Page 11 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

A woman dressed like a witch approached, gripping a silver staff, her face intent and certain. She stared at the glowing silver thread in her hand, brow furrowed. "The Silver Thread isn't pointing to this young lady."

The man's smile froze. "What?"

"It's her." The witch's gaze moved past Leah and landed on me.

Every eye in the square turned my way.

Your Majesty? My lips moved unconsciously, betraying my shock.

Oh God. He's the king.

The man who danced with me under the moon, who'd haunted my dreams—he was the king. All my secret hopes suddenly felt both impossibly real and impossibly distant.

But Leah's face darkened. She looked like she couldn't stand the attention shifting to me, as if I'd stolen something that belonged to her.

I didn't have time to worry about her feelings.

I curtsied clumsily, hands flying in frantic gestures. I didn't know what I was signing—probably "hello" and "sorry" and "I didn't mean for this to happen" all jumbled together. My fingers trembled. My heart was trying to escape my chest.

He watched my wild hand movements, frowning. "What is this?"

"Your Majesty, please forgive her." Leah stepped forward, voice gentle but cutting into me like a knife. "She's mute. She can't speak."

Silence hung in the air.

My king's expression changed—his frown deepened, something complicated flashing in his eyes. Surprise? Disappointment? Disgust? I couldn't tell. I only knew his gaze pressed down on me like a heavy stone, crushing the breath from my lungs.

He looked at me. I looked at him. The air suffocated with awkwardness.

Then he spoke, voice low and tired. "Bring them both to the palace. I need to question this young lady—" He paused, glancing between me and Leah. "Since she's your companion, at least she can figure out what you're trying to say. Bring her too."

He meant Leah.

He didn't even look at me again, as if I'd already become a nuisance.

Two guards stepped forward and gestured for us to follow. I didn't resist. I couldn't process what was happening. He saw me. He finally saw me. Even if his eyes held none of the joy or warmth I'd hoped for—at least he saw me.

I was forced to move forward. I looked back once.

He stood in the sunlight, gray-blue eyes following Leah's retreating figure. That look wasn't for me.

The next three days, I was a bird in a cage.

The palace was absurdly huge, with enough corridors to get lost in ten times over. They put me in a lavishly decorated room—silk sheets, velvet curtains, fresh fruit and delicate pastries on the table. But it all made me restless.

Because I couldn't see him.

Day one, I sat by the window, staring at people moving through the garden below, hoping to spot that familiar figure. I told myself he was just busy. Once he finished his work, he'd come find me. That connection from the Howling Ceremony couldn't be fake.

Day two, anxiety set in. I tried to leave, but the guards at my door stopped me, polite but cold. "Miss, please remain in your room."

I gestured frantically: I need to see the king.

He stared at me blankly. Obviously didn't understand a word.

I wanted to kick him. I didn't.

On day three, I finally saw someone besides the guards.