter defying the oppressive atmosphere. Mothers chased after them, but when Islinda passed, they pulled their children close, shielding them with wary eyes full of fear and distrust. Islinda didn’t blame them. If she were in their position, she would have done the same.

However, she noted the division in their society. It seemed the males fought the wars while the females stayed behind to care for their homes. It was different from Astaria, where females fought alongside males.

But Islinda wasn’t about to lecture the Wraith King on societal norms, especially since she was a guest here, that is if one could call it that. The wraith king had been kind enough to use the term "guest" and not "prisoner "and she wasn’t about to push her luck.

"I don’t know your name," Islinda said, breaking the silence.

"Neither do I," he replied without missing a beat.

"Islinda Grace Remington," she introduced herself, though she frowned afterward. She had just given him her full name, a lapse in judgment by Fae cultural standards, as middle names held power. But then again, she wasn’t full Fae, nor was she royalty. Her name probably meant nothing here.

"Yours?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Zal’therak Xor’vanyth Thrylorr Vryn II," he said proudly, his chest puffing slightly.

Islinda stopped and stared at him, her brows raised. "If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick to calling you King Zal."

Zal’therak seemed to consider it, then nodded. "You may call me Zal, Islinda."

"Good," she said with relief. At least she wouldn’t risk biting her tongue every time she addressed him.

As they walked further, Islinda observed the crumbling houses made of mud, some little more than ramshackle tents. Fights broke out in some corners, but no one seemed bothered by it, as if such chaos was normal. She couldn’t imagine living like this.

Zal’therak seemed to read her thoughts and explained. "When our ancestors were first imprisoned here, they were divided. It wasn’t until after so many years later that my father managed to unite them under one banner. Now it is my responsibility to lead them to a better place."

Islinda looked up at the darkened sky. "And the clouds? It’s midday, but I can’t see the sun."

"We haven’t seen the sun in years," he admitted. "When you take from the earth more than it can give, it retaliates."

Although he didn’t elaborate, Islinda understood. This land was dying. It couldn’t support them anymore. They needed a new home.

After nearly an hour of walking, with Islinda learning more about the wasteland she had entered, they finally arrived at the king’s palace. Although it wasn’t as breathtaking as the Fae palaces, Zal’therak’s abode was much better than the wrecks she had seen scattered across his small kingdom.

The palace was made of stone and held fast. Though minimal in appearance, it was comfortable enough, considering their situation.

Together, they walked inside, trailed by Zal’therak’s guard, a burly orc who eyed Islinda with suspicion, as though expecting her to attack the king at any moment.

When they reached the king’s chambers, Islinda hesitated at the threshold, unsure if she should enter such a private space, but Zal’therak gave no indication she shouldn’t, so she followed. The guard came in as well. Almost immediately, two green-skinned females entered, walking gracefully toward their king.

"Your Majesty," Islinda heard them greet him in that strange tongue of his, which she could understand thanks to Azula’s magic.

The two women stood before him, waiting. Waiting for what?

Then, before Islinda’s eyes, she watched as his bony, monstrous form began to recede. His skeletal features smoothed, shrinking and reshaping until a human with a horned head stood in front of her.

Impossible.

Seeing her shocked expression, the now human-looking—well, almost human—Zal’therak greeted her formally. "Welcome to my abode, Islinda Grace Remington."

But Islinda didn’t smile. Instead, she hissed, "What the fuck are you?!"

Zal’therak smirked, clearly delighting in catching her off guard. "Half Fae, half Wraith, Lady Islinda." He responded proudly.