Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 804: Jealous Lover

"What...?" Islinda finally managed to say after what felt like an eternity of silence. Her voice trembled with disbelief, as though the word itself was foreign on her tongue.

"Let’s get married," Andre repeated, his tone calm, as if he were suggesting something as ordinary as a walk in the garden. The sheer casualness of it only added to the absurdity of the situation.

The room seemed to tilt on its axis, and Islinda blinked rapidly, certain she had misheard him. But no, he had just said it—twice. The words hung in the air like an impossible dream, and for a moment, Islinda felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

Then, before she could stop herself, Islinda burst into laughter. It was a wild, unrestrained sound, one that echoed off the walls of the room. She laughed and laughed until tears streamed down her face. "Oww," she muttered when her hand accidentally brushed against the wound on her chest, and the tears of mirth turned to ones of pain.

Andre’s face darkened, a shadow falling over his features as he watched her laugh. "What is so funny?" he asked coldly, his tone a sharp contrast to the warmth that had always colored his words when he spoke to her.

Islinda didn’t notice the shift in his demeanor; she was too caught up in her disbelief. "I didn’t know you had such a sense of humor, Andre," she said, her voice laced with amusement.

But Andre’s expression remained stony, and in the blink of an eye, he was beside her. Before Islinda could react, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her, hard. The suddenness of it left her paralyzed, her mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. She had sensed over the past few days that Andre might have feelings for her, but this? This was over the top, shocking, and deeply unsettling.

It was wrong.

Islinda’s instincts kicked in, and she tried to push him away, but Andre’s grip was ironclad. He pinned her hands down with one of his own, while the other cupped her face, deepening the kiss. Fury ignited within Islinda, and she bit down hard on his tongue, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Andre flinched, finally pulling away when he realized she wasn’t going to stop until she had done real damage.

They separated, both of them breathing heavily. Islinda felt violated, her skin crawling with the aftershocks of what had just happened. She raised her hand, intending to slap him, but Andre was faster. He caught her wrist mid-air, his grip unyielding.

"Do you think I’m joking right now?" His voice was low and dangerous, a tone Islinda had never heard from him before.

She was stunned. This was the first time she had seen this side of Andre—cold, ruthless, and utterly foreign. Was this who he really was, hidden beneath the mask of the good prince? Or had something twisted within him, something dark and malevolent? Her thoughts flickered to Azula, and the uneasy feeling that this was somehow her doing crept into her mind.

"What did she do to you?" Islinda demanded, her voice shaking with anger and fear. "Why are you suddenly like this, Andre?"

"She did nothing," he retorted, his eyes gleaming with a wild intensity. "If anything, she opened my eyes. I’ve always liked you, Islinda. I won’t hold back my feelings anymore."

Islinda stared at him in disbelief. This was not what she had expected, not at all. Her mind whirred as she tried to process his words. But then her expression hardened, and she shook her head, resolute.

"No," she said firmly.

Andre’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"No, I will not marry you," Islinda repeated, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "This is too sudden. It reeks of Azula’s influence. And even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t marry you, Andre. You’re my friend—nothing more. After what you just did, I don’t even know if I can consider you that anymore."

Andre’s face twisted into something dark, something almost cruel. Then, to her horror, he smiled—a slow, chilling smile that sent shivers down her spine. "I thought you might say that, which is why I’m calling in the favor you owe me."

The blood drained from Islinda’s face. "No," she whispered, shaking her head in denial. "That favor was supposed to be something that wouldn’t harm me or put me in a difficult situation."

"This marriage won’t harm you," Andre said smoothly, his voice dangerously calm. "If anything, I intend to treat you right for the rest of your life. And it’s not putting you in a difficult situation either—after all, I’m keeping your secret, aren’t I?"

Islinda opened her mouth to argue, but the binding spell of the deal they had made clamped down on her, choking the words before they could form. She was trapped, ensnared by her own promise.

"Please, Andre," she begged, her voice breaking. "Don’t do this. Don’t ruin what we had."

Andre’s eyes softened for just a moment, but the resolve in them didn’t waver. "This is final, Islinda. We will get married."

As he spoke, the door to the chamber burst open, and Prince Theodore strode in. He took in the tense scene before him, his eyes narrowing in concern.

"What are you doing here, Theodore?" Andre asked, his voice laced with irritation. He did not appreciate anyone interrupting his quiet time with Islinda. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

Theodore’s gaze shifted between them, sensing the undercurrents of tension. He had this feeling he just interrupted something — one he didn’t want to be part of.

"Mother sent me to check on Islinda," he said, his tone cautious.

A jealous sneer twisted Andre’s lips. "There’s no need for that. I’ll take care of my fiancée from now on."

Theodore’s eyes widened in shock, and Islinda’s heart sank even further. She could see the confusion and disbelief in Theodore’s expression, mirroring her own.