Chapter 83 83
Venessa’s POV
We remained with the King for some time, and his excitement about the treatment I had proposed was impossible to miss. There was a lightness to him I hadn’t seen before hope, fragile but real.
Denzel made it clear we shouldn’t speak of the matter again until we were safely outside the Kingdom. I understood his caution and respected it.
Not long after, the Queen entered the chamber to check on her husband.
“You’re still here, Denzel?” she asked, surprise threading her voice when she noticed us by the King’s side.
“I asked them to stay,” King Jamar said calmly.
She released a tired sigh.
“You need to rest,” she insisted.
He shook his head.
“I’ve been cooped up in this room for far too long. Too much is happening out there.”
The Queen moved closer, sitting beside him and pressing her palm to his forehead with gentle familiarity.
“You really should rest, Your Majesty.”
He laughed softly, the sound breaking into a cough.
“I’m dying anyway. I’d rather enjoy whatever time I have left than spend it drugged and miserable.”
Then his gaze sharpened as he looked at her.
“In fact, I’ll be taking a trip tonight. I’ll be away for a month.”
Her reaction was immediate.
“You can’t,” she exclaimed.
His expression darkened as he frowned at her.
“And when did you start deciding what I can and cannot do?”
She visibly restrained herself before speaking again.
“What about your medication? Your treatment?”
He smiled faintly.
“It’s not helping much, but you can tell the physician to pack it all. I’ll take it with me.”
I wasn’t sure whether Denzel and I should still be present for such a private exchange, but neither of them asked us to leave.
“You can’t go, Your Majesty,” the Queen said, fear seeping into her voice. “Fabian is after your throne. What if he attacks you?”
“Enough, Rochelle,” he said firmly. “I’m going on this trip whether you approve or not.”
She lowered her head slightly before trying again.
“Then at least take Jahlil and the physician with you. Someone must ensure you’re protected and cared for.”
“I’m going alone,” the King replied without hesitation. “I want one month of freedom. No titles. No one knowing who I am. Denzel will drop me off where I choose.”
Her gaze shifted to us where Denzel and I sat quietly on the couch near the bed.
“Denzel just got married,” she pointed out. “I’m sure they’d prefer to head straight home.”
Denzel leaned forward immediately.
“I’d do anything for His Majesty,” he said earnestly. “He’s like a father to me. If he wants me to drop him off somewhere before we head home, I’m more than willing. It won’t be a burden.”
She studied him, then nodded.
“Very well. Do as you wish, Jamar. Just promise me you’ll return alive and well.”
She paused. “I’ll have the physician pack your medications.”
She rose to her feet, though worry clung to her every movement.
“Do you mind leaving now?” King Jamar asked Denzel, urgency creeping into his voice.
I understood immediately. Knowing he was being poisoned by those closest to him had shaken his sense of safety within his own walls. Still, I worried about how the Queen would process this sudden departure.
“Your Majesty, this is very short notice,” Queen Rochelle protested.
He shook his head once. I felt the subtle brush of a mind-link pass between him and Denzel words I wasn’t privy to.
“It’s an order,” he said firmly. “We leave tonight.”
I understood then. He wasn’t being impulsive he was being strategic. Leaving immediately meant giving the culprits no time to regroup or act. It was smart.
“Yes, of course,” Denzel said, rising to his feet. “Venessa and I can manage.”
“Good,” the King replied. “Let’s go now.”
He turned back to the Queen.
“If the medications aren’t ready, have the physician write prescriptions. I’ll purchase them myself.”
She looked as though she wanted to argue, but his sharp glare silenced her. With clear reluctance, she turned and left to carry out his instructions.
He doesn’t want to give them time to plan, Denzel mind-linked me.
I had already reached the same conclusion.
The physician soon arrived with an assortment of drugs and tonics, visibly distressed. He tried to frighten the King into staying mentioning seizures, comas, and worsening deterioration but King Jamar remained unmoved.
Eventually, the doctor conceded. He carefully explained the dosage and timing of each medication before leaving, and the King thanked him politely.
I made a silent note to have every substance tested once we returned home.
King Jamar dressed swiftly. As preparations continued, I learned he had transferred command to the fathers of his Gamma and Delta.
The Queen was clearly insulted and hurt but he refused to reconsider.
It was a calculated decision.
If anything happened to him, leadership would fall immediately into experienced hands.
And for the first time since I’d met him, King Jamar wasn’t waiting to die.
He was choosing to live.