Page 38 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

"She's been an orphan her whole life," Leah had told me. "People who grow up like that learn not to catch feelings. Your Majesty, she just needs a protector. Anyone would do."

I didn't respond. But those words stuck in my chest like a splinter.

The ceremony with Leah was grand and hollow. We had no real bond. She played my Luna to save my reputation, and I treated her with courtesy in return.

But I couldn't stay away from Mia's room.

I put her in that west wing bedroom with the half-sealed window—like keeping a precious but embarrassing pet. I even called her "the maid" in front of everyone.

Because I'm the king. The weight of the entire Moonhowl Kingdom sits on my shoulders, and my so-called fated mate—the soulmate hand-picked by the Moon Goddess herself—can't even speak.

Worse, I was convinced she'd drugged me.

That night haunted me.

I'm not someone who loses control. I was trained from childhood to be a machine—calm, restrained, always in command. But that night I stormed into her room like an animal in heat, my mind reduced to one single thought. The healer's report confirmed my suspicions the next day. Her soup had contained aphrodisiac herbs.

So she wanted a child. Wanted to trap me with an heir. Wanted to climb from an orphan maid to queen.

How was she any different from those Elders? They all wanted to manipulate me, turn me into their puppet. Elder Alden made my decisions for me, she drugged me—everyone treated my body, my marriage, my future like their personal chessboard.

So I gave her what she deserved—the role of breeding tool. But I wouldn't say an extra word or spare an extra glance. I'd make her understand that her little tricks meant nothing. I was the one in control.

The rules said a few visits each month were enough. Conception was the goal. Once that was done, mission accomplished. No need for weekly visits.

But I kept going anyway.

I hated that feeling. Hated being like some fool who couldn't control his own feet. I knew she was a liar, but every night my feet would automatically turn in that direction. My wolf would spin excited circles in my chest—then when I finished and turned to leave, he'd slump down and whimper pitifully.

I told myself it was instinct. The fated mate bond messing with me. Nothing else.

Definitely nothing else.

At least that's what I told myself.

Every time I walked into that room and saw her sitting by the window with that sad look as she watched me, my heart would stab with pain.

A damn voice in my head kept asking: Are you sure? Are you sure she really did those things?

I pushed that voice away. The evidence was right there. The maid had confessed to everything. She'd been pulling the strings all along. She wanted my attention, my trust, and wanted to manipulate me.

She didn't deserve it.

But I had to admit—when I told myself these things, I sounded less and less convinced.

When I pushed open her door that day, that's what I found. Leah curled on the floor, clutching her arm, tears streaming down like a broken faucet. Mia stood backed against the wall, gasping for breath. A shattered glass bottle lay on the floor, brown liquid pooling everywhere.

My first instinct was to rush to Leah. She collapsed against me, trembling like an autumn leaf, her sobs fragmented and pitiful.

"Your Majesty... she—she tried to hurt me..."

I looked up at Mia. She stood there, hands still frozen in a pushing motion, eyes full of panic and rage—that look mixing grievance with defiance twisted something in my gut.

But I pushed it down. The evidence was on the floor. The bruise on Leah's arm was right there.

"What did you do?" I said.

Mia stared at me in panic, shaking her head frantically.