CROWN OF FORBIDDEN HEARTS
Chapter 48: SHE BECOMES COLD

Chapter 48: 48: SHE BECOMES COLD

It had been weeks since the love bind spell had been lifted. Weeks since Zara had stopped looking at him with forced adoration.

And yet, she had not turned away.

She had not pulled back into the shell of hatred she once wielded like armor.

She had changed.

Or perhaps, she had simply begun to see him.

keep in mind that in all of this, Alaric had no idea that the love bind spell had been lifted from Zara, he only thought she was finally warming up to him in spite of the spell. The night stretched long, the flickering fire casting golden hues against the thick velvet curtains that shrouded the windows.

Zara’s breathing had long since settled into the steady rhythm of sleep, but Alaric remained awake, his mind was restless.

Alaric turned slightly, shifting on the mattress. He could feel her warmth beside him, the soft rise and fall of her breath. The room was silent, save for the crackling embers in the hearth.

Then, just as his thoughts drifted into the uncertainty of what the recent events regarding the queen’s behaviour could mean, he felt it, her touch.

It was the faintest movement at first, a slow shift beneath the sheets, but then her hand moved toward him.

Delicate fingers brushed against his forearm, barely grazing the skin. A soft sigh left her lips, and before he could fully process it, her hand slipped over his chest, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his tunic.

She was reaching for him.

And gods help him, she didn’t even realize it.

Alaric froze. His pulse drummed against his ribs, louder than the silence of the room. He wasn’t sure if she was dreaming, if she thought she was still lost in the past, but something about the way her body naturally gravitated toward him made his breath catch.

The woman who once cursed his very existence now clung to him in sleep?

this was confusing Alaric so deeply, had the love spell dwelled so much within her that she now truly loves him?

Alaric had so many questions but too little time to come up with an answer.

Carefully, cautiously, he lowered his hand over hers, his palm covering her smaller fingers.

A part of him expected her to stir, to recoil from his touch, but she didn’t. Instead, she melted further into his warmth, her body relaxing beside him.

Alaric had grown up in the shadow of war, where love was fleeting, and trust was a weapon wielded against the foolish. His earliest memories were stained with blood, his own, his enemies’, his father’s. There had never been warmth, never a moment where he had felt safe enough to simply just BE.

He had learned to live in a state of fight or flight, his body always prepared to strike, his mind always calculating the next move.

Even in sleep, his instincts never rested. He would wake at the faintest sound, a breath out of place, the shift of fabric in the dark. Rest was a vulnerability he couldn’t afford.

But tonight... tonight was different.

The warmth of Zara’s hand pressed against his chest, her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his tunic as if she had reached for him unconsciously. She didn’t realize what she had done, didn’t know that in this single act, this small, human gesture, she had undone him completely.

For the first time in his life, he did not feel the need to be on guard. For the first time in a long time, Alaric allowed himself to close his eyes.

His breathing slowed, his body relaxing against the sheets. And just as the edges of sleep began to pull him under, he whispered so soft and so quiet, it was barely a breath—

"You feel like home."

Zara heard this in her sleep and so her eyes slightly open but she pretends to still be asleep, she didn’t understand why his words riled up so much sympathy within her, why did she feel pity for him? why did she want to give him the warmest, tightest embrace to just show him that everything would be okay.

A knock came at the door just as dawn’s first light seeped through the curtains.

Alaric’s eyes fluttered open, immediately aware of the warmth beside him. He had not moved in the night. And neither had she.

Another knock, firmer this time.

"Your Majesty," came a hesitant voice. "The queen’s attendants await—"

Alaric scowled. "Leave."

A heavy pause. Then hurried footsteps as the attendants retreated.

Zara stirred beside him, groaning softly as she rolled onto her back. "What... what’s happening?"

Alaric turned his head, watching as sleep still clung to her features. Her hair was a dark mess against the pillows, strands tumbling over her shoulder. The sight of her like this, unguarded, vulnerable was something few had ever seen.

And he wasn’t sure why he was allowed to see it now.

"I dismissed them," he said simply.

Zara blinked, rubbing her eyes. "Why?"

Alaric smirked. "Because today, I’m handling my queen’s welfare."

