Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 88

I couldn’t sit still.

I’d been pacing the throne room for hours, my boots dragging against the marble floor, the sound echoing through the empty hall like thunder. My fingers ran through my hair again and again, tugging hard enough to hurt, but not nearly enough to drown out the storm inside my head.

The image wouldn’t leave me-the way Emilia looked at me before she screamed for me to leave. That look… goddess, it burned. Like she’d ripped open my chest and poured salt on the wound. Hatred. Fear.

Disgust.

And I couldn’t even blame her.

Lucien stood by the wall, watching me in silence. He’d been standing there for what felt like forever, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. The weight of his stare was heavy, like he was holding back a thousand words.

Finally, he broke the silence. “This is… so complicated,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t even know how to help you right now.”

I stopped pacing and turned to him. My voice came out rough, almost a growl. “It just happened, okay? My beast took over. The need to claim her…was…was too fucking strong, and before I could stop myself, l marked her.”

Lucien exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Goddess help us.” He stepped closer, his tone turning sharper. “Do you realize what you’ve done? There’s already chaos with the Shadows stealing faces, Soraya’s been restless about Miranda’s spirit stirring again, and Raina your mate. And now you’ve gone and put your mark on Emilia?”

“Great,” I snapped, glaring at him. “You’ve listed every single one of my problems in undera minute.’

Lucien frowned. “Don’t get defensive with me, Your Majesty. You and I both know this isn’t something you can just brush aside. You’ve practically declared war on yourself.”

I turned away from him and started pacing again, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. Every word he said was true, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. The mark was already pulsing beneath my skin, a living reminder of my mistake. I could still taste her blood, still feel the way she trembled in my arms before everything went to hell.

Lucien let out a heavy sigh and sank into one of the chairs near the wall. “This is bad,” he said quietly. “Like, bad bad bad.”

I didn’t respond.

I couldn’t.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Emilia. The way she threw herself in front of Damien, shielding him from me. The way her voice cracked when she screamed my name.

She looked at me like I was a monster.

And maybe I was.

My chest ached as I remembered the way she’d said go-that single word felt like a blade slicing through my ribs. She didn’t just want me gone. She wanted me erased. Like everything that had ever existed between us was a mistake.

I dropped into my throne, the weight of it pressing down on me. My head throbbed. My hands trembled slightly as I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing.

Despite the chaos, despite the guilt clawing at me, a part of me-some dark, broken part-didn’t regret marking her.

The timing was wrong. Everything about it was wrong.

But the act itself… it felt right. Too right. Like something ancient and unstoppable had finally snapped into place.

“Your Majesty,” Lucien’s voice broke through my thoughts, cautious now, almost gentle. “What are you going to do when Raina finds out?”

1 froze.

The question hit me like a punch.

He leaned forward, his voice low. “You know she will. And when she does-what then? What if she tries to reject you?”

“Send out invitations.” My voice was calm now-too calm.

Lucien blinked. “Invitations?”

“Yes,” I said, my tone hard. “To every pack across the kingdom. I want everyone-alphas, betas, omegas, elders, children-everyone to gather at the royal hall tomorrow night.”

He frowned, confused. “For what? What’s going on?”

I held his gaze, my jaw tightening.

“You’ll see,” I said quietly.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Your Majesty, don’t do something reckless.

You’ve already got half the kingdom on edge-”

“I said,” I interrupted, my voice dropping to a growl, “you’ll see.”

The air between us grew heavy, thick with tension.

Lucien stared at me for a long moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered. “But whatever you’re planning; I hope you know what you’re doing.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know.