Chapter 251: Chapter 251 Final Goodbye
Phoebe’s POV
The grief sat heavy in my chest like a stone I couldn’t swallow. Through the glass coffin, Elder Tricia looked peaceful—almost as if he were simply taking one of his afternoon naps in his favorite chair by the library fireplace.
Marcela’s preservation spell had worked perfectly. No signs of the violence that had taken him, no evidence of his final, desperate fight to protect us all. Just the kind, weathered face I remembered from countless conversations in the palace gardens.
My fingers pressed against the cold glass, and I wished desperately that I could reach through and grasp his hand one final time. The same hand that had steadied me through brutal council meetings, that had guided me through the maze of royal politics, that had never once failed to offer comfort when I needed it most.
"I’m so sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the greenhouse’s hushed atmosphere. The scent of jasmine and roses surrounded us—flowers he’d personally selected for this space, believing that beauty could heal even the deepest wounds.
The regret burned in my throat. He would never know that I’d found my voice again. Would never hear me laugh at one of his gentle jokes or thank him properly for everything he’d done.
"You were my shield," I continued, the words coming easier now. "Every time the other elders circled like vultures, every time they questioned my worth, my right to stand beside Perry—you were always there. Fierce and unwavering."
I leaned closer to the glass, studying the lines around his eyes that had deepened from years of smiling, the silver hair that had once been dark as midnight, the hands folded peacefully over his chest that had once moved expressively as he told stories of Perry’s childhood.
"I swear to you—I’ll be the queen this kingdom needs. The queen you always believed I could become." My voice grew stronger, more certain. "You don’t have to worry about Perry anymore. I’ll take care of him the way you did. I’ll protect him, guide him, love him the way he deserves."
I pressed my lips to the glass barrier, tasting the salt of tears I hadn’t realized were falling. "Thank you for showing me what true loyalty looks like. What it means to serve with honor. You’ll live on in every decision I make, every stand I take."
Another kiss to the glass, and I lingered there, reluctant to leave this final sanctuary of grief. Because once I walked away, once I returned to the world of royal duties and kingdom politics, I would have to be strong again. I would have to be the queen everyone expected.
But here, with only Marcela as witness, I could be just Phoebe—a woman who had lost someone irreplaceable.
"We’ll all miss you terribly," I whispered. "But we’ll make you proud. I promise you that."
I felt Perry’s presence before I saw him. The familiar warmth of his aura, the subtle shift in the air that always announced his arrival. Marcela sensed it too, offering a respectful bow before quietly slipping away to give us privacy.
He moved to my side without a word, understanding instinctively that this moment required silence, not conversation. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining as we stood together before the glass coffin.
"I’m going to miss him," I said quietly, then turned into Perry’s embrace. The tears I’d been holding back finally came freely, soaking into his shirt as his arms tightened around me.
"We all will," he murmured against my hair, his own voice thick with emotion. "He was the father I should have had. The mentor who shaped me into the king I became."
We held each other in the greenhouse’s gentle light, surrounded by the flowers Elder Tricia had loved, sharing a grief that words couldn’t fully express.
The funeral began within the hour. The entire kingdom seemed to have gathered on the hillside overlooking the city, their faces solemn as we laid our beloved elder to rest near the royal grounds.
Perry spoke beautifully about Elder Tricia’s service, his wisdom, his unwavering loyalty to the crown. I added my own words—about his kindness, his patience, his ability to see the best in everyone he encountered.
But as I stood there, watching them lower his casket into the earth, I felt something shift inside me. The scared girl who had hidden behind Elder Tricia’s protection was gone. In her place stood a woman who understood that leadership meant carrying forward the lessons of those who came before.
Elder Tricia had devoted his life to this kingdom, to our family. His final resting place would allow him to watch over what he’d loved most—a fitting tribute to a man whose dedication had never wavered.
When the service ended, people began to drift away, leaving us with only a small group of Perry’s most trusted warriors at a respectful distance.
"Go ahead without me," Perry said, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. "I need more time here."
I understood completely. Elder Tricia had been more than an advisor to Perry—he’d been the steady presence that had guided him through his darkest moments, the voice of reason when emotion threatened to cloud his judgment.
"Of course," I replied, returning his kiss before stepping away. "Take all the time you need."
Wade fell into step beside me as I walked down the hillside, with Samuel flanking my other side. Both young warriors had recovered completely from our recent battles, though I knew Justin’s death during his mission to protect me still weighed heavily on Samuel’s conscience.
