The King’s Servant, The Alpha’s Queen

Chapter 29

POV: Francesca

Bodies lay scattered across the marble floor, goblets shattered beside limp hands, silk gowns smeared with wine and blood.

Those still standing coughed and staggered, clutching at their throats as servants screamed and fled toward the doors. The music had died mid-note, leaving only the sound of choking breaths, panicked sobs, and shouted commands echoing beneath the chandeliers.

I knelt beside a fallen lord, my hands glowing faintly as I forced air back into his lungs, but the poison was clever and cruel. It did not burn like ordinary toxins. It tightened. It closed. It suffocated life without mercy.

“Francesca,” Wilhelm called sharply, his voice strained. “It’s spreading.”

“I know,” I answered, teeth clenched. “I can slow it, not stop it.”

My heart pounded as I searched the room, my instincts screaming that the source had not fled. Poison like this was never cast and abandoned. It demanded a witness.

Then she stepped forward.

Rosalinda emerged from the shadows near the pillars, her posture composed, her white gown pristine despite the chaos around her. Only she remained, framed by terror and dying breath like a queen surveying a battlefield she had designed.

“Enough,” Rosalinda said calmly, her voice carrying with unnatural clarity. “This can end now.”

Wilhelm turned toward her, fury blazing openly. “You did this.”

Rosalinda smiled faintly. “Of course. You all were so happy and busy with celebrations that you forgot about the queen.”

I rose slowly, placing myself between her and Luka without conscious thought. “If you have an antidote,” I said coldly, “you will give it now.”

“Under one condition.” She turned her gaze deliberately to Luka. “I will save the court if I am promised marriage to the heir.”

The words hit like a blade.

“No,” I said instantly, my voice sharp with command. “Absolutely not.”

Rosalinda’s eyes flicked to me, irritation flashing beneath her calm. “You don’t decide this,” she replied. “You never did.”

Wilhelm stepped forward. “You will not touch my son.”

“I don’t intend to touch him,” Rosalinda said smoothly. “I intend to become his queen.”

Luka stood very still between us, his face pale but his eyes clear. I felt his wolf beneath the surface, coiled and watchful.

“This is extortion,” Wilhelm said. “You will die for this.”

Rosalinda laughed softly. “If I die, so does half your court,” she said. “And your precious reign will begin with a massacre.”

I reached for Luka’s arm, my grip instinctive and desperate. “Don’t listen to her,” I whispered. “We will find another way.”

Luka turned toward me, and I saw something in his expression that made my breath catch. Not fear or confusion but resolve.

“Mother,” he said gently, “there is no other way.”

My heart stuttered. “Luka, no.”

He took my hands in his, squeezing them firmly. “She’s right about one thing,” he said. “People are dying.”

Emerika pushed forward from the edge of the crowd, her face streaked with tears, her hands shaking. “Luka, please,” she begged. “She’s lying. She’ll never stop.”

Luka turned to her, his gaze softening. “I know,” he said quietly. “But trust me.”

She shook her head violently. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promised.

I searched his face desperately, trying to understand what he was doing. “You’re my son,” I said, my voice breaking. “I won’t let you be sacrificed again.”

Luka smiled at me then, small and strange. “I was born into sacrifice,” he said. “This time, I choose how it ends.”

He turned back to Rosalinda and lifted his chin. “I accept,” he said clearly. “I will marry you.”

A wave of shock rippled through the room. Everyone gasped.

“No!” Wilhelm roared, taking a step forward.

Luka raised one hand, stopping him. “Father,” he said calmly, “this is my decision.”

Rosalinda’s eyes gleamed with triumph as she approached Luka, her smile widening. “Wise,” she said. “Very wise.”

Emerika collapsed against a pillar, sobbing, her hands covering her mouth. I felt my chest tighten painfully as I watched her break, watched Luka turn away from her to face the woman who had tried to erase him.

“Then we agreed,” Rosalinda continued. “I save the court. You give me a crown.”

Luka nodded once. “One condition. We seal the agreement here. With a toast.”

A murmur spread through the remaining guests. Rosalinda hesitated only a moment before smiling again.

“Of course,” she said. “A celebration deserves a toast.”

Luka took a goblet from a fallen tray, then another. He held one out to Rosalinda. “To the future,” he said.

She accepted it, her fingers brushing his, her gaze never leaving his face. “To our reign,” she replied.

I stared at the goblets, dread twisting sharply in my gut. “Luka,” I whispered.

He did not look at me. Instead, he raised his glass higher. “To peace,” he said loudly, his voice carrying across the room. “And to an end to suffering.”

Rosalinda lifted her goblet and drank. The effect was not immediate.

She smiled, savoring victory, then took another sip, as if to prove her dominance. “You see?” she said lightly. “Nothing—”

Her words cut off.

Rosalinda’s hand flew to her mouth as she coughed sharply. Her eyes widened, confusion cracking through her triumph. She staggered back a step, the goblet slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor.

“What did you do?” she gasped.

Luka did not move. “I planned it,” he said calmly.

Rosalinda’s breath came in harsh, broken pulls as she clutched her chest. “You—” She coughed again, and this time blood spilled freely over her lips.

Her pristine white gown bloomed red.

Shock rippled through the room as Rosalinda collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as she tried to claw air into lungs that refused to obey. She looked up at Luka, disbelief and fury twisting her features.

“You poisoned me,” she rasped.

“You did it,” Luka replied. “I just made sure the antidote was already distributed. Except to you.”

She fell forward onto the marble, blood pooling beneath her, her breath stuttering into silence.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then the room erupted into gasps, sobs, and frantic movement as those who had been poisoned began to breathe again, the antidote finally taking hold. Wilhelm stared at Luka, stunned and furious and proud all at once.

I rushed forward and pulled my son into my arms, holding him tightly as if the world might still try to steal him away. “You made this,” I whispered.

Luka closed his eyes briefly. “I learned from monsters,” he said softly. “So they would never win again.”

Behind us, Rosalinda lay motionless, her ambition bleeding out across the ballroom floor. And the kingdom took its breath back.