Chapter 71: Chapter 71 The Mad King Yields
Phoebe’s POV
"What did you discuss with Tricia?" Perry’s voice cuts through my drowsiness as I feel myself being lifted from the sofa.
I must have dozed off there again. His arms carry me back toward the bed, but consciousness pulls me from sleep’s edge before he can settle me down.
He doesn’t waste a moment once my eyes flutter open, diving straight into the question that’s clearly been eating at him since he discovered Tricia’s visit.
That crafty old man bolted from the palace right after our chat, claiming he needed a week’s leave for family time.
What a coward.
I can sense Perry’s frustration simmering beneath the surface. He doesn’t exactly hate Tricia—the elder is actually one of the few council members he can stomach—but the man has zero boundaries when you give him an inch. I know Perry is already planning punishment for whichever warrior let Tricia slip past security to reach me.
"What?" I mumble, still groggy and struggling to process his question through the fog of interrupted sleep. My hands move to rub my eyes, trying to clear the haze.
"What did you and Tricia talk about?" His tone sharpens with impatience, though I catch him reining himself in. We’ve been getting along better lately, and he clearly doesn’t want to shatter that fragile peace over some meddling elder.
"Oh..." I push my messy hair away from my face, the sleepiness finally lifting as reality settles in. "The elder told me about what happened between you and the previous king."
My voice comes out small and rough from sleep. The drowsiness vanishes completely now, replaced by worry as I wait to see how he’ll react.
"What else?" He moves closer, close enough that his familiar scent fills my senses and sends my heart racing despite everything.
"Nothing much... he just said I should stay with you." My voice gets even quieter. "He said to keep you in a good mood."
It’s not exactly a lie. That was essentially what Elder Tricia asked of me, even if I’m paraphrasing his actual words.
Perry cups my face in his hands, his touch firm but not rough. "Don’t lie to me."
"I’m not." Then I remember Tricia’s parting request, the one that made his eyes go serious. "Please, don’t do anything to the warrior who let him in."
Tricia specifically asked me to make this request. He knew Perry would be furious—not at me, never at me, but definitely at the guard who’d allowed the unauthorized meeting.
"You have no right to demand that from me."
I shake my head quickly, recognizing that dangerous edge creeping into his voice. "This is my plea to you. I don’t want you to kill or punish the warrior, please. I enjoyed talking with Elder Tricia. He knows so many stories about the flowers in the garden."
That part is completely true. Once Tricia sensed my anxiety about the heavier topics, he’d smoothly shifted our conversation to lighter matters—the palace gardens, the different flower varieties, their meanings and care.
But his final words keep echoing in my mind: ’If you don’t trust me, try with the warrior. I believe you can convince him to cancel the punishment. He won’t punish the warrior if you ask him gently. He has been longing for gentleness, my lady. Please, be gentle with him.’
"Please, I don’t want someone else to die because of me. The warrior didn’t have a choice. He tried to stop Elder Tricia, but the elder outranks him."
Perry’s eyes narrow, and I hold my breath. Then he sighs, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Fine."
One simple word, but it’s enough to save a man’s life. I stare at him in amazement. He actually listened to me?
I never thought I’d see the day when the Mad King would yield to my request.
"Why are you looking at me like that? I said fine. I won’t punish the warrior." His expression turns almost petulant at my shocked stare.
"You won’t punish him."
"No."
"Thank you." A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. Something warm unfurls in my chest at this small victory.
There’s something different about his expression today. The terrifying mask he usually wears doesn’t seem quite as frightening. He looks almost like... a sulky child, if I had to put it into words.
When things don’t go his way or someone crosses him, he gets upset and lashes out violently. But stripped down to its core, it reminds me of a child throwing a tantrum—albeit one with catastrophically deadly consequences.
"You don’t need to thank me for that." He lies down on the bed, then pats the space beside him. "Come here."
I blink but move closer without hesitation. After his generosity in sparing the warrior’s life, I don’t want to push my luck with any resistance.
"Sleep. I’m tired." His arms pull me against him, and he closes his eyes. For once, he doesn’t seem interested in anything physical—today must have been particularly exhausting for him. "I’m taking you to Crimson Moon pack tomorrow. Sleep now."
"Hmm? You’re taking me out?"
"Yes." He presses my face against his chest, effectively ending the conversation. "Sleep."
I settle against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing gradually slow and deepen. Within minutes, I can tell by the subtle changes in his chest’s rise and fall that he’s drifted off.
Somehow, his peaceful sleep brings me a strange sense of calm too.
I close my eyes, but sleep eludes me now that I’ve been roused from my earlier nap. Instead, I spend the next hour or so studying his sleeping face in the dim light. He looks completely different like this—approachable, almost vulnerable. That permanent scowl that usually marks his features has vanished entirely.
A dangerous thought creeps into my mind: what if I could convince him to stop the war? What if I could somehow guide him toward becoming a better person?
Elder Tricia believes I have that power, and Perry’s decision to spare the warrior seems to prove his point—that Perry will bend to my requests.
Of course, I know ending a war would be infinitely more complex than saving one guard’s life. But I did accomplish this small thing.
Maybe there’s hope that I could influence him about larger matters too. It might take time, but wouldn’t it be worth trying?
My head starts to throb, dizziness creeping in as these thoughts swirl around. I force myself to stop this mental spiral and focus on sleep instead.
Tomorrow he’s taking me somewhere—our first trip together. The thought makes me nervous, but maybe it’s a good sign.
When morning arrives, I wake at my usual early hour, but immediately I’m hit with intense dizziness and a powerful urge to vomit.
Without thinking, I stumble toward the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before my stomach empties itself.
