Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 69

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I added extra drops to Perry’s plate that morning. The slow-acting toxin was finally starting to feel like an enemy rather than an ally — he still showed no signs. If I wanted him gone, I needed a better plan, or a stronger dose.

I switched on the cartoon and sat on the couch like any ordinary afternoon, keeping my breathing even while waiting for him to wake. When he finally joined me, we ate together and then he left for his duties, the way he always did. He hadn’t mentioned Reginald. I didn’t bring it up either. Fewer sparks, fewer questions.

“I’m almost out,” I told Mason when she brought my lunch. The room was quiet between us for a second as she considered what I’d said.

“Already?” her eyes widened. “You have to be careful. Timing matters. If he suspects anything before we’re ready…” Her voice cut off. She didn’t need to finish; I knew what she meant.

“His body’s different,” I said. “Months, and nothing. He doesn’t react.” The admission felt hollow. Part of me wanted to stop — the other part burned too hot.

Mason gave me a measured nod. “I’ll try to get more. But I can’t hoard the bottles; it’ll draw attention.”

I told her it was fine, though the lie tasted bitter. The plan had swallowed me. I kept telling myself the end justified what I had to become.

Later that afternoon, someone knocked at my door. The warrior posted outside argued softly with a visitor before allowing him in. I muted the TV and pulled my jacket over my shoulders. My pulse stuttered. Visitors meant explanations; explanations invited questions.

When I opened the door I found an elder — white-robed, slow of step, the kingdom’s insignia folded over his chest. He introduced himself as Elder Tricia. His voice carried the weight of long years of watchfulness.

“May I speak with you? It’s important,” he said.

It felt wrong. Nothing happened in my room without Perry’s knowledge. Still, I let him inside and shut the door carefully behind us. The palace rules were sharp in my mind; every unauthorized word could be a blade.

He wasted no time. “You are Lady Phoebe of Obsidian Claw?” he asked, and when I nodded he continued in a lower tone. “There’s unrest. You should be aware — and cautious.”

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