Chapter 66: Chapter 66 Shattered Beyond Repair
Perry’s POV
I watched Reginald from across the training grounds, studying his every move as he sparred with the other warriors. Nothing in his demeanor suggested he harbored any hidden agenda, yet something about his presence here gnawed at me. Why would someone who could have anything he wanted in his own pack choose to join the palace guard for a war mission?
His fighting skills were mediocre at best, nothing that screamed ambition or hunger for power. But damn if he wasn’t charismatic. The bastard had already wormed his way into the inner circle of most newly recruited warriors.
"What’s eating at you?" Flynn’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I could feel his disapproval radiating off him in waves. He still couldn’t stomach how I’d handled that warrior situation—convinced I’d murdered an innocent man over unproven accusations.
When I’d reminded him that he was the one who’d reported Reginald’s suspicious absence, he’d scrambled to backtrack with a dozen half-baked theories I had no patience for.
"Nothing," I replied curtly.
Flynn’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. He knew me well enough to recognize that staring at someone for this long meant it was definitely more than ’nothing.’
"Still dwelling on what happened?"
When I didn’t respond, he released a heavy sigh. I could practically hear him biting back the same lecture about how I shouldn’t have killed that warrior—words he’d already thrown at me multiple times. Smart man knew better than to push it again and risk sending my mood spiraling.
These past few days had been bearable only because I’d been spending nights in Phoebe’s bed. Each time I returned from those heated encounters, her scent clung to my skin like a brand.
"The elders won’t stop pestering me about the queen’s ceremony," Flynn pressed on. "You still haven’t presented her to the public."
I dismissed his concern with a wave. "I’ll do it when the timing’s right."
"And when exactly will that be?" He matched my stride as I moved. "She’s been here nearly six months. If you keep delaying the announcement, people will start thinking you’re just keeping her around as your personal plaything."
The death glare I shot him made him snap his mouth shut instantly, though I could tell he believed every word he’d just spoken. Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
"Handle things here," I commanded, turning to leave the training grounds.
"What? That’s Timothy’s job!"
The warriors fell under the royal gamma’s command, not his. Flynn was supposed to manage the kingdom’s administrative affairs. But our gamma had been playing ghost lately, slipping away on mysterious errands.
——
**Phoebe’s POV**
I sat perched on my bedroom windowsill, gazing into the distance while Timothy’s revelations from days ago churned through my mind like poison.
The horrors he’d described about Perry’s childhood had left ice running through my veins. The previous king—revered by his people as a benevolent ruler—had been a monster wearing a saint’s mask.
Compared to King Dale’s cruelty, even Kevin and my father seemed like mere amateurs. What kind of twisted soul whips their eight-year-old son nearly to death for refusing to execute a warrior whose only crime was not bowing deep enough?
That was just the beginning of the nightmare Perry had endured. Starvation, psychological torture, forced executions—each detail Timothy shared made my own trauma feel almost trivial in comparison.
The king had taken sadistic pleasure in watching his son take lives, molding him into the perfect killer. When Perry’s rage consumed him, his father praised him for it.
At thirteen, Perry had been thrown into death matches with seasoned warriors. Not training—actual fights to the death.
He’d grown up surrounded by violence and fear, learning that terror was the only language people understood.
And Cordelia... sweet Cordelia who’d been like a mother to him, flayed alive while he watched helplessly. That was when something inside Perry had shattered beyond repair, according to Timothy.
"My lady, what has you so lost in thought?"
Mason’s voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath, finding her watching me with worried confusion.
"Sorry, I called your name several times," she said apologetically. "Here’s another bottle. You’re burning through the poison awfully fast—don’t make it too obvious."
"Don’t worry," I murmured, accepting the vial. "He’s strong enough that it won’t kill him quickly."
Lately, breathing had become more difficult, which I assumed was a side effect of handling the poison. Meanwhile, Perry showed no symptoms whatsoever. His body truly was built differently.
"Something’s troubling you," Mason observed, settling beside me. She was the closest thing to a friend I had in this place. "You can tell me anything. I’ll help however I can."
I studied her face, debating whether to voice my questions.
"Do you know why Reginald is really here?"
"From what I understand, he’s here to lead the warriors when they’re ready to strike against the king." She lowered her voice to barely a whisper, knowing the treasonous weight of her words. Such talk could cost her head.
"When will that happen?"
Mason’s posture went rigid. "I don’t know," she said quickly.
But I could read the lie in her eyes. Mason knew exactly when it would happen.
