Chapter 111: Chapter 111 A Prayer For Her Rage
Flynn’s rage boiled over when he discovered Perry had whisked Phoebe away to the kingdom’s eastern territory.
The pair would hole up in one of the royal family’s retreats there.
"Stop whining to me. If you want my opinion, I back his choice completely. They both need space to figure things out."
"Space?!" Flynn’s voice cracked with frustration. "How much damn space do they need?! They’ve been glued together constantly! How can Perry abandon his responsibilities?"
"Flynn, he’s not abandoning anything. He’s handled what needed handling. Even if he stayed, there’s nothing more he could accomplish unless you expect him to wage war against the Obsidian Claw pack and those rebel groups."
Timothy was buried in battle preparations, set to command the assault. He’d be away from the palace for at least a month—the estimated time to crush the uprising.
"I can’t reason with you! You’re clueless about anything beyond fighting. You don’t grasp the kingdom’s political mess!" Flynn snarled. "You have no idea how brutal it is managing those elders."
Timothy finally snapped at Flynn’s endless complaints. He spun around to face the royal beta. The three had grown up as close friends, but sometimes Flynn’s idealistic views grated on everyone’s nerves.
"Have you ever stood on a battlefield’s front lines? Does handling elders put your life on the line?" Timothy locked eyes with him, demanding an answer.
"That’s your area of expertise. You know how to handle it."
"Then you’ve answered your own damn question, Flynn." Timothy exhaled heavily, stepped closer, and gripped Flynn’s shoulders. "Don’t be so inflexible. You’ll only shatter the king further, and then this kingdom will have nothing left but madness."
Flynn clenched his jaw and stayed silent. Later that night, a secret message arrived, requesting a private meeting.
——
**Perry’s POV**
I lifted Phoebe from the car since she’d fallen asleep during our journey to the beach house.
The afternoon sky hung heavy with clouds, the temperature perfect. Ocean waves crashed in the distance.
I’d brought only a small group of warriors, planning to stay just two or three days maximum.
I couldn’t afford to be away from the palace longer.
Cradling Phoebe against my chest, I studied her sleeping face. She looked ghostly pale, her lips slightly parted.
I climbed the stairs to our second-floor bedroom. The door swung open, and salty sea air hit me immediately. The balcony doors stood wide, revealing the endless blue ocean beyond.
The view was breathtaking.
"I opened it to freshen the room. Should I close it, my king?" The elderly butler whispered, careful not to disturb Phoebe.
He’d heard whispers about the king’s mate, but since I hadn’t held any ceremony for her after all this time, he’d assumed they were just rumors.
But seeing this woman and witnessing how I treated her, he knew instantly—she was truly my mate.
Knowing me, I wouldn’t waste time on random people, much less show them any gentleness.
"No, leave it." I waved him away after settling Phoebe carefully on the bed.
The butler departed, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
Now I stood here, completely lost.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" I brushed her hair gently. I’d give her everything, but I feared my everything wouldn’t be enough to reach her.
I’d managed it once before but lost my chance. Now Phoebe seemed to be slipping away entirely.
"Please, come back to me. Stay with me..."
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d prayed, but I started again now for her sake. If prayer would help, I’d worship whatever god could bring my mate back to me.
"Be furious with me, fight me, but don’t be like this..."
I’d take her rage any day over this emptiness. She looked so fragile, as if holding her too tightly would break her completely.
I’d brought Marcela along in case Phoebe needed medical attention, but she’d keep her distance unless summoned.
This beach house was massive—we wouldn’t cross paths unless intentionally.
"Wake up, Phoebe."
No one would believe the Mad King actually begged someone. No one would believe this side of me existed.
Phoebe didn’t stir until late evening.
I had no choice but to wake her—she’d skipped lunch and would fall ill if she missed dinner too.
"Wake up, you need to eat." I shook her shoulder gently. "Wake up."
I leaned down and nuzzled her cheek, which finally roused her.
Phoebe’s brow furrowed when she saw me, but she remained silent. It had been ages since I’d heard her voice.
"You have to eat something," I said, but Phoebe didn’t move. She just stared at the plate in my hands.
For a moment, I wished she’d hurl the plate away and show some emotion, but Phoebe did nothing—just stared.
She was breathing, but dead inside.
"Let’s get some food in you, okay?" I helped her sit up. "Can you look at me? Can you speak to me? You can hit me if you want."
