Alpha's Healer

8

Alpha King Dimitrio.

My eyes turned yellow last night but I believe it was due to desire. Yes, yellow eyes means that a wolf is