CROWN OF FORBIDDEN HEARTS
Chapter 49: SEALED WITH A KISS

Chapter 49: 49: SEALED WITH A KISS

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Alaric hadn’t been able to focus all day. No matter what he did, whether attending meetings, overseeing the guards, or even training, his mind kept circling back to her. The queen. His queen.

The memory of the previous night clung to him, suffocating in its weight. He had gone too far. He had let his hunger, his need for dominance, overpower the one thing that should have mattered most, her will.

For the first time in a long time, Alaric felt something he barely recognized.

Regret.

It was foreign, unwelcome, but unshakable.

Alaric had never been a man to second-guess himself.

Yet today, he found himself hesitating, pausing, and above all, thinking about every action before he took it.

Without fully understanding why, he spent the entire day trying to appease her.

He stood in the grand hall that overlooked the kitchens, watching the palace servants bustle about.

The scent of freshly brewed tea drifted through the air, laced with the faintest hint of honey and jasmine her favorite.

A servant approached him hesitantly, wringing his hands. "My Lord, you requested the queen’s tea be prepared exactly to her liking?"

Alaric folded his arms across his chest. "Did I say to tell her it was from me?"

The servant quickly shook his head. "No, my Lord. We will only deliver it as a simple refreshment."

Alaric gave a curt nod. "Good. Make sure it’s warm when it reaches her chambers."

The servant bowed before hurrying off.

By the time noon arrived, Alaric found himself standing at the door of the queen’s chambers, watching as two palace attendants adjusted the heavy velvet drapes to allow in more sunlight. A fire had already been stoked in the hearth, casting the room in a comforting warmth.

He turned to the steward standing beside him. "This will be done every evening before the sun sets."

The steward bowed. "Of course, my Lord. And shall we inform the queen—"

"No." Alaric’s response was immediate, sharp. "Just do it. She doesn’t need to know it was by my command."

The steward hesitated but wisely did not question him further.

As the day stretched on, Alaric found himself lingering in the corridors where he knew The queen might pass. He never spoke to her. He never got too close. But he watched, ensuring she was well, ensuring that even in his silence, she was taken care of.

But Zara was no fool.

That evening, as the last streaks of sunlight faded beyond the horizon, she found him.

Alaric had just dismissed one of the palace stewards when a familiar voice rang out from behind him.

"My Lord Warlord," she said smoothly, the title like a blade on her tongue. "You wouldn’t happen to know why my chambers have been unnaturally warm as of late, would you?"

Alaric turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Is there a problem with the temperature, my queen?"

She took a slow step forward, tilting her head. "No, but I do find it odd that my tea arrives perfectly brewed, that my rooms are prepared before I even step inside, and that I seem to have invisible hands smoothing my path wherever I go."

He smirked slightly, but there was no arrogance in it, only quiet amusement. "Perhaps your attendants are finally doing their job properly."

She narrowed her eyes. "I think you’ve been sending them."

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t break eye contact. "If that’s what you choose to believe."

Her lips parted, as if she had expected a confession, some kind of admission of guilt. But Alaric only stood there, unmoving, unreadable.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "So, you’re going to lie to my face?"

Alaric took a slow step closer. Not too close, but enough that the air between them thickened. His voice was low, steady. "I swear on my life, My Queen, none of those things were done under my command."

She blinked, caught off guard by the sheer truth in his voice.

For a moment, she almost believed him. Almost.

But she knew better.

And as she turned away, she could feel his eyes on her, watching, ensuring she was well, just as he had been all day.

And he would never admit it.

When night fell, and he stood at the window of his chambers, watching the moon cast its pale glow over Calithea, a realization struck him with the force of a blade to the chest.

He couldn’t hold her against her will.

He couldn’t keep her like this.

She should have the choice to want him, or not at all.

And for the first time since he had placed the love bind upon her, he knew what he had to do.

He had to let her go.

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The council chamber was filled with voices, men debating, arguing, trying to assert themselves as the true leaders of the kingdom.

But then, Zara spoke.

And they fell silent.

She had grown into her power, into her role as queen, so effortlessly that even the men who had once dismissed her could do nothing but listen.

Seated beside her, Alaric watched.

He had always known she was powerful. He had always admired the fire in her spirit. and since he bound her with the spell, he hadn’t seen this side of her come out but all of a sudden now he finds her being more bold and he wondered if this was because of the way he has been kind and warm to her lately (he still had no idea the spell had been lifted) Seeing her now, in this position, Alaric knew that this was her true self and it made something in his chest tighten.

She didn’t need him.

and she didn’t need to be bound to him, by him.

And yet, gods help him, he wanted her to choose him.

Later that night, as the halls emptied and the world quieted, Alaric made his way to Scarlet’s chamber.

She was waiting for him, a knowing smirk on her lips. "You’ve come to release her, haven’t you?"

His jaw clenched. "Undo the spell."

Scarlet tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Are you sure?"

His hands curled into fists. "Now."

A long pause. Then, Scarlet chuckled and waved a lazy hand. "There’s nothing to undo."

Alaric stilled. "What?"

"The love bind is already gone," she said, her voice dripping amusement. "I removed it before you even thought to ask."

His heart stopped.

If the spell was gone, if there was no magic binding her to him then the way she had looked at him today, the way she had commanded the room, the way she had spoken to him without hatred in her voice—

It had all been real?

His pulse thundered as Scarlet gave him a knowing look. "You should go to her."

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Zara sat by the fire in her chamber, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions.

Something had changed.

For days, she had felt an unnatural pull toward Alaric, one she had despised, one she had fought against with everything in her. But today...

Today, the pull had vanished.

And yet, her heart still ached for him.

A knock at the door had her stiffening. She didn’t need to ask who it was. She could feel him before he even stepped inside.

Alaric entered slowly, his expression unreadable. He looked different tonight, not the arrogant, untouchable warlord, but a man standing on the edge of something uncertain.

He exhaled sharply. "The spell is gone?"

Zara flinched a little. "she told you."

A pause. His hands clenched at his sides. "And yet, you’re still here."

She swallowed, searching herself for an answer. Why was she still here?

Because despite everything... despite the pain, despite the war, despite the fact that he had taken everything from her...

She didn’t walk away from him.

Alaric took a slow step forward, his voice low, rough. "I need to know, Lysandra. Was it all the spell? Or..." He hesitated, then forced out the words. "Or was some of it real?"

Her breath caught.

She wanted to lie. She wanted to say that every moment between them had been forced, fabricated, a cruel trick of magic.

But the truth was a prison she couldn’t escape.

Some of it had been real.

Some of it had been hers.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

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The space between them felt unbearable.

Alaric moved first.

One step. Then another. Then another, until he was close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that if she just tilted her head, if she just reached out, she would be in his arms again.

"I will never take your choice from you again," he whispered, his voice raw with conviction. "If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you."

Zara lifted her chin, her heart hammering. "And if I stay?"

Alaric exhaled shakily, his gaze searching hers. "Then I will spend every day proving that I am a man worthy of you."

Silence. A battle of wills.

Then, finally, Zara spoke.

"You have a long way to go, Warlord."

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Then I suppose I should start now."

And before she could stop him, before she could even take another breath, Alaric reached for her, his fingers grazing her cheek, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was no longer forced, no longer bound by magic but entirely, devastatingly real.