Page 92 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

He pulled a rolled parchment from his pocket and unfolded it.

It was an official statement. Written in gilt lettering:

"I, Zane Caster, ruler of Moonhowl Kingdom, hereby publicly acknowledge that Mia Turner is my fated mate. I harmed her by believing lies, forcing her to leave. I now declare to all the people—she is innocent. All accusations against her are false. I swear on my crown and my life that from this day forward, I will never let anyone harm her again."

He finished reading the last word and looked up at me.

Those gray-blue eyes held no pride, no royal authority, just something naked and undisguised—pleading.

"Mia," he said, his voice rough, "I know this isn't enough. I know nothing I do can make up for it. But I want everyone to know—you're innocent. You were never any curse."

I felt my eyes burning.

The crowd started murmuring. I saw several elders standing nearby with mixed expressions—some looked furious, some were sweating, some were forcing smiles. Clearly, Zane hadn't consulted them about this "public apology."

Someone in the crowd started clapping.

At first, just a few scattered claps, then more and more, louder and louder, finally becoming thunderous applause. Someone started shouting "Vela!" Others shouted "Luna!"

I stood in that sea of applause and cheers, looking at the man kneeling before me, feeling something churning in my chest.

It was complicated—like watching a mountain you once looked up to crumble before you, standing there watching the rocks tumble and dust fly, thinking: so you can bow your head too.

"Get up," I said, my voice so calm it surprised even me.

He hesitated, then slowly stood.

We faced each other, less than a meter apart. I could smell that familiar cedar scent on him, could see that faint scar at the corner of his eye—left by Ethan's fist, not yet fully healed.

"Nice welcome ceremony," I said, a hint of mockery in my tone. "How long did you rehearse?"

He smiled bitterly. "Probably... since the night I found out you were Vela."

"Efficient."

"I have a lot to make up for. Efficiency is basic."

I looked at him, and he looked at me. The crowd was still cheering, but I felt those sounds growing more distant, like through thick glass.

Then several elders pushed through the crowd toward me.

"Lady Vela," one bowed ninety degrees, his voice sickeningly sweet. "Welcome home! Back then, we were deceived, please don't hold it against us..."

I looked at him, disgust rising in my chest. These people—five years ago they wanted to tie me to a stake, and now that they knew I was Vela, they came crawling with flattery. They changed faces faster than flipping pages.

I didn't bother wasting words on these people, just walked past him. People like this weren't worth a second of my time.

Behind me came another elder's voice, clearly displeased. "Is she really Vela? Probably a fraud—"

Then I heard a dull thud, followed by Zane's icy voice. "Say that again?"

I turned to see Zane's hand on that elder's shoulder, pressing hard enough to twist the man's face. The air seemed to freeze, everyone holding their breath.

"Your Majesty..." the elder managed.

"She is Vela," Zane said, each word like a nail driven into every ear present, his voice not loud but crystal clear. "And she is my fated mate. Anyone who disrespects her is challenging me."

He released his grip. The elder stumbled back several steps, face pale, not daring another word.