CROWN OF FORBIDDEN HEARTS
Chapter 39: PERHAPS THERE WAS HOPE

Chapter 39: 39: PERHAPS THERE WAS HOPE

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The morning light barely filtered through the heavy curtains of the royal chambers, casting a dim glow over the bed where Zara lay, her body aching with exhaustion. Every inch of her felt weighed down, as though shackled by an invisible force, and in a way, she was. The spell had taken root so deeply that she could feel its suffocating grip tightening around her very soul. Thoughts that should have belonged to her alone were no longer safe. The spell twisted them, tainted them, reshaped them to align with him.

Alaric.

His presence beside her was suffocating, his warmth an unwelcome reminder of her imprisonment.

His arm draped over her waist in a possessive hold, as though even in sleep, he sought to claim her. His breathing was slow, steady, as if he had no care in the world. As if the universe had bent itself to his will and given him everything he desired.

For him, it was a victory.

For her, it was a nightmare she could not wake from.

Zara forced herself to remain still, her heart pounding against her ribs as she carefully measured her breaths. The slightest movement could wake him, and she wasn’t ready to face him, not yet. She needed a moment. A moment to gather whatever strength she had left. A moment to remind herself of who she truly was, the woman who had once ruled a kingdom, still the woman who had once loved fiercely and fought even harder.

But the moment she shifted slightly, his grip tightened.

"You’re awake." His voice was rough with sleep, but there was a sharpness to it, a warning.

Zara closed her eyes for a brief second, willing herself to stay calm. She didn’t respond. She didn’t trust her own voice, afraid it might betray the storm brewing inside her.

Alaric propped himself up on one elbow, his piercing gaze raking over her face. He exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek before gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"You lied to me." His tone was quiet, but the restrained fury in his voice made her skin crawl. "You played the role of a submissive wife, but the moment my back was turned, you tried to flee."

She refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Her silence only seemed to fuel his anger.

His fingers tightened on her jaw. "I warned you, didn’t I? That trying to defy me would only make things worse for you?"

Her throat ached with unspoken words, but she refused to break. She refused to show weakness.

Alaric smirked at her defiance, his piercing gaze drinking in every flicker of resistance in her eyes as if it thrilled him. "Scarlet is coming," he announced, his voice deceptively calm.

Zara’s stomach dropped. The name alone sent a shiver down her spine, but the way he said it, so casual, so certain, it made her blood run cold.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she forced herself to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "What for?"

Alaric tilted his head, watching her with something dangerously close to amusement. His grip on her jaw loosened just enough for his thumb to drag slowly over her lower lip, a mockery of tenderness.

"She will reinforce the spell." His words dripped with satisfaction, as if he were savoring the inevitable. "This time, you won’t even have the thought of rebellion."

Zara’s body went rigid, a slow, suffocating dread curling around her like a tightening noose. The spell had already sunk its claws deep into her, blurring the lines between hatred and desire, making her body betray her at every turn. It was a war she was losing, one that chipped away at her will every time he touched her, every time she found herself trembling under his hands when she should have recoiled.

If Scarlet strengthened it, she might truly lose herself.

She tried to steady her breathing, but her chest felt tight, the air suddenly too thick to swallow. "You can’t do this," she whispered, her voice raw, breaking under the weight of her own desperation. "You can’t—"

Alaric’s laughter was soft but cruel, vibrating against her skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "I can do whatever I want, my love." His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his grip tightening just enough to remind her of her helplessness. "You are mine."

Zara squeezed her eyes shut, every fiber of her being screaming in protest, but the worst part? the most terrifying part? was the way her body shivered in response.

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An hour later, Scarlet arrived. The air in the chamber grew thick with an oppressive presence as she stepped forward, her crimson robes flowing behind her like a pool of freshly spilled blood. Her sharp, calculating eyes flickered between Zara and Alaric, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

Scarlet immediately pulls Alaric to the corner, demanding private audience with him "You’re sure about this?" Scarlet asked, tilting her head slightly. "If you push her too far, she may not come back from it."

Alaric’s expression darkened. "I don’t care. Strengthen it."

Zara’s pulse hammered in her ears. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Don’t."

Scarlet’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, she lifted her hands and began chanting.

The air grew thick, pressing against Zara’s chest like an unbearable weight. She gasped, her body convulsing as invisible chains wrapped around her very soul, binding her tighter to him. Her heartbeat slowed, her skin burned with unnatural heat, and an unbearable warmth flooded her veins. The spell dug deeper, threading its influence into the marrow of her bones. It made her need him. Crave him.

Zara gasped, clutching at the sheets, her body betraying her as she arched toward him despite the revulsion clawing at her mind.

"No," she whimpered, but the spell was stronger. Too strong.

Alaric cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her trembling lips. "See? You belong to me, Zara. No matter how much you resist, I will always own you."

Tears burned in her eyes as the horror of her reality sank in deeper. She had fought so hard, and now, the battle was slipping through her fingers like sand.

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Later that day, a council meeting was called. Zara sat beside Alaric, her hands folded in her lap, her face an unreadable mask. But inside, she was screaming.

The council members debated over matters of the kingdom, their voices strained with forced politeness, but the tension in the room was suffocating. Every word felt like stepping over thin ice, fragile and doomed to crack under the weight of Alaric’s wrath. He was more ruthless than ever, his paranoia sharpening his temper, turning every discussion into a battle where only his voice mattered.

"You dare question me?" Alaric snarled, his piercing gaze locking onto an older councilman who had hesitantly voiced concern over the rising taxes. His tone alone was enough to make the man shrink in his seat. "I should have your head for your insolence."

The man paled, his throat bobbing as he lowered his gaze. "My king, I only meant—"

Alaric’s goblet slammed onto the table with a sharp crack, the deep red wine spilling over the polished wood like fresh blood. "You forget who rules this land," he seethed. His fingers flexed against the armrest of his throne as if itching for violence. "Do not make that mistake again."

Zara’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table, her nails digging into her palms. She could see it now, the cracks forming in his reign, the subtle shift in the air as fear coiled around the room like a choking fog. The council obeyed him, but their silence was not loyalty. It was self-preservation. And fear, when left unchecked, did not inspire devotion, it bred resentment.

And resentment, if nurtured correctly, could turn into rebellion.

Perhaps, there was still hope.

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That evening, Alaric cornered her in their chambers. He had been drinking, but his gaze was sharp, calculating.

"You were very quiet today," he murmured, stepping closer. "Observing, weren’t you?"

Zara didn’t move as he trailed his fingers down her arm.

"Tell me, my queen," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder. "What are you plotting in that pretty little head of yours?"

Zara swallowed hard. The spell made her shiver at his touch, made her lean into him despite the disgust twisting in her stomach. She hated this. Hated how powerless she was becoming.

Alaric’s grip suddenly tightened. "You think you still have a choice?" he growled. "You don’t. You are mine. You will always be mine." he said, at this point, it had become obvious that Alaric spoke from a place of insecurity.

And then, he claimed her again.

This time, she couldn’t even summon the will to resist.

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As she lay awake that night, Alaric sleeping beside her, the weight of her situation crushed her completely.

Her mind was slipping. Her body was no longer her own.

And now, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on before she lost herself completely.