Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 157

Phoebe’s POV

“You look absolutely breathtaking, my lady,” Marcela murmurs, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Since Mason’s untimely death, I have resolutely decided against allowing another omega to fill the role of my personal maid. The thought of growing close to anyone in that position felt utterly unthinkable. Mason’s absence has left a wound that runs deeper than I am willing to admit.

This is precisely why Marcela has chosen to remain by my side, stepping into that role with unwavering loyalty. Along with Lynn and Rosa, who often seek guidance from the healer, I find no need for additional companionship. They are more than enough for me.

Timothy also makes occasional visits to share a few words. Their presence is all I require.

“The king will be utterly enchanted by you,” Marcela beams, her excitement palpable. “The ceremony begins in just two hours. Are you ready?”

I doubt I will ever truly feel ready, but I nod in response, forcing a smile.

The crimson dress clings to my figure flawlessly. This sacred hue belongs solely to our kingdom, a privilege reserved exclusively for the king and queen on this momentous day.

The rich color complements my complexion and enhances my brown hair beautifully. My hair is intricately braided, meticulously styled in preparation for the crown that will soon rest upon my head.

“It’s time, my lady,” announces an omega, directing her words to both Marcela and me.

From this moment onward, I must walk alone towards the sacred temple, where I will be crowned and officially declared queen of this realm.

A sea of faces awaits my arrival.

Steady. Steady. Steady.

I repeat these words like a soothing mantra in my mind.

If I could, I would take Marcela with me for moral support, but that is strictly forbidden.

This path is mine and mine alone. This journey is my passage to my mate.

At the end of this route, Perry awaits me, and I must forge ahead. I cling to this thought, using it as a lifeline to keep myself from faltering.

The dress flows behind me like an endless river, requiring two omegas to assist with the train until I step into the sacred temple.

One hundred steps lie before me, leading to the chamber where the ceremony will unfold.

I have rehearsed this ascent countless times, but never while wearing this heavy gown, so I proceed with deliberate caution.

Inhale. Exhale.

I silently coach myself, willing my legs to move forward.

As I finally reach the top step, the grand temple unfolds before me, filled with countless expectant faces.

Forty-three packs exist within this kingdom. Seven have committed acts of treason, yet the remaining thirty-six stand in unwavering support of the crown. Representatives from each of these loyal packs have gathered to honor their new queen.

As I make my entrance, a chorus of voices rises in unison, chanting my name. This ancient tradition creates hauntingly beautiful harmonies that envelop me, guiding me further into the temple, where Perry stands at the far end, waiting for me.

Perry reaches out, his hand grasping mine firmly. He is offering me strength, a promise that I will never again have to face pain alone.

He is my mate for this life and the next.

Tricia stands before us, ready to officiate the ceremony, while Timothy takes on the role of fire bearer. The gamma’s position is crucial, as he will mark the king.

My stomach churns at the sight of the glowing rod in Timothy’s hands. I’ve implored Perry to skip this brutal segment of the ceremony, to forgo it entirely.

But it is an impossibility. This tradition has endured for thousands of years. More importantly, he desires it. He wishes to be branded so that all may know he belongs to me.

While female shifters receive their mate’s mark, male shifters endure branding—though only the royal line maintains this custom.

“…and now, we crown our queen! Queen Phoebe!”

Tricia’s voice reverberates through the sacred temple.

Someone approaches, cradling an exquisite crown upon a velvet cushion.

The guests have fallen silent since Tricia began to speak.

This moment signifies the last time I will kneel before anyone other than my king, for once this crown is placed upon my head, I shall bow to no one.

Perry holds my hand as I lower myself to receive the crown.

“Long live the queen!”