The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Twenty Six

All hell breaks loose.

Kneeling in the center of the room, watching beings centuries older than I am bicker like children and yell at each other in accusation might have been entertaining, if the subject of the matter wasn’t me.

I peer from face to face, thinking one of them is my mother. One of them made me and left me behind. How do I feel about that?

There are only six women of the sixteen royal houses.

Elara of House Vaelthorn. Raven hair. Onyx black irises that encompasses her entire eyes. Her skin is white as chalk with her lips as black as tar. Though seated, she looks as nearly as tall as the King and as she narrows those black eyes at me, there’s only a world of cold and death in her gaze.

Nope. Not my mother.

Serenya of House Blackspire. Flaming red hair. Eyes that burn the colour of flames and ash. Serene features and a graceful semblance to her that reminds me of a duck. She doesn’t speak, seemingly lost in her own world. Maybe a little stoned, if her dilated pupils say anything.

Lyssandra of House Stormrend. Hair of black and silver. Gaze mismatched like her hair in a manner that’s both unsettling and striking. There’s a bird perched on her shoulder, one she strokes absentmindedly as her tongue lashes in rebuke.

Thessaly of House Caelthorne. She’s... floating. I mean... she’s seated, legs crossed. On a floating pillow.

Veyra of House Solmire. She is the oldest of the sixteen. Or she appears so. Young and yet ancient. Ageless in a way that makes the skin want to crawl off my bones. Eyes completely white and empty. She blinks, staring right at me like she sees something the others cannot. She reminds me much of the priestesses back at Silvermoor. Those who had the gift of seeing and communing with the gods.

Lastly, Margot of House Draemont. Originally hailed from House Nythorn, she was the second wife of the Late King, Vaelor Draemont. And so happens to be King Lucien’s... distant... stepmother?

It is Margot who has me in a fix. Her open stare borders on murderous hate. She has a wicked beauty about her. A hint of colour graces her cheeks, large eyes of amber ringed with black is framed by thick golden locks, a tiny curl artfully arranged on her brow. Her skin is poreless, pale and smooth as the finest alabaster, but her lips are a full, obscene red. It is impossible to look away from her, but dread fills my belly, even as I stare.

It’s like looking into mirror at a much older version of myself with a dispassion and cruelty that only the understanding of ’forever’ can bring.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Thessaly snaps, bring the room to heel. "The boy is so obviously Margot’s."

I glance once more to the woman in question. She rises out of her chair, fingers lifting the skirts of her billowing gown. She is dressed in crimson, her corset snatching her waist to an abysmal width. "How many winters has it been since you were born?"

Thrown off by the question, it takes a few seconds to respond. "This is the nineteenth."

She turns and walks from me. "That is no bairn of mine. I haven’t been outside the wall in two hundred years. Not after I was captured and tortured within an inch of my life by those wretches, and you all know that."

"Perhaps, one of your children has done this."

Settling back in her seat, Margot turns a lethal stare to the speaker. A man named Malrik. "Zara was the only child of mine to march to war, and she is dead. Say another foolish word, Mal, and I’ll rip your tongue from your skull." To the king, she snarls, "And how are we so sure he is of royal blood?"

King Lucien shrugs. "He has begun dreamwalking."

Margot leans forward sharply in her seat as every accusatory glance sharpens onto her. "That is impossible!"

The King continues anyway, bored and yawning. "Only House Nythorn bears that ability and like all of the other Houses, the gifts have not been passed from parent to child in so many years, we’ve considered our link to the gods broken. However, this one," he nods to me. "Is the strongest I’ve encountered since you, Margot. He was, after all, able to break through my shield for a rather quick chat."

Every eye snaps to me, and something new shines in them. Even the sleeping woman seems to finally take notice of me.

As if reading my thoughts, the King’s lips curl into a smile that says, "Come. See where that ends.

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