Page 62 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
“Is she?” I asked softly, my voice tinged with a bittersweet awareness. Her skill likely came from him, her father’s blood flowing through her veins, his innate grace and strength manifesting in her small, fearless form.
“She has a fearless heart,” Perock said, nodding, his gaze warm as he watched her. Then he turned to Anna, his tone playful. “Little princess, want to go a bit faster?”
“Yes!” Anna cheered, her amber eyes gleaming in the sunlight, so like Perock’s in their intensity, their golden glow catching the light in a way that stole my breath.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound, and urged Berry into a gentle trot, Anna’s delighted squeals echoing through the arena as she bounced in the saddle, her smile radiant, her hair bouncing with each step. I walked alongside, my eyes never leaving her, my hands ready to catch her if needed, but Perock’s careful handling reassured me, his focus entirely on her safety and joy.
Watching them, I noticed how Perock didn’t press Anna for more than she was ready for, how he let her set the pace, his attention wholly devoted to her comfort. He wasn’t pushing to claim her, wasn’t probing her origins or seeking to uncover her secrets. Instead, he was earning her trust naturally, withkindness and patience, qualities I hadn’t seen in him five years ago, when his pride had blinded him to those around him.
After about half an hour, Anna’s energy began to wane, her posture slumping slightly, her eyelids drooping despite her efforts to stay alert. I stepped forward to help her down, my arms outstretched, but Perock was faster, lifting her gently from the saddle with a care that spoke of instinct, his voice warm with praise. “You’re the most talented young rider I’ve ever seen,” he said, ruffling her hair with a gentle hand, his smile broad and genuine.
Anna giggled, impulsively hugging his arm, her shyness melting away under his warmth. “Thank you, Your Majesty!” she said, her voice bright, her face flushed with pride.
“There’s no need for formalities—just call me Perock,” he replied with a warm, reassuring tone, his demeanor kind and approachable. Then, turning to me with a respectful nod, he continued, “Princess Lilia, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to invite you and young Princess Anna to join me for lunch tomorrow. I know of a lovely gazebo in the gardens with a breathtaking view—it would be the perfect spot for a picnic.” His invitation was sincere, his eyes reflecting a genuine desire to spend time with us.
I hesitated, my instincts warring—caution urging me to keep my distance, Anna’s hopeful gaze tugging at my heart, her joy a weight I couldn’t ignore. “We’d be honored,” I said finally, unable to refuse her, my voice steady despite the doubts swirling within.
On the walk back to our chambers, Anna skipped beside me, her small hand in mine, chattering animatedly about Berry, about how she’d trotted “so fast!” and how Perock had called her a natural. Her joy was so pure, so untainted, that it warmed me even as my fears lingered, a quiet undercurrent beneath her laughter.
Over the next few days, we spent a lot of time with Perock. Picnics, painting, walks, horseback riding… Anna looked forward to these activities every day, and Perock always found new ways to make her happy. He told her stories of royal history, taught her to identify various plants in the palace gardens, and even crafted a small wooden carriage model for her with his own hands.
I found myself gradually letting down my guard, starting to enjoy this family time. Watching Anna learn to ride a horse under Perock’s guidance, seeing her listen intently to his stories, and witnessing the unspoken understanding between them—all of it softened my heart.
One night. The moonlight spilled through the window at night, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
“Mom?” Anna’s soft voice startled me awake. I turned to see her standing by the bed, clutching her beloved little wolf plushie.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I sat up, lifting the covers for her to climb in.
Anna snuggled into my arms, her small face pressed against my chest.
“Did you have a nightmare?” I gently stroked her back.
“No,” she shook her head, her voice quiet.
Anna had grown used to sleeping on her own, so for her to come to me like this, something must be on her mind. A sense of unease I didn’t want to face stirred in me, but I didn’t rush her to close her eyes. I just waited.
Until she looked up, her amber eyes shimmering in the darkness, and voiced her true thoughts: “Mommy, why can’t we stay with King Perock forever?”
The question made my heart skip a beat.
“Because,” I chose my words carefully, “we’re from different kingdoms. Once the alliance is signed, we have to go home.”
“But I like it here,” Anna said softly. “I like King Perock, too. He’s fun, and he tells so many stories. And…” She hesitated, her voice growing even quieter, “and I feel like he really likes me, like…”
“Like what?”
“Like a dad likes his daughter,” Anna blinked a few times, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t have a dad, do I? Other kids have dads, but I don’t.”
Her tone was filled with loneliness, so different from her usual cheerful self.
I swallowed my guilt and gently hugged her. “You do have a dad, Anna. It’s just… he can’t be with us.”
“Why?” she pressed. “Where is he? Doesn’t he love us?”
My throat tightened, and I didn’t know how to answer. For five years, whenever Anna asked about her father, I’d always been vague, saying only that he was a brave warrior who couldn’t be with us. But now, facing those eyes so strikingly similar to Perock’s, I felt an overwhelming weight.
“He loves you, Anna,” I finally said, my voice choking. “He just… doesn’t know you exist.”