The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 59

Chapter 59: Fifty Nine

*Valka*

Prince Cyrus left without me. Without a goodbye. I wasn’t surprised by it.

Because by the time I finally roused from the bed, eyes puffed, soul drained, body sore, the rumor had spread through the castle like wildfire.

The maids who washed me talked about it in hushed whispers. They laugh at me when I transverse the hallways the next day. The courtiers stare and point, hiding their laughter behind their fingers. They say I bled the king’s sheets red. They say I’d done so horribly in his bed that I’d lost his favour. Some say he was so disgusted by me, he couldn’t stand the sight of me.

I’d never had a good reputation here to start with. But I preferred being a prisoner, being known as the one who killed men, than a tramp who parted her legs like a common whore and got ditched right after.

But never looked at me.

Days bled into each other. I stopped sitting near anyone at meals. I skipped training twice, then three times, then stopped going entirely. My body ached, a dull, constant throb, but it was nothing compared to the hollow that spread through my chest.

I had thought humiliation would come with anger. That I’d throw my cup in his face or hurl words sharp enough to cut. Instead, it came with silence. I spoke less. Ate less. Laughed not at all. And so, it didn’t matter how many times Evadne knocked on my door. I just couldn’t bring myself to speak to her. Or anyone, really.

Once, I ran into him alone in the courtyard. Sometime late in the morning, when the sheets had felt too hot on my skin and the walls had begun closing in on me, and I’d run to catch a breath.

In one hand, he carried an empty goblet, tipped over absentmindedly, like he’d forgotten he still held it. The left half of his face was painted in gold glitter and an earring dangled off the tip of his ear. And he’d swayed slightly on his feet, blinking at me with drunken confusion.

And then, he’d flashed a blinding white grin. "Ah, if it isn’t the sly little witch." And then, he tripped on his garments and landed by my feet. "Lying in the dirt now, am I?" he murmured, glancing up at me. "Typical of your kind, but far beneath my...gravitas."

Without thinking it over, I’d crouched to help him up. "How much have you been drinking?"

"Enough to stomach looking at you." His voice sounded light, conversational, but it dropped like a stone in my stomach and my fingers curled back from where they hovered inches away from gripping his arm. He shifted his glance to the flowers. "I do not remember what she smelled like anymore." He stared at the flowers, roses of several colours, flowers I’d never seen or known before coming here. "She planted those herself, you know. Every time she got mad and spiraled out of control, seconds away from setting me on fire, she’d purchase these little seeds and dig up the earth, even if we had all the servants to do the job. She’d plant them, nurture them. Admittedly, there was nothing much she could do, not while she was being held against her will."

He snorted at his own words. And I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know if he still realized I was crouching beside him.

After a moment, he seemed to come back to himself. His eyes focused on me, glittering in the dark. He reached for me, catching a strand of my hair and combed it through his fingers softly.

That handed glided down, cupping my cheek gently, tilting my head all the way back until I couldn’t tell which was more beautiful. The stars that lit the skies or his eyes. "For both our sakes," he says, voice honeyed. "Stay out of my gardens. Stay out of my path. Stay out of my sight." A sharp claw ran against my roaring pulse and he stared pointedly at it. "I cannot promise I will not kill you the next time I see you."

One tear rolled down my cheek and I hated it. How feeble I felt. "Why not kill me then? Banish me? Throw me out, so you never have to see my face again."

His eyes followed the tear track with tunnel vision and he seemed to find it pleasing enough, because he leaned in and kissed it off my cheek. His lips were warm but the kiss was cold. "Because as much as I despise you, I still need you."

"Because I am just a tool," I breathed, a shudder wracking my body.

"Precisely."

I didn’t see him again for the rest of the week.

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