Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 57

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“I heard her screaming from outside, my king,” the warrior said, dropping to one knee, head bowed so low his neck was bared in submission. “But since I had no orders allowing me to enter, I stayed put.”

His voice was steady — too steady. Not even a quiver betrayed the lie slithering from his mouth.

“He’s lying,” I breathed, my chest tightening. Then louder, the words breaking apart in my throat, “He’s lying! Reginald was here!”

The sound cracked through the air like glass shattering. Perry’s gaze turned toward me — sharp, assessing, unreadable — and the more silent he remained, the more frantic I became.

“He lied! Please! He lied!” The same words poured out again and again until they barely sounded human. The warrior didn’t even flinch; he just looked at me with quiet pity.

That look snapped something inside me.

I grabbed a jagged shard from the broken vase and lunged at him. I didn’t think — only acted. My blood screamed for someone to believe me, for someone to listen.

“Stop this madness!” Perry’s voice thundered through the room as he caught me mid-swing. The shard flew from my hand, clattering across the floor.

“I’ll kill him!” I fought against Perry’s grip, the words spilling faster than I could breathe. “He lied to you! He lied to you! Reginald was here!”

But the harder I tried to speak, the more my voice twisted into something wild and desperate — the sound of a woman who no one believed.

“Get out,” Perry ordered.

The warrior bowed and backed away, deliberate, unhurried — mocking.

As the door closed, I kept shouting, kept insisting. Blood trickled from my palm where the shard had cut me, but I couldn’t feel it. My thoughts spiraled, dragging Reginald’s words back to the surface — about the Movement, the spies, the traitors already inside these walls.

He had been right. The palace was infested, and the king had no idea.

Neither did he know that I was poisoning him, one drop at a time.

For a moment I wanted to tell him — to scream that the enemy was closing in — but what good would that do? He’d never believe me. And if he did, he’d tear me apart before he thanked me.

So I said nothing.

The rage bled out of me until I was hollow. My voice went soft, almost too calm. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Perry still said nothing. His silence was a knife.

“You think I’m mad,” I murmured, my lips trembling. “You think I’m the liar.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of trust in those icy blue eyes.

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