Chapter 123: Chapter 123 A Far More Dangerous Beast
"In my view, you’re out of line questioning the king’s decisions about his own family," Marcela replied, her voice sharp with contempt.
Any sympathy she’d felt for the former royal beta evaporated instantly.
"You’ve crossed a boundary, Flynn. You claim the kingdom comes first, but you fail to grasp that the king and his realm are inseparable. They’re one and the same."
"He abandoned his duties as ruler!" Flynn forced himself to bite back further words—arguing with a healer about palace politics was pointless. The man understood nothing of such complexities. "That woman corrupted him completely."
Marcela let the silence stretch between them before responding, waiting until Flynn’s fury cooled slightly.
"King Perry earned the title ’Mad King’ long ago. How much worse could Lady Phoebe possibly make him? You’ve had years to restore his reputation, yet I see no progress in that regard."
Flynn’s nostrils flared. He seized the food tray and hurled it to the floor. "Leave! GET OUT!"
——
**Perry’s POV**
The storm raged outside tonight, wind shrieking like some tortured spirit against the walls.
Inside this sterile room, I maintained my vigil beside Phoebe’s bed, her delicate hand clasped firmly in both of mine, trying to share what warmth I could. Four hours had passed since I’d taken this position, and I refused to move.
Somewhere in those dark hours, exhaustion finally claimed me. A week’s worth of sleepless nights crashed down all at once.
The vicious howling continued beyond the windows, and that savage sound pulled Phoebe from unconsciousness.
She startled awake, her body trembling as branches scraped and clawed at the glass with grinding persistence.
Her gaze swept the room before settling on me—still slumped in the chair, my head resting on the edge of her bed.
Even in sleep, tension creased my features, as if nightmares plagued my rest.
Phoebe studied her surroundings with growing awareness.
Definitely a hospital room, and my presence here meant I’d successfully torn her from Reginald’s clutches.
Yet she felt no relief, no sense of rescue. If anything, she’d merely escaped one predator’s snare only to find herself trapped with a far more dangerous beast—one who might devour her completely.
She attempted to shift her arm, but couldn’t—I was sleeping on it, cutting off circulation and leaving it numb.
That tiny movement jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open, immediately locking with hers.
For several heartbeats, we simply stared at each other while the tempest outside grew more violent.
"This isn’t a dream, is it?" I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. I’d been so certain this was another cruel fantasy when I saw her eyes flutter open—that’s why I hadn’t reacted.
Phoebe turned her head away, avoiding my gaze entirely.
"Even in my dreams, you won’t look at me."
I closed my eyes again, too drained to think clearly.
Meanwhile, Phoebe studied my sleeping face. I looked haggard, as if I’d aged years since she’d last seen me.
The ache in her wounded tongue returned with vengeance, making it nearly impossible to move her mouth. The sensation was both uncomfortable and maddening.
But a more pressing need demanded attention—her bladder was about to burst.
She frowned, shifting restlessly and trying to push me off her arm, but I was dead weight. I didn’t budge or even stir.
Multiple attempts proved futile until desperation drove her to tap my head sharply.
Thankfully, that final effort roused me. I looked around in confusion before my eyes found hers again, brows knitting together as if I couldn’t process what was happening.
"Where do you think you’re going?" I tried to guide her back down when she struggled to sit up. She couldn’t speak.
Not just because of her injury, but due to the trauma Reginald had inflicted. She pushed against me frantically.
"No, you can’t leave. You need to rest." I didn’t want to hurt her, but continued resistance would force my hand whether I liked it or not.
So I called for the medical staff.
I’d anticipated this kind of reaction when she regained consciousness.
However, Phoebe’s struggles intensified when she saw me summoning help. She shoved at me weakly, her strength depleted from days of unconsciousness.
"Stop fighting me, Phoebe. Please, just stay still!"
Then disaster struck. She couldn’t hold back any longer and wet herself completely. The mortification on her face made me wish I was dead instead.
For a moment, I didn’t understand—then I saw the spreading dampness. Phoebe had soiled the bed and her clothes.
When I looked at her again, silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in her palms. The nurses appeared in the doorway.
"Get out!" I roared at them, even though I’d summoned them moments before. They froze in bewilderment. "OUT NOW!" I hurled a pillow in their direction to emphasize my point.
Terrified, they fled without a word, too frightened to question why they’d been called only to be banished immediately after.
"It’s alright. Everything’s fine," I whispered, gathering Phoebe in my arms and carrying her toward the bathroom once we were alone.
"I’m sorry—I didn’t realize," I said awkwardly, but she kept her face hidden. The humiliation was crushing her.
And rightfully so.
I hadn’t understood she needed the bathroom. I’d assumed she was trying to escape me again.
