Page 65 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

Vela.

She wore a silver-white gown, hem studded with tiny crystals that refracted brilliant light under the stage lights. Her hair was deep brown, falling loose over her shoulders, slightly curled ends resting at her collarbones. She wore an elegant silver mask—covering the upper half of her face, revealing only graceful jawline and full lips.

She walked to center stage. Stopped.

Spotlights bathed her in soft radiance.

She lowered her head slightly, hands clasped before her, as if offering a brief prayer.

Then she raised her head and began to sing.

In that instant, the whole world stopped.

Her voice—I don't know how to describe it. Clear, bright, like moonlight piercing clouds to fall on a lake. Every note landed precisely somewhere unknown, resonating in my chest, tingling my scalp, making my fingers unconsciously grip the armrest.

This wasn't technique. This was something more primal, more essential. Like her soul speaking through sound, bypassing ears to strike straight at the heart.

I felt my eyes burning.

I blinked, forcing myself to stay calm.

Her voice continued for two hours. Twelve songs, each a different world. By the final one, her voice carried a barely perceptible weariness—but remained impossibly perfect.

When the last note fell, the venue was silent for about three seconds.

Then thunderous applause.

Everyone stood, cheering, screaming, applause endless. She stood center stage, bowed slightly, then turned toward backstage.

I stood, quickly leaving the box.

Now was the time.

Backstage security was tighter than I'd expected.

Two men in black suits guarded the entrance, arms crossed over their chests, expressionless as they watched me.

"Sorry, sir, no one enters backstage without Miss Vela's permission."

"I'm King Zane of Moonhowl Kingdom. Please inform her."

One guard raised his radio and spoke softly. After a moment, he shook his head. "Miss Vela says she's too tired today. Another time. Your Majesty, please understand."

"Your Majesty" from his mouth carried professional respect but no fawning. His position was clear. Even a king had to follow Miss Vela's rules.

Another time.

I took a deep breath, suppressing surging emotions. "Please tell her I really have something important—"

"She already knows, Your Majesty." The guard's tone remained polite but stance unwavering. "She said if it's about inviting her to perform in Moonhowl Kingdom, she already responded in her letter. She appreciates your sentiment, but she's very busy and has no time."

He paused, adding in a slightly softer tone, "Your Majesty, honestly, Miss Vela's tour schedule is booked through next summer. Invitations pile up in her office—over a dozen from royal houses alone. Her declining you isn't personal—she treats everyone the same."

It sounded like comfort but didn't make me feel better.

He stepped back, making a "please leave" gesture. Respectful motion but firm attitude.

I stood there, staring at that door leading backstage.