We’d held separate memorial services for both Justin and Orion. I’d paid my respects at their graves, had spoken with their families, had ensured they would be remembered as heroes of the kingdom.
So much loss. So many good people gone because of others’ greed and ambition.
Over my shoulder, I caught sight of Perry standing alone beside the fresh grave, his broad shoulders somehow smaller in his solitude. My heart ached for him, but I knew this was something he needed to do alone—this final goodbye to the man who had shaped him into the king he’d become.
"Where to, my queen?" Wade asked when he noticed our direction. Only one destination lay this way—the dungeons beneath the palace.
"There are people I need to see," I replied simply.
Wade’s expression grew troubled. "My queen, the dungeons are no place for you. Perhaps we could arrange—"
"I’m not asking for permission," I interrupted, though my tone remained gentle. "I’m informing you of where we’re going."
Samuel shot Wade a warning look, and the younger warrior wisely fell silent. I was queen now, with all the authority that title carried. They could advise and protect, but they could not command me.
The dungeon guards snapped to attention as we descended the stone steps, their eyes widening slightly when they heard me speak. It had been so long since any of them had heard my voice that some seemed to question whether they were hearing correctly.
"I want to see Cameron," I told the head guard, who nodded quickly and gestured for us to follow him deeper into the underground complex.
My father had been granted certain privileges during his imprisonment—monthly supervised visits to the dungeon’s small garden, access to books, adequate food and medical care. It was more mercy than he’d shown me during my years under his rule, but I’d insisted on treating him with the dignity befitting his former position.
When I entered his cell, I found him sitting on the narrow bed, looking far different from the commanding beta who had once terrorized me. Imprisonment had aged him, softened the harsh edges of his personality, left him looking like what he truly was—a tired old man who had lost everything through his own choices.
"I heard what happened," he said without preamble, studying my face with eyes that held none of their former cruelty. "I’m sorry for your loss. Elder Tricia was a good man."
All traces of his former arrogance had vanished. The domineering beta who had ruled through fear and intimidation was gone, replaced by someone who seemed to have found a kind of peace in accepting his fate.
I said nothing at first, simply studying the man who had caused me so much pain, trying to reconcile this subdued figure with the father who had made my childhood a living hell.
"You look well," he continued, filling the silence with observations I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. "Healthy. Strong. That makes me happy, though I know I have no right to happiness when it comes to your wellbeing."
Still, I remained silent, watching him with the same careful attention I’d learned to use in political negotiations.
"They let me into the garden last week," he said, his voice taking on a wistful quality I’d never heard before. "There’s the most beautiful wisteria tree visible from the back wall. It reminded me of the one your mother planted when you were born."
The mention of my mother sent an unexpected pang through my chest. I remembered that tree, remembered sitting beneath its purple blooms while my mother told me stories about brave queens and magical kingdoms.
"She always said you would be extraordinary," he continued, his voice growing softer. "Said you had her strength and a wisdom beyond your years. I was too proud, too afraid, too controlled by my own demons to see what she saw in you."
He looked down at his hands, weathered now from months of imprisonment.
"I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Phoebe. I know I caused you pain that can never be undone. But I want you to know—seeing you now, seeing what you’ve become despite everything I put you through—it’s the first peace I’ve felt in years."
"I want you to know that I’m proud of you," he said, meeting my eyes with startling directness. "Not because I have any right to claim pride in your accomplishments, but because seeing you triumph over everything—over me, over the circumstances that tried to break you—it gives me hope that maybe some part of goodness survived in our family line."
I felt something shift inside me at his words. Not forgiveness—that would take much longer, if it ever came at all. But perhaps the beginning of something that might eventually lead to peace.
"Thank you, Phoebe," he said quietly. "I know I don’t deserve your kindness after everything I did to you. But thank you for allowing me to see the woman you’ve become."
For a moment, I almost spoke. Almost offered him some small comfort, some acknowledgment of his words.
But then I thought about Elder Tricia, lying cold in his grave. About Perry, standing alone on that hillside, mourning the father figure he’d lost. About all the people who deserved my kindness and attention more than the man who had spent years trying to destroy my spirit.
Instead, I simply nodded once—acknowledgment without absolution—and turned to leave.
There was one more visit I needed to make before I could close this Chapter of grief and move forward into whatever challenges awaited us.
And that visit would require every ounce of strength I’d built since becoming queen.
