Page 25 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
I took a deep breath and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Having lived in this castle for so long, this was the first time I would appear before everyone as Perock’s wife. Although I had basically mastered the etiquette of noble interactions during the three-day intensive training to “become Viossi Thornfield,” I wasn’t sure if I could handle myself with ease in front of everyone.
But for Perock, I had to try my best.
Susie gave me an encouraging smile. “His Highness is waiting outside.”
I stepped out of the room, my heart racing, and found Perock standing in the corridor. He was a vision in a deep blue doublet, its silver embroidery catching the torchlight, a cloak draped over his broad shoulders lending him an air of regal authority. His amber eyes softened as they met mine, a rare warmth breaking through his usual reserve.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and sincere.
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I lowered my gaze. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
We walked down the long corridor, my arm resting lightly on his, the steady rhythm of his steps and the warmth of his presence grounding me. Yet, beneath my calm exterior, fear surged like a tide. What if I stumbled over a noble’s title? What if I embarrassed him before the court? The thought of letting him down twisted my stomach into knots.
“You’re trembling,” Perock said suddenly, stopping and turning to face me, his brow furrowed with concern.
I swallowed, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”
His expression softened, and he took my hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “There’s no need to be nervous,” he said. “You’re my wife. No one would dare disrespect you.” His thumb brushedlightly across the back of my hand, a small gesture that sent my pulse racing. “I’ll be by your side.”
His words wrapped around me like a warm cloak, easing the tension in my shoulders. Our eyes met, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between us—a connection I couldn’t name but felt deep in my bones. My wolf stirred, humming with quiet joy. Then, he looked away, resuming our walk, and the moment slipped into silence.
At the banquet hall’s entrance, the guards’ voices boomed: “His Royal Highness, Prince Perock, and Her Highness, the Princess!”
Every eye in the room turned to us, their gazes sharp and appraising. My legs felt like water, but Perock’s hand tightened briefly on mine, steadying me. “Chin up, shoulders back,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re radiant. Don’t be afraid.”
His words were a lifeline, pulling me from the edge of panic. I straightened, lifting my chin, and stepped into the glittering hall on his arm, my heart pounding but my resolve firm.
The banquet hall was a spectacle of opulence—crystal chandeliers casting golden light, tapestries depicting wolves and moons, tables laden with silver and fine china. King sat at the far end on a raised dais, his face stern and unyielding, his crown glinting coldly. As we bowed, I sensed his gaze swept over me, clinical and detached, as if I were an object to be evaluated. A shiver ran down my spine, but I held my composure, refusing to flinch.
Then, my eyes met Lord Thornfield’s across the room. Seated among the guests, his cold, warning stare pierced through me, a silent reminder of my stolen identity.
My confidence crumbled, replaced by a suffocating sense of fraudulence. I was no princess, just a servant girl playing a part, and his glare made me feel like a thief caught in the act.
Suddenly, a warm pressure on my hand pulled me back. Perock’s fingers rested over mine, his touch grounding me. He didn’t look at me, but the gesture spoke volumes: I’m here.
I knew that I should have felt sweetness, but deep inside, a discordant voice emerged.
All of this is built on a lie. He’s not interacting with the real me, but with Viossi. If he knew the truth, would he still hold my hand?
As the banquet began, I relaxed slightly, distracted by the hall’s splendor—the lilting music, the clink of glasses, the laughter of nobles in their finery. This world of luxury was alien to the girl I’d been at Thornfield, scrubbing floors and hiding from cruel words. I had to suppress my awe, reminding myself I was Viossi, a noblewoman who’d grown up in such grandeur.
With a bitter smile, I sipped my champagne, hoping the bubbles would drown my unease.
A shadow fell across the table, and I looked up to find a young man standing before me, his smile sharp and arrogant. His eyes roamed over me with unsettling boldness.
“So, this is the new princess,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “The Thornfield’s pearl. I must say, Lady Viossi, your beauty lives up to the rumors.”
Suddenly, I felt that Perock’s body tensed beside me, his voice cold as winter. “Jackson, watch your mouth.”
The man called Jackson ignored him, his smirk widening. “I’m just curious,” he continued, leaning closer to me. “What made you marry a man rumored to devour his four wives? Family pressure? Ambition? Or are you just brave enough to risk being the fifth to ‘disappear’?”
Each word was a dagger aimed at Perock, meant to provoke. I felt his anger radiating, but also his restraint, a careful shield protecting both me and himself. His control sparked a surge of courage within me, my wolf growling softly in solidarity.
“His Highness has been nothing but kind to me, Lord Jackson,” I said, my voice calm and measured, surprising even myself. “As for rumors, I believe everyone deserves to be judged by truth, not gossip.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed, clearly caught off guard by my response. Perock turned to me, a flicker of approval in his gaze, a look I’d never seen before. My heart swelled, though I kept my expression composed.
