Chapter 35 The King’s Confusion
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King's pov
The heavy velvet curtains of my room were pulled back, letting the morning sun shine across Victoria’s sleeping body. It was the perfect picture of a life fixed, yet Carlus stood by the door. His presence was like an itch I couldn't scratch.
"What could possibly be so urgent that I must leave my Luna’s side?" I asked, my voice low so I wouldn't wake her. "This was meant to be our day. The palace is finally at peace."
Carlus didn't move. "Sire, with all respect, it has been a week since you got better. You are walking through your own kingdom like a stranger. If you do not walk the grounds, if you do not get your memories back, how long can we keep up this act?"
I looked at him, feeling a bit annoyed. Memories. Everyone spoke of them like they were expensive jewels I had dropped in the mud. "I have my wife. I have my son, William. The kingdom is doing well. What else is there to remember that is so important you feel the need to follow me like a ghost?"
"The healers were clear, Majesty," Carlus said, his eyes avoiding mine. "We cannot just tell you the truth. You must find the path back to your own mind, or the throne will never truly be yours again."
"Fine," I snapped, the weight of his nagging finally making me give in.
"Don't worry, my love," Victoria’s voice came from the bed, soft as silk. She sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. "I will walk with you. We shall find those lost pieces together."
I felt the tightness leave my shoulders as I looked at her. "For you, I would tear this world apart," I whispered, reaching for her hand. Together, we began our walk through the palace—the King and his Queen, back from the edge of death.
But as we entered the Great Hall, the air changed. It felt thin and strange. I looked at the faces of the people—all bowing, all looking away—until my eyes caught a person standing near the bottom of the stairs.
A girl.
She was pale, her skin almost see-through against the dark fabric of her dress. She wasn't bowing. Instead, she was waving—a small, shy move that felt sickeningly familiar. She looked... different. Her features had a sharp, foreign beauty, a 'ginger' fire that didn't belong to the people of Prussia.
A sharp pinch twisted in my chest. Why was she looking at me with such huge expectation?
"Carlus," I murmured, my eyes fixed on her. "Who is that? Why does she stand there as if we share a secret?"
Before Carlus could speak, Victoria’s grip on my arm got tighter. Her nails bit slightly into my skin. "She is no one important, Deacon. Just a maid who liked her job too much while you were sick."
I frowned. "A maid? She is dressed in the expensive silks of a noble. And she looks... she looks as though she’s waiting for me."
"Trust me, Sire," Victoria whispered, her voice like a calming lotion over the growing trouble in my mind. "She is a shadow of your fever. Remember what the Council said—you must hide your mistakes. If you show confusion now, the enemies will attack. Act with strength. Act as if you know exactly who is worth your time."
I straightened my back. She was right. A King does not hesitate before a stranger. I turned my head away, looking at the end of the hallway, and walked past her. I felt her there like a heat source as I passed—I heard her catch her breath, the sound of her dress—but I gave her nothing.
"Your Highness."
The voice hit me like a physical punch. It wasn't loud, but it had a terrifying weight. It felt like a command written into my very bones. I stopped dead. Behind me, I felt Victoria’s sharp breath, her trying to make me keep moving, but my feet felt like lead.
I turned back to the girl. "How dare you speak to me with such rudeness? Who are you to stop the King?"
Her eyes were wide, filled with a hurt so deep it made my stomach turn. "Since I have become a ghost to you," she said, her voice shaking but clear, "you haven't seen me in weeks. You didn't even care to ask where I was."
A wave of protective anger—or maybe it was guilt disguised as anger—flashed through me. "Ask of you? Are you my wife? My family?" I stepped toward her, my shadow covering her small frame. "If you dare cross my path again with these lies, I will make sure you never see the light of another day. You are an intruder in my house."
"But, King Deacon—" Carlus started, his face pale.
"Enough!" I roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "Take her out of my palace. Now!"
I watched, a strange, empty ache growing in my ribs, as the guards stepped forward. They grabbed her arms—the same arms that had been waving at me moments ago. I saw the two servants behind her, Elio and Kelvin, looking at me with a hate so raw it felt like a slap.
As they dragged her toward the heavy wood doors, her collar moved. The light hit her neck, showing a mark—dark, detailed, and glowing with the clear power of an Alpha’s claim.
My breath stopped. An Alpha mark? My mind raced to find the logic. If she were important, I wouldn't have forgotten. If she were mine, she would be beside me. This was a trick—someone trying to use my weak state.
I turned my back on her screams, forcing my legs to move. She is nothing, I told myself. Victoria is here. The nightmare is over.
But as I reached the end of the hall, a white-hot spear of pain exploded behind my eyes.
The world blurred. I saw a girl dancing—not here, but in a land of dust and gold. I saw myself standing over her, the weight of a crown heavy on my head, my own voice echoing from a memory I hadn't asked for.
"I want her," my younger, hungrier self whispered in the vision. "I want her as my hundredth mate."
The memory broke. I stumbled, holding my head as the palace walls seemed to tip over.
"Stop!" I gasped, the word ripped from my throat as the wor
ld went black at the edges. "Stop!"