Page 19 of Alpha's Exiled Mate

I realized from the maid’s frightened expression that I was laughing, but it was far from a smile—it was a mocking, cold sneer.

One thing was certain.

This woman was definitely not Viossi Thornfield.

Chapter 6

Lilia

I curled up in the vast bedroom of the palace’s east wing. A week had passed since that terrible moment in Perock’s study—his hand around my throat, his icy gaze cutting through me like a blade.

The memory lingered, a bruise on my heart that throbbed with every quiet moment. I was a bird in a gilded cage, my purpose reduced to waiting for the full moon’s fleeting embrace, a vessel for a duty I barely understood.

“Your Highness, you should rest,” Susie’s gentle voice came from the doorway, soft with concern.

I turned, mustering a faint smile. “Thank you, Susie, but I’d like to stay up a little longer.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer, setting a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. “It’s herbal tea,” she said quietly. “It’ll help you sleep. I’ve noticed you haven’t been resting well.”

I took the cup, its warm, earthy scent of chamomile and lavender loosening the knot in my chest, if only slightly. “Thank you,” I murmured, grateful for her kindness in a world that felt so cold.

“Susie,” I said after a pause, keeping my tone light, as if the question were casual, “do you know much about Prince Perock?”

Her hands stilled as she adjusted the pillows, her eyes meeting mine with a cautious look. “No one truly knows His Highness, Your Highness. He’s… guarded.”

“Does he have any interests? Hobbies?” I pressed, desperate for any fragment of who he was beneath the ice.

She considered for a moment. “They say he enjoys riding horses and reading, but few have seen him at ease. Not since…” She faltered, her gaze flickering with uncertainty.

“Since what?” I asked, my voice barely above a murmur, catching her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. My heart quickened, a sudden unease settling in my chest like a stone.

Susie sighed, her breath trembling as it escaped her lips. Her gaze darted nervously to the corners of the room, as if expecting someone—or something—to emerge from the darkness. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper, barely audible over the faint crackle of the fireplace. “Since he learned about his curse, Your Highness. He’s kept his emotions locked away, buried deep where no one can reach them.”

“Curse?” The word slipped from my lips like a shard of ice, sending a shiver down my spine. My fingers tightened around the delicate porcelain teacup, the warmth of the liquid inside doing little to ease the sudden chill that gripped me. I could feel the weight of her words pressing against me, heavy with implications I couldn’t yet grasp.

“What kind of curse, Susie? Tell me.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came at first. Her eyes flickered with something akin to fear—or perhaps pity—before she spoke again, her voice so low I had to strain to hear. “It’s...It’s not my place to say, Your Highness. But… it’s tied to his blood, to his very soul. It’s why he keeps everyone at a distance. Even you.”

The words struck me like a physical blow, and the teacup nearly slipped from my grasp. A curse tied to his soul? The idea of him enduring such silent agony, unseen by the world that revered him, pierced me with a sorrow I couldn’t name.

All those moments I’d seen him withdraw, his piercing gaze turning cold and distant—had they been cries of a soul bound by something unspeakable?

I turned to face Susie directly, the urgency in my voice betraying my fear and the ache in my chest. “There must be more you can tell me. Please, Susie. I need to know.”

She leaned closer, her words barely audible. “The prince was cursed at birth to die before thirty. The old king’s first queen, consumed by vengeance, cast it before she was overthrown.”

Her revelation stole the breath from my lungs. “Is there… a way to break it?” I said.

“They say the only way is for him to have a child before the deadline,” Susie replied, her voice heavy with sorrow. “The child would take on part of the curse, extending his life. That’s why he’s taken so many brides.”

“How much time does he have left?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Five years...Maybe less,” she said, her eyes soft with sadness. “His four previous wives… none conceived during their short marriages. Some say the curse claimed them too.”

I closed my eyes, a storm raging in my heart. A curse? This was the shadow that always lingered in Perock’s gaze, the painful secret hidden beneath his cold exterior. His iciness, his cruelty, his desperate actions in constantly seeking a bride—everything suddenly had a heartbreaking explanation.

My hands trembled slightly, my nails digging deep into my palms, but I barely felt the pain.