The Ring

•CHAPTER 8•

JENNIFER'S POINT OF VIEW

My heart skipped a beat as I stood face to face with the woman from the night market, now revealed to be the Princess herself. With a steely resolve, I raised my sword, the glint of its blade casting an ominous shadow across the corridor. My grip tightened on my sword, my pulse quickening with the intensity of the moment.

As I took a tentative step forward, intending to speak to the Princess, my movements halted abruptly as a cold, metallic sensation pressed against my neck. A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips as the edge of the sword dug into the delicate skin, drawing a thin line of crimson.

The sudden, unexpected attack sent shockwaves of pain coursing through my body, the sting of the wound searing against my skin. I winced, a surge of adrenaline flooding my senses as I struggled to maintain my composure in the face of danger.

With a barely perceptible movement, I tilted my head slightly, straining against the pressure of the sword at my neck. In that fleeting moment, I found myself inches away from the chest of a formidable man, his presence imposing yet strangely alluring.

The cold steel of his sword pressed mercilessly against my skin, a stark reminder of the perilous predicament I was in. But despite the looming threat, my gaze remained locked with his, drawn to the intensity of his eyes - sharp, piercing orbs brimming with suppressed fury.

His handsome features were contorted with anger, his jaw clenched in silent resolve as he held me captive with an iron grip. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as our eyes met in a silent exchange of defiance and determination. I could feel the sharp edge of the sword digging deeper into my skin, its cold bite serving as a chilling reminder of the imminent danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.

With a deliberate yet gentle motion, the man behind me raised his free hand to reached for the edges of the mask, his fingers grazing my skin with a feather-light touch. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he peeled back the fabric, revealing the face beneath to the startled gaze of the Princess standing before them.

As the mask slipped away, the Princess's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat as she beheld the familiar visage of the woman who had come to her aid in the night market.

A shiver run down my spine as the man behind me whispered angrily in my ear, his words laced with venom and fury. "You dare to lay your hand on my sister, the Princess of Midraysia?" his voice seethed with anger, each word dripping with disdain and contempt. "You will pay dearly for your insolence. I will ensure that."

Shock washed over my features as the realization dawned upon me - the man behind me was no ordinary individual, but one of the three princes themselves, a member of the royal family of Midraysia. In that moment, the gravity of her actions became painfully clear, the consequences looming ominously on the horizon.

With a voice steadied by determination and resolve, I whispered back to the prince, my words laced with a quiet but unwavering confidence. "I won't let this happen," she declared firmly, her voice carrying a note of defiance. "And as for you, you won't lay a hand on me. I'll take the Princess with me, and you can't stop me."

My words hung in the air, a silent challenge to the prince. With a swift movement, I raised my sword, the glint of steel reflecting the fire in my eyes as I prepared to defend myself against the royal adversary before me.

The prince's eyes narrowed with fury as he watched my stance, his lips curled into a snarl of contempt. In a swift and fluid motion, he raised his own sword, the blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light of the corridor as he prepared to face me in combat.