The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52: Fifty Two

Valka

My nights have been dreamless lately. Perhaps, it is why walking past these doors feel somewhat real. Like I have tumbled into bed and merely awoken in a different verse.

I transverse the hallways of the Silvermoor castle, passing by statue after statue of the moon goddess and her cubs, a crown of moon and stars circling over her head, her heavy hand stretched forth upon the earth.

My eyes linger on the depiction of Thane for a moment before my legs carry me forward, towards the sound of shattering glass and angry, female shrieking.

I slip through the crack in the chambers white doors and find the room a mess of broken vases, plates and shards. The maids lurk in the shadows, head bowed, trembling. The scent of their fear is thick and heavy.

"Do you have any idea what I have given for this kingdom, boy?" a soft voice says.

I turn to the sound of it and find Rafael on his knees, at the center of the mess, in front of a woman. She is bent with age, her hair a thick mass of white and copper. When she turns to face him, my heart stalls. The right half of her face is heavily scared. Deep, black scars that narrowly missed leaving her without an eye.

And down her neck, the entire right of her body is covered in different kind of scars. Mottled, dead looking flesh. They resemble burn scars, but with a ghostly pallor, as though the flesh had been seared by winter itself. Crystalline veins stretch underneath, stretching lower and lower, down to her bare feet.

She points at her face. "This!" she snarls. "You think you are strong because of the Alpha blood in your veins?" she laughs, leaning down to seize his chin. Her eyes glint with malice and I see they are the same stormy grey as Rafe’s. "No. You are what you are because of the sacrifices I made. Because of what I stole from the beast himself. No one else could’ve done it. But I did. It was my duty, they told me. To conceive the seed of a monster. To make the Draemir blood the most superior. He nearly killed me, but I did it."

A cruel sneer peels back from her teeth. "I birthed your father. He was just as useless as you are. But where he lacked purpose and the heart to do what was needed when necessary, I believed you had a smidge of it in you. But you are nothing but a fool."

"Grandmother, I--"

Her wrist snaps and his head jerks to the side, claws raking along Rafe’s left cheek. "You ran from the enemy. And a simple girl won you a victory you could never have taken for yourself. You had her killed to hide this. And that is hardly even the problem. Two things, foolish child. Two things." Her eyes flash. "An Omega with the blood of monsters, strong enough to manifest that strength, when an Alpha like you cannot. Have you any idea what that means?"

Rafe’s head hangs low and there is an edge of bitterness to his voice as he says, "She is better than I’ll ever be."

The woman laughs. "Yes, boy, but that isn’t nearly all it is. It means, the blood in her was strong enough to overpower the wolf in her. It means, she was a rarity. A treasure to be kept and bred for many years, for more like her. She would have been what we needed to finally be the the superior race. And you killed her." She clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Even worse, you were stupid enough not to cover your own tracks. You know what they call you when you turn your back? A cockless swine." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Forgive me."

The old woman’s lips thin. "You will curb these rumors, no matter the cost. Or I will have you *replaced* with someone more fitting." A pause. "On your feet. A king kneels to no one."

Rafael straightens, the gashes on his bleeding cheek knitting themselves together. His face is an unreadable mask of nothingness.

She turns around. "Have you heard back from our spies in Ebonheart?"

He cocks his head, considering. "Not yet."

"They’ve been compromised," she grumbles. "Is the infantry ready to finally release at the end of term? And how many of those abominations do we have?"

"Ten thousand," he responds systematically with disinterest, like a puppet. His eyes have a far off look and the crown settled on his head has a reddened tinge to it. I follow his gaze to the sword lying discarded in the corner, his fingers twitching to use it.

She smiles at that, seemingly content with the numbers as she itches the scar on her face. "Then we march. In six months."

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