She gave him a doubtful look. "You?"

"Yes, me." He sat up, stretching slightly. "I’ve led armies, conquered cities. I think I can manage drawing a bath and doing all the necessary queen stuff you do."

Zara huffed a small laugh, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "This should be interesting."

THE BATH

The scent of rose and lavender filled the chamber as Alaric poured fragrant oils into the steaming bath. The water rippled with warmth, reflecting the soft golden glow of the morning sun peeking through the windows.

Zara stood at the edge, arms crossed. "You don’t have to do this."

Alaric lifted a brow. "I want to."

She studied him, searching his face for something, hesitation, arrogance, anything at all but there was only quiet determination.

Finally, she sighed and let her robe slip from her shoulders, stepping into the bath. The warmth enveloped her instantly, easing the tension in her muscles. She sank deeper, resting her arms along the edges of the tub, her eyes fluttering shut.

She expected Alaric to leave. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and knelt beside the tub, dipping a cloth into the water.

Zara’s brows furrowed as he wrung out the excess and brought it to her shoulder, gently running it over her skin.

She stiffened slightly. "Alaric..."

He smirked. "Relax, my queen. It’s just a bath."

She hesitated, but as he continued, his touch careful and deliberate, she found herself giving in. His fingers grazed her collarbone as he trailed the cloth along her neck, his movements slow, unhurried.

She should have felt uncomfortable. She should have felt anything but this.

Instead, she sighed, closing her eyes.

For a moment, they simply existed in the quiet rhythm of water and touch.

Then, unexpectedly, Zara let out a soft chuckle.

Alaric paused. "Something funny?"

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "I was just thinking... a year ago, if someone had told me you’d be washing me like this, I’d have thrown a goblet at their head."

Alaric grinned. "I’d have held them down while you did it."

Zara laughed, shaking her head. It was a genuine, real laugh, one that made something in his chest tighten.

When was the last time he’d heard her laugh without bitterness?

He wasn’t sure.

A SHIFT

After the bath, he wrapped a soft towel around her, leading her to the vanity where he sat behind her. He picked up the ivory-handled brush, running his fingers through her damp strands.

Zara arched a brow. "Now you’re brushing my hair?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She hesitated and chuckled. "...No."

He continued in silence, the soft bristles gliding through her hair. He was careful, gentle. Zara found herself relaxing again, letting the motions lull her into calmness.

But then—

Alaric stilled.

His grip on the brush tightened.

She looked up, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

His expression had changed. It was no longer teasing or smug. It was something raw. Something broken.

Then, in a voice so quiet it almost wasn’t there, he murmured, "I’m sorry."

Zara frowned slightly. "For what?"

Alaric exhaled sharply, setting the brush down. His fingers curled into fists against the vanity.

"For Mirenna, Erythian."

The air shifted instantly.

Zara’s breath hitched, her fingers going cold.

Mirenna, Erythian.

The names sliced through the warmth like a blade.

For weeks, Alaric had avoided speaking of it. She had avoided it too, unsure of what it would mean to hear him acknowledge it.

But now, as he sat before her, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched, she realized something—

He regrets it.

Her voice was quiet. "Do you regret it?"

Alaric’s throat bobbed. "Every day."

Zara swallowed. Her heart felt heavy, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

A part of her wanted to say something, anything.

Instead, she whispered, "YOU KILLED THEM"

"I didn’t kill them, I swear to you...some soldiers went rogue and things went haywire" Alaric pleaded.

It was not a lie, he didn’t intend for Erythian or mirenna to die, all he wanted was the queen.

"but you let me believe you killed them just so you could have me under your control" Zara was vexed.

Alaric remained silent.

"your silence tells that im right" she looked disappointed.

"YOU ALSO USED A SPELL TO CONTROL ME, A SPELL IM STILL UNDER, FOR ALL I KNOW, NOTHING I FEEL FOR YOU IS REAL" Zara remarked and Alaric remained silent.

Something inside her turned cold.

Alaric must have felt it too because neither of them spoke again.

When they left for the council chamber, the halls were filled with nobles and servants, all bowing as they passed.

But the warmth from earlier was gone.

And the silence between them was deafening.

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