Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 66

Standard POV Format

I watched Reginald from the edge of the training grounds, the way a predator studies a new animal in the herd. He sparred well enough to fit in, but nothing about him shouted ambition or hunger. What gnawed at me wasn’t skill — it was presence. The bastard had already wormed himself into the little circles of newly recruited warriors, laughing and angling his way close to others like he owned whatever he touched.

Flynn’s voice cut into my thoughts. “What’s eating you?”

He still hadn’t forgiven me for the warrior. He thought I’d crossed a line. Maybe I had. Maybe I didn’t care. I let the question hang and kept watching. The man’s popularity bothered me. People who fit too easily in new places had a way of showing up where they weren’t wanted.

“You still on that?” Flynn pushed. He wanted an explanation I didn’t owe him. The elders wanted a public presentation of my mate; instead I delayed. Timing was crucial. I’d present her when it served me — not to soothe bored gossipmongers.

“Handle things here,” I told him and left the field. I needed to move.

Standard POV Format

I sat on the windowsill and watched a world I didn’t belong to. Timothy’s words about Perry’s past kept looping in my head like a poisoned song. Each detail cut through me: starvation, mutilation, a child forced to watch the worst kinds of cruelty. The image of Cordelia flayed alive while a boy looked on burned under my skin.

Compared to that, my own past — Kevin, my father’s coldness — felt like ragged edges instead of the deep wound I’d thought it was. It didn’t take away my pain; it just rearranged it. Suddenly I could see him not only as a monster but also as the scarred boy the world had made into something else.

Mason popped in with another vial. “You’re burning through this fast,” she whispered. Her concern was practical and human — the only warmth I’d received in weeks.

“Don’t worry,” I lied and accepted the bottle. The more I handled the poison, the harder breathing became. Maybe that was the cost of living inside my plan. Maybe that numbness was what I’d chosen.

“Why is Reginald even here?” I asked after a long silence.

Perry’s thoughts again

Phoebe’s lips trembled. “They say he’s leading the warriors when the time comes. I don’t know the date.” Her voice was small. Fear saturated it.

A slow, dangerous thought spread through me: if the palace had traitors disguised as servants and warriors, if they’d planned and hidden, then every quiet face in this place could be the next snake.

I kept my anger for other things. The king’s job was to be the blunt instrument. But this? This called for careful knives.