Page 49 of The Alpha's Cursed Queen

He kept me up till dawn. I expected him to be there when I woke up this afternoon—or at least, I hoped he would be there—but he was long gone. The idea of looking Mary in the eyes had haunted me till I discovered that she had gone off with some girls on a picnic. She had left behind a note for me, explaining her absence. To my surprise, even Jimmy was no longer guarding the door when I peeked out.

Darian did tell me that the garden the east wing overlooks is a safe area to be in, so that’s how I find myself here. I can’t stay in that suite all day long. I didn’t bother to dress up, putting on a simple blouse and a pair of jeans. My red hair is tied in a braid that is resting on my shoulder. My stomach rumbles, and I ignore it.

Is this how it’s going to be, with Darian giving his attention to other women in the daytime and then coming to my bed at night? For how long? What if, once we are mated, his father forces other women on him? What then?

I want to tell Darian to stand up to his father and defend me, but my voice dies in my throat at the mere thought. He’s already doing so much for me, someone who is not worth even this much effort. How can I ask him to do more? Sighing heavily, I tilt my head back and stare at the blue sky.

“Is someone like me even allowed to be happy?” I whisper to the breeze, the loneliness in my question making my heart ache. What does Darian even see in me aside from our fated mate bond?

Every time I ask myself that question, I can’t come up with an answer. There’s nothing special about me. In fact, I would say that I’m lacking in almost every way. Willow wasn’t wrong on that account. There is nothing I can offer the royal family that would make me stand out as a candidate for queen. If Willow weren’t one brain cell away from being a sociopath, she would make an excellent queen. She’s got the breeding and the education. Her father gave her every opportunity he could think of.

To ask Darian to do more than what he is already doing for me doesn’t seem right, considering all this. I should be grateful that somebody cares about me the way he does. It’s still a foreign feeling to have someone look out for me this much or talk to me with such affection. There are times it simply doesn’t seem real.

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the cracking of a twig until a gasping sound follows it. I look over, alarmed. I can’t see anything because there are hedges everywhere to give the people walking in the garden some privacy.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” I call out cautiously.

There’s an extreme coughing fit, and I jump to my feet, looking for the source of the sound. I soon find it.

It’s an elderly man, wearing a white shirt and dark-colored pants. He’s on the ground, spitting up blood.

“Let me get help!” I cry out, horrified. But he shakes his head, trying to whack his own back at the same time. “Let me do that.” I gently thump his back, and he coughs out more blood, but after a few seconds, the tremors in his body cease. “Let me get you some water. Stay here,” I instruct him, trying to remain calm. The sight of the blood is terrifying. “Please don’t die while I’m gone.”

I rush over to the bench where I placed the bottle of water I’d brought along with me. It’s still unopened, and I quickly remove the cap before tilting it against the man’s lips.

“Don’t worry about spilling. It’s fine,” I reassure him.

He takes a few sips, and when he coughs, the blood from his mouth is almost pinkish this time around.

“Thank you, dear.” His voice is hoarse, and he takes my offered hand, struggling to get to his feet.

“There’s a bench right over here,” I tell him. “You should sit. I’ll go get some help.”

“No need,” he murmurs, still sounding weak. “Just stay here with me. I’ll be fine.” He walks with great difficulty, and once he’s sitting on the bench, he lets out a sigh of relief. “My knees don’t move the way they used to.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, smiling at him. “As we age, our bodies go through a lot of wear and tear. I suppose I’ll be in this same position one day.”

He pats my hand tiredly. “I hope not, child. I used to be so strong in my youth. And now, look at me. I can’t even walk around without a cane. I never foresaw this.”

The man seems familiar, but I can’t place him. “Are you a gardener here?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, looking genuinely shocked. “What?”

“I saw the shears next to you, so I assumed. You seem familiar, though. Do you work in the east wing? I’m sorry. I’m terrible with faces,” I explain.

He lets out a quick laugh. “Familiar, you say? Yes, I must seem that way. You seem mighty familiar to me, as well.”

I don’t know why he looks so amused, but at least he’s not coughing up blood anymore.

“Should I get you something else to drink? There’s some cold juice in my room. It might make you feel better.” I’m already halfway off the bench when he shakes his head.

“No. Your company is enough. But I thought all the young ladies were out on the picnic today.”

I recall the event on the itinerary. “They are.”

“Why aren’t you with them?”

I shrug. “I don’t fit in. And I don’t mind staying here.”

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