Page 26 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

I picked up the cup in front of me and took a sip. A strange herbal taste spread across my tongue—bitter, indefinable, definitely not pleasant.

"It tastes strange," I set the cup down.

"Try more, it's really quite good."

I didn't respond. For some reason, I suddenly thought of the soup a maid had brought earlier that morning—Mia had sent it. That soup had been surprisingly good, warm and savory, making me feel considerably better after drinking it. By comparison, this tea was like punishment for my tongue.

"Your Majesty?" Leah's voice pulled me back. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." I leaned back in my chair, watching her move between the fabrics. "Just that... there's too much going on lately."

"Wedding preparations are tedious," she settled into a chair, hands folded on her lap, "but it's something to be happy about, isn't it?"

"Is it?" I smiled thinly. "Do you know why I was angry yesterday? Because Elder Alden made decisions for me, and I didn't even get a chance to object. Everyone tells me what I should do—who I should marry, what I should say, when I should smile, when I should be angry. No one's ever asked what I want."

She listened quietly, her blue eyes full of gentle concern.

"Do you remember that song you wrote?" I asked. "The line—'chains forged from gold, wear them long enough and you forget they're shackles.'"

Her expression froze for an instant, almost imperceptibly.

"Of course I remember," she said. "That line took me a long time to perfect."

"When I first heard it, I felt like someone had reached into my head and written my thoughts into lyrics." I looked out the window. "Everyone thinks it's gold, but only I know it's chains. Have you ever felt that way? Clearly trapped, but still having to thank the people who trapped you, because without them, you wouldn't even know which direction to go."

I turned back to her. "What were you thinking when you wrote that line?"

She blinked, fingertips lightly tracing the rim of her cup. "Well... loneliness and things like that... everyone experiences it, don't they?"

"Yes, but how did you transform that feeling into lyrics? I mean, that precise expression—"

"It just... came to me when inspiration struck." She interrupted me, looking up with a somewhat strained smile. "Your Majesty, let's focus on selecting the attire first. We can discuss this later."

I stared at her for a few seconds.

She avoided my gaze.

I waited for her to elaborate, but she just lowered her head and sipped her tea, offering nothing more.

A faint disappointment rose in my chest.

Like standing in an empty hall speaking to your own echo. What I craved was someone who understood my inner world, someone who could see the color of my soul without explanation. I'd thought the person who wrote those lyrics would be that person. But now she sat before me, close enough to touch, yet hollow as a vase—beautiful but empty.

But I shook my head, suppressing the feeling. Maybe she just wasn't good at expressing herself. Some people could pour emotions into songs but struggled with face-to-face conversation. That was normal. I shouldn't expect too much from her.

Yet just then, an absurd thought surfaced unbidden—if it were Mia, what would she do?

Sometimes I felt like those star-bright eyes of hers could see straight through my loneliness.

"Never mind." I stood, straightening my jacket. "Just pick whatever you like. I trust your judgment."

"Your Majesty—" She rose too. "You're leaving so soon? We haven't really talked—"

"Another time." I grabbed my gloves from the table and left the reception room without looking back.

Back in my study, I tried to focus on the documents waiting for my review.

Border trade reports. Autumn festival budget proposals. Reply drafts to diplomatic correspondence from neighboring kingdoms. Lines of text floated before my eyes, but none of it penetrated my skull.