CROWN OF FORBIDDEN HEARTS
Chapter 57: LYSANDRA!

Chapter 57: 57: LYSANDRA!

The morning light seeped through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a golden hue across the vast chamber. A hushed silence lingered, broken only by the soft breathing of the woman lying in the grand, canopied bed.

Then—

A sudden rustle. A sharp inhale.

The queen stirred.

The room erupted into motion. Servants rushed forward, their hushed whispers turning into frantic murmurs as they gathered around the bedside. Soft hands adjusted her pillows, another dabbed a damp cloth across her brow. A cup of warm herbal tea was pressed to her lips, but the queen barely acknowledged it.

She was awake.

And as soon as word spread through the palace, the news reached him.

Alaric had been sitting in his war room, his hands gripping the edges of the table, his mind clouded with strategy and frustration. The remnants of the assassination attempt haunted him—who had dared to attack him in his own palace? Who had sent the note? But the moment a messenger burst through the doors, breathless and urgent, everything else ceased to matter.

"The queen is awake."

He did not hesitate.

The chair scraped against the marble floor as he shot to his feet, his long strides carrying him swiftly through the halls. Guards and servants alike stepped aside, lowering their heads as their king stormed past, his expression unreadable.

But inside, his chest was tight.

She was awake.

He pushed open the heavy doors of her chamber with force, and his breath caught at the sight before him.

Zara was sitting up against the pillows, her silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes still heavy with sleep yet full of life. Her pale fingers rested against the soft sheets, her breathing slow, measured.

For a moment, he simply stared.

And then, he moved.

Alaric crossed the distance between them in an instant, his movements uncharacteristically gentle as he lowered himself beside her. Without a word, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into the warmth of his embrace.

His lips brushed against her forehead, lingering there as he exhaled deeply, his body finally releasing the tension it had held for hours. His grip tightened just slightly, as if afraid she would disappear from his hold.

"You scared me," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "When the assassins came, I... I regretted not having you beside me. I regretted not holding you, not protecting you myself."

His fingers traced the curve of her back, his touch reverent.

"I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you, Zara. The thought—" His breath hitched, and when she pulled back to look at him, she saw something she had never seen before.

Tears.

They shimmered in his golden eyes, unshed yet undeniable.

Zara’s lips parted in shock.

Alaric. Crying.

She had seen him in battle. She had seen him wield a sword with terrifying precision, had watched him command armies without a hint of fear. She had witnessed him strike down enemies without hesitation.

Yet now, in this quiet moment, he sat before her, vulnerable.

Zara swallowed, her fingers twitching in her lap. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to say.

So she did the only thing she could.

She reached up, cupping his face gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek. "Alaric..." she murmured, her voice softer than she had ever used with him before.

He shook his head, composing himself quickly, his hand covering hers. "You’re safe now," he said, as if reassuring himself more than her. "That’s all that matters."

A silence stretched between them before Zara finally spoke.

"Tell me everything," she said, her voice steady. "What happened?"

Alaric hesitated.

For a moment, his mind flickered to the note.

It’s over.

The words still burned in his mind, but he didn’t speak of it. Instead, he chose his words carefully, ensuring he told her only what she needed to hear.

"Lady Vaelor came to me this morning," he began. "She had a matter to report, though she never got the chance to speak."

Zara’s brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"As I gave her audience, an arrow shot into my chamber. It shattered through the window, embedding itself in the wall above my head. Chaos erupted."

Zara’s lips parted slightly, but she remained silent, letting him continue.

"As I ran out to mitigate the situation, the intruders were gone. They left no trace."

Zara frowned. "They didn’t fight?"

Alaric shook his head. "No. They struck and vanished."

A shiver ran down her spine.

"After that, I checked on you," he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I had to make sure you were safe."

Zara swallowed.

"But when I returned to my chambers..." Alaric’s jaw tightened. "Lady Vaelor was on the ground. Soaked in blood. An arrow had struck her back. She was barely alive. I called for the royal physicians to tend to her immediately."

Zara felt a sharp pang in her chest.

Lady Vaelor.

She had never particularly liked the woman, but that did not matter. The thought of someone—anyone—suffering so close to her made her stomach twist. It reminded her of Mirenna.

The memory of her closest friend’s lifeless body flashed before her eyes.

Without a second thought, Zara threw the sheets off her legs and ran.

"

"LYSANDRA!"

Alaric’s voice thundered behind her, but she didn’t stop.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else—the startled gasps of servants, the heavy footfalls of guards, the echo of her own breathless panic. The cold stone numbed the soles of her bare feet, but she barely felt it.

All she knew was that she had to keep moving.

Her white nightgown billowed behind her like a phantom, the loose fabric whipping against her legs as she raced down the dimly lit corridor. The chandeliers above flickered with the sudden gust of her movements, casting long, wavering shadows against the walls.

She didn’t know why the fear clawed at her so violently.

She didn’t understand why the very thought of Lady Vaelor’s lifeless body sent a chill down her spine so sharp it made her breath hitch.

But she knew she had to see her.

She had to know.

The memory of Mirenna’s cold, bloodied hands flashed before her eyes, the way her body had gone limp in Zara’s arms, her warmth slipping away like sand between her fingers. The grief of it still lived in her bones, an unhealed wound that festered with every loss, every reminder.

She would not let another person disappear without seeing them one last time.

Her pulse roared as she turned sharply into another hallway—

Strong arms caught her.

A gasp tore from her lips as her body was yanked backward, her momentum abruptly halted.

"Enough!"

She collided against the solid warmth of him, her back pressing against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist in an iron grip. His breath was hot against her temple, ragged from the chase, his heartbeat hammering just as violently as hers.

"What do you think you’re doing?" His voice was low, edged with something sharp—something she couldn’t quite name.

"Let me go, Alaric!" she hissed, her voice shaking with urgency as she writhed in his grasp.

His hold did not waver.

"You just woke up—"

"I don’t care!" she cut him off, her voice rising, her hands gripping his forearms in a desperate attempt to pry herself free.

He cursed under his breath, his muscles flexing as he turned her to face him. His golden eyes burned into hers, his grip still firm but no longer forceful.

"Why?" he demanded.

Zara’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

She swallowed hard.

Her throat felt tight.

"Because I know what it feels like to lose someone," she whispered, the words escaping her like an unguarded secret.

Alaric stiffened.

She inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. "And if she dies, I don’t want to be the reason I never saw her alive again."

Silence.

A long, heavy silence that stretched between them, thick with something unspoken.

Alaric’s gaze searched hers, something flickering deep within his golden irises. A war of emotions.

Then, slowly—his grip loosened.

The warmth of his hands fell away, but he did not step back.

Instead, he exhaled, his jaw tightening before he murmured, "Then we go together."

Zara blinked up at him, searching his face for any sign of mockery, of dismissal.

She found none.

No orders. No resistance.

Just the weight of his promise.

Her lips parted slightly, a breathless hesitation lingering between them.

And then, without another word, he took her hand.

His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady, anchoring her as he turned, guiding her through the corridors.

Zara let him.

Because for the first time since she had woken up, she felt something other than panic.

Her heart was calm, she could finally take a breath without each inhalation feeling like a burden, after a long while,

She felt safe.