Page 40 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

Now I realized that image was an elaborate fraud.

She'd woven these flowers into a gentle illusion, and I'd almost fallen for it.

Why did she plant these flowers? Did she know they were poisonous?

If she knew—

Then maybe from the start she never intended to stay here quietly.

"Tear out all those flowers," I heard myself say, voice cold as winter rails. "Don't leave a single one."

"Your Majesty—" The healer hesitated.

"Do it now."

I turned and walked out of the medical room. In the corridor, Mia still stood there clutching that note. When she saw me emerge, her eyes lit up—that hopeful gleam like a puppy wagging its tail, waiting for its master's touch.

Then she saw my expression.

That light went out.

"I thought you just made an impulsive mistake," I said, voice flat as a weather report. "Maybe these flowers meant you were reflecting. But they're poisonous. I never imagined you'd be malicious enough to hurt people with such calculation."

She froze. Then shook her head frantically, fingers flying through gestures I couldn't understand. Her expression shifted from shock to terror to despair—the despair of knowing no explanation would ever be believed.

"Tear them out," I told the guards behind me. "All of them."

She made a hoarse gasp—the only sound she could squeeze from her throat. She lunged at me, grabbing my arm, tears finally breaking free and flooding her face.

I shook off her hand.

"Take her back to her room."

The guards dragged her away. She struggled to look back at the garden—several gardeners had already walked in with shovels and hoes. The first lavender plant was ripped from the ground, purple petals scattering across the dirt, slowly withering.

Her expression—

That look made my throat tighten.

It wasn't anger or resentment. It was something deeper, more complete—like the last bit of light in someone's heart being snuffed out. Her eyes went hollow, her whole body like a plant torn from its roots, losing all support, hanging limp in the guards' grip.

I turned away before I could see more.

Leah's injury wasn't serious—just a bruise. Some ointment would fix it. But she acted deeply wronged—sitting in the chair with gauze wrapped around her arm, occasionally sobbing like a bullied kitten.

"Your Majesty..." She looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "I know I shouldn't care about these things... but I'm the public Luna now. If I just let people push me around and do nothing, what will others think of me?"

I leaned against the window, fingers tapping the sill. "What do you want?"

She lowered her head, silent for a few seconds, then said softly, "I want her... to apologize to me publicly."

"Apologize?"

"On her knees." She added, voice even softer, like she was afraid to startle me. "Just once. So everyone knows I'm not to be messed with."

I stared at her.

On her knees.