Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 232

Chapter 232: Chapter 232 Burden of Survival

Phoebe’s POV

A crushing wave of guilt slammed into me like a physical blow. My legs gave out, and I stumbled against the wall, using it to keep from collapsing completely. The overwhelming emotion hit me with the force of a bursting dam.

My chest constricted. Each breath felt like swallowing broken glass.

"Are you alright, my queen?" The warrior’s voice reached me through the haze of pain. He stepped closer but maintained respectful distance—touching royalty without permission was forbidden.

I lifted my head, knowing my face must look ghostly pale from the way his worry deepened.

’Yes, I’m fine,’ I mouthed the words and nodded, hoping he could understand my silent response.

After steadying myself against the stone wall, I straightened my spine. I had duties to fulfill, regardless of my emotional state.

Word had reached me that the healer had finally woken up. I prayed Marcela wouldn’t be sleeping when I arrived—I needed to see her alive, breathing, whole.

Relief flooded through me when I found her awake and alert. Marcela had just finished eating when she spotted me in the doorway.

"Oh, Phoebe!" She immediately scrambled out of bed to reach me, stumbling slightly in her haste.

That’s when I noticed it—the pronounced limp as she approached. My chest constricted painfully. This injury was my fault. All of it.

"I’ve been dying to visit you, but the healer here keeps insisting I can’t leave this room." Her frustration was evident in every word. "Please! I’m a healer myself. I know my own limits and what I can handle."

She continued complaining about the irony of being on the receiving end of medical orders, finally understanding what it felt like to be scolded by a fellow healer.

But my attention remained fixed on her injured leg. She caught me staring.

"This... it’s nothing that won’t heal," Marcela said, forcing lightness into her voice, though sadness leaked through despite her efforts. "I might walk with a slight limp from now on." She attempted a laugh, but there was no joy in the sound. "At least I’ll have a conversation starter at parties."

I could hear the deep sorrow she was desperately trying to hide beneath her jokes.

Unable to bear it any longer, I pulled Marcela into a fierce embrace, as if I could somehow transfer my guilt and apologize through touch alone. When the dam finally burst, tears came in torrents.

My body gave out completely. I crumpled to the floor in a heap of silk and sorrow. Marcela sank down with me, recognizing that I was too emotionally shattered to remain upright.

’I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’

The words tumbled from my lips repeatedly, guilt devouring me from the inside out. Marcela began crying too, unable to watch my anguish without being affected.

"No, stop. This isn’t your fault, Phoebe. None of this is your fault." Her voice cracked with emotion. "We’re alive. We’re safe now. That’s what matters most."

It took an eternity for me to stop shaking, even as Marcela held me protectively in her arms.

She kept repeating variations of the same theme—that Justin and Orion’s deaths weren’t my responsibility to bear.

"It was their duty, their honor to die protecting their queen. They fulfilled their purpose perfectly, and you cannot blame yourself for that. There’s no greater honor for a warrior than dying in service to the crown."

Intellectually, I understood this. Everyone always said the same thing when warriors fell in battle defending their rulers. It was the code they lived by, the death they trained for.

But understanding didn’t change the brutal reality—they were dead, and nothing could bring them back.

Nothing could undo the choices I’d made that led to this moment.

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