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.

The grief remained. The guilt would always be there.

But underneath those familiar emotions, something harder was crystallizing.

By the time we returned to the palace, word of the attack had already reached the council chambers. Several elders were requesting an immediate audience with me.

Alpha Wallace’s expression darkened when he delivered this news. "I can refuse them, my queen. Claim you’re still too weak to receive visitors."

But Marcela shook her head firmly before I could respond.

"No. That’s exactly what they want—for her to appear weak and incapable." Her healer’s intuition had shifted into political strategist mode. "They’re testing her resolve. If she hides now, they’ll use it as ammunition against both her and the king when he returns."

She was absolutely right. The elders, particularly Elder Augustus, were like vultures circling wounded prey. Any sign of weakness would be weaponized.

"The king will return in a few days," Marcela continued, meeting my eyes directly. "You can handle whatever they throw at you until then. But you need to show them you’re still their queen."

As I considered their words, I felt that hard thing inside my chest solidify into something resembling resolve.

Justin and Orion had died protecting their queen.

It was time their queen started acting like one.

I straightened my spine and looked directly at Alpha Wallace. When I spoke, my voice was steady despite everything I’d been through.

"Gather them in the throne room. All of them." I paused, making sure he understood the weight of my decision. "It’s time I reminded the elders exactly who they’re dealing with."