Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 53

They Lowered the body into the ground.

The hollow thud of the casket against the waiting earth sent a shiver crawling up my spine. The air itself felt heavier here-thick with grief, with the damp scent of turned soil and dying roses. People around me sniffled into their sleeves, some weeping openly, others standing stiff and silent as if holding themselves upright was all they could manage.

I didn’t know the man they were burying.

All I knew was that he’d been the King’s personal doctor.

And now he was dead.

From what little I’d overheard, it had been sudden. An accident, someone whispered. Illness, someone else muttered. But their voices all carried the same edge of unease, a sharp undercurrent that made the back of my neck prickle. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t the kind of death people accepted easily.

Lucien hadn’t given me a choice about coming.

“As the King’s woman, it’s mandatory,” he’d said this morning in his clipped, soldier’s tone, his dark eyes daring me to argue.

I hadn’t.

Now I stood at the far edge of the gathering, half hidden by the shadow of an old oak, my black dress doing little to protect me from the chill that threaded through the gray afternoon. I kept my eyes on the ground, on the restless shifting of feet, the soft crunch of damp grass beneath polished shoes.

The King wasn’t here.

That fact alone sent a ripple of unease through me.Across the grave, a young woman with long, pale hair was being consoled by a small cluster of people. Hands pressed to her shoulders.

Murmured words of comfort. She nodded politely, her face a mask of composure that cracked only when she looked down at the casket.

Something about her made the air shift.

Not her beauty, though she was beautiful in the way that draws every eye without even trying. Her skin was porcelain pale, her hair a soft fall of sunlight in the gloom, her posture so effortlessly graceful it made the rest of us look clumsy. No, it wasn’t that. It was something… deeper.

A quiet intensity. A gravity.

Even the wind seemed to move differently around her, as though the world itself leaned in to listen when she breathed.

* I should have stayed where I was.

But I didn’t.

Before I knew it, my legs were moving, carrying me through the thinning crowd until stood beside her. The last of the mourners had drifted away, their murmured condolences fading into the gray silence, leaving only the two of us and the yawning grave between us.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said softly, my voice barely louder than the rustling of leaves.

She turned her head toward me. Her eyes-startlingly green, sharp as cut glass-studied me for a long, silent beat. Then, to my surprise, she smiled.

“We’re all going to die someday,” she said, her tone light but threaded with something I couldn’t name. “Just… different times.”

The words weren’t exactly untrue, but the way she said them…It was like she was sharing a private joke. A joke I wasn’t sure | wanted to understand.

A chill slid down my spine.

Before I could find a response, she bent gracefully and dropped a single red rose onto the mound of fresh earth. The petals stood out in stark, vivid contrast against the dark soil, a splash of blood on a wound.

“He was the only one always there for me,” she said, her voice softer now, almost tender. “I hate that I wasn’t there for his last moment.”

Her gaze lingered on the rose. “When I was sad, he’d always remind me of the rose. How beautiful it was, yet still armed with thorns.” She turned those sharp green eyes on me again, a faint, unsettling smile curving her lips. “I am that rose.”

i blinked, unsure how to respond.

Was this grief? A confession? A warning?

The silence stretched, heavy with meaning I couldn’t decipher. My throat tightened with questions I didn’t dare ask.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Emilia Gregor,” she said softly, as though it was a promise. Or a threat.

Before I could respond, she released my hand and turned away, her movements smooth and deliberate, like a dancer gliding across a stage.

I watched her walk toward the waiting car at the edge of the cemetery, the black umbrella she carried a stark silhouette against the pale sky.Something about her lingered even after she disappeared—a scent, a shadow, a quiet warning that clung to the air long after she was gone.

My heart thudded, a little too fast.

Something was wrong with that woman.

I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t name it.

But I felt it.

Deep in my bones.

**********

The ride back to the palace was a blur of gray trees and colder thoughts. Lucien drove in silence, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw tight. I caught his gaze in the rearview mirror once, but whatever saw there-wariness, maybe even worry-vanished before I could be sure.

Back in my chambers, I sank onto the edge of the bed, the image of Doctor Raina’s strange smile replaying in my mind like a broken record.

A rose with thorns.

Setting things right.

What did she mean?

And why did it feel as if her words were meant for me?