Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy) - Chapter 98: Chapter 98

Emeric slammed his fist against the wall. He could still hear the faint echo of the ballroom's music and laughter just beyond the corridor where he stood. The prince let out a frustrated scream, punching the wall over and over again until his knuckles were dripping blood.
He sank down against the wall, breathing heavily as he tried to let it all slip away, all the hurt, and pain, and hopelessness. There was only one emotion he allowed to remain, clinging to it like it was the last thing keeping him sane.
Anger.
A hot, seething anger that burned through his veins, numbing everything else.
At last, Emeric rose to his feet, letting the blood continue to spill from his rawed knuckles.
If he stayed out here, Wheeler would win - and there was no fucking way Emeric was going down without a fight. He was willing to do whatever it would take to return to the top, even if he had to scratch and claw his way there, hurting whoever he needed to so he could finally return to his rightful place.
Emeric proceeded to storm back into the ballroom, shoulders back and head held high. The party-goers watched, falling silent as he passed, their gazes seering into him. Emeric refused to let them see even a glimpse of weakness.
As he made his way towards his throne, he heard the rapid thud of footsteps rushing at him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Wheeler approaching, frantic and out of breath.
"Emeric," he stammered.
Emeric didn't acknowledge him, nor did he slow his pace, forcing Wheeler to scramble to keep up.
"Emeric, please," Wheeler continued desperately. "I promise, I had no idea about any of this. I don't even want to be emperor. I can try to talk with Father so he can understand that--"
"I don't need your pity, Brother," Emeric interrupted as he sank down into his throne.
The moment he did, a swarm of the dancing girls instantly flooded him, creating a barrier between him and Wheeler. His little brother refused to budge, remaining in place. Emeric could only catch glimpses of his expression through the moving silk cascading off the dancers' arms and shoulders. Despite this, there could be no mistaking the look on his face; his gaze so sympathetic it made Emeric want to vomit.
Wheeler felt sorry for him.
The expression struck Emeric harder than any slap to the face. It was humiliating, and degrading, and the very thing the prince had told Wheeler he didn't want. The thought that his brother had the goddamn nerve to pity him made his blood boil, the rage coming more violently than ever before.
Emeric wanted to hurt him. No...more than that....Emeric needed to hurt him. If he didn't, he felt like he might fucking explode. He couldn't do it directly, obviously. Luckily, Wheeler was so empathetic that someone close to him would work just as well—if not better.
His gaze tore across the ballroom, flashes of silks and limbs momentarily blocking his field of view. Finally, his attention locked on a pair of familiar purple eyes.
Wheeler's pretty advisor stood at the party's sidelines, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on Wheeler. Emeric looked from Mulock to his brother, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Mulock," Emeric called, his voice traveling across the room.
The advisor's head shot up, startled by his name being called. Wheeler's attention instantly snapped to Mulock as well, an unmistakable look of alarm flashing across his gaze.
Good.
That meant this might actually work.
"Come here," Emeric ordered flatly, gesturing for Mulock to come closer.
Mulock hesitated a moment before bowing his head. "Of course, Your Highness."
The advisor kept his gaze downcast as he approached, finally stepping up beside Wheeler. As he did, Emeric grabbed the arm of the girl dancing past him, shoving her forward.
"You two," Emeric said coldly, crossing one leg over the other as his gaze flitted between Mulock and the dancer. "Switch clothes."
Wheeler frantically jerked forward. "I'm the one you're angry with," he pleaded. "Take it out on me, not my advisor."
From the panicked expression on Wheeler's face, it seemed Emeric had indeed struck a nerve.
Perfect.
Wheeler's desperate pleas only made him crave more.
"There's no need to get so worked up, Brother." Emeric smirked. "Besides, I'm sure your advisor knows better than to disobey a royal order."
"Mully," Wheeler whispered hoarsely. "Don't do it."
"It'll be fine," Mulock replied, his gaze remaining downcast. "Wheel--" he caught himself, "Your Highness, it's easier if we just do as he says."
"Smart boy," Emeric murmured, his smirk continuing to grow. "For displaying such lovely obedience, I'll give you both the dignity of changing in another room. You can thank me later." Anger flared in Wheeler's gaze, which simply caused Emeric to chuckle. "Now go." He laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. "But be back soon or I might get impatient."
"Yes, Your Highness," Mulock and the dancer both dutifully replied, keeping their heads bowed before turning to depart.
As Mulock passed Wheeler, he offered him a tight smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
And with that, he and the dancer disappeared into the crowd.
Emeric glanced at Wheeler now, gesturing to a smaller chair beside him. "Come now, little brother. Why don't you have a seat while we wait?"
Might as well give Wheeler front row tickets to the show.