Chapter 65: Chapter 65 A Brutal Childhood
Phoebe’s POV
I splashed cold water against my face, having locked the bathroom door in case Perry stirred and decided to walk in.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what I’d just done.
The intense climax from our heated encounter had faded, leaving me mortified by how brazen I’d been with him.
Yet, to my shock, I’d enjoyed every second of it.
When I was on top, controlling our rhythm as I moved over him, I could watch his face. For once, I held the power, and I... craved it.
I doused my face with more frigid water, desperate to pull myself together. How had I gone from being revolted by sex to actually wanting it?
I had to be losing my mind.
Trying to silence my racing thoughts, I yanked open the bottom drawer where I’d stashed the poison. I pulled it out and studied it for a long moment.
Twisted as it was, this poison was the only thing I could actually taste. And somehow, I enjoyed it. It brought flavor to my otherwise bland existence.
Maybe that’s why I chose this method, even knowing it would damage me too.
Or maybe I actually wanted to die...
The idea of dying alongside Perry made my lips twitch into a bitter smile.
I twisted off the cap and let a few drops fall into my mouth. The familiar burn spread through me. Most of it would go to Perry, but I’d get my share too.
I didn’t care anymore.
After replacing the poison, I returned to the bedroom where Perry lay unconscious, completely unaware.
We were both still naked.
I climbed back onto the bed and settled beside him. Cupping his face in my hands, I kissed him, transferring the poison from my mouth to his. He accepted it eagerly.
Even unconscious, he responded to my touch. Guilt twisted in my chest as I did this, but then I remembered his actions and the war he’d unleashed.
Perry drew me closer, deepening our kiss as his hand pressed against the back of my head.
I let him take what he wanted until sleep claimed him again.
When I woke for the second time, noon was approaching and Perry remained unconscious.
But another nightmare had seized him.
Sweat beaded across his forehead. His jaw clenched as if fighting back rage.
"No, don’t hurt her... Cordelia, I’m sorry... No. Not her..."
Cordelia.
This was the second time I’d witnessed him tormented by nightmares, and it unsettled me because he kept repeating that same name.
Who was Cordelia?
The way he spoke her name suggested intimacy - he cared for her, someone had hurt her. He pleaded for her safety, looking... terrified.
Learning from my previous mistake, I shifted away from him. I wouldn’t try waking him again, not after he’d nearly killed me last time. The scar around my throat pulsed with phantom pain. A thin white line marked where he’d almost severed my head.
So I knew better than to get close. I slipped from the bed, out of his reach, and watched as he struggled in his sleep without lashing out.
Instead, I headed to the TV room where Mason had left our breakfast. I retrieved the second poison I’d hidden in the vase and added two drops to his plate.
From here, I could still hear Perry begging the people in his dreams not to harm the woman he cared about.
For some reason, irritation flared through me.
How could he dream of another woman right after having sex with me? This must be how Perry felt when he thought I was thinking about Kevin while he took me.
I switched on the television and watched cartoons while waiting for Perry to wake so we could eat together.
I didn’t plan it, but somehow I’d grown to like not eating alone. Though eating with him wasn’t much different since he barely spoke during meals.
——
"Who is Cordelia?" I asked Timothy when he visited. He’d brought pudding this time and was grinning like an idiot, making me wrinkle my nose.
I was tempted to refuse the pudding just to irritate him, but ended up eating it anyway.
"Cordelia?" Timothy’s expression changed, and he frowned at me. "How do you know that name?"
There was no way to explain how I knew about Cordelia without telling him the truth, and I saw no reason to hide this from him anyway.
"Who is she?"
Timothy’s brow furrowed as he considered his response, and I was already imagining the worst.
"She was Perry’s wet nurse," Timothy answered. "She basically raised him."
That wasn’t what I’d expected. I leaned forward. "What happened to her?" From what I’d heard in Perry’s sleep, something terrible had occurred, traumatizing him.
If Perry still dreamed about it years later, still haunted by it in his subconscious, it must have left deep scars.
"The previous king, Perry’s father, killed her right in front of him. He ordered warriors to mutilate her."
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. "But the king... they said he wasn’t like that... how could he do that to his own son?"
Timothy scoffed. "I know. You must have heard stories about the benevolent King Dale, right?"
Disgust flashed in Timothy’s eyes. "That’s why I don’t trust rumors. They’re spread from person to person, controlled by whoever holds the power."
Timothy looked at me meaningfully but didn’t elaborate.
I’d suffered the same fate. The only difference was I’d been painted as the villain. This was Timothy’s theory, though he couldn’t prove it.
"What had Cordelia done?" I asked, my heart aching as I pictured young Perry crying as the mother figure who’d raised him was brutally executed before his eyes.
"She gave food to Perry when he was being punished."
"What?" I pressed my lips together. I’d endured the same punishment. "She shouldn’t have fed him. It’s not like the king would actually kill him... right?"
Timothy looked almost apologetic about my naivety. "Perry hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for four straight days. He was only nine years old and was going to die, especially after being beaten so severely."
Timothy saw the conflicted look in my eyes and said gently, "Perry had a brutal childhood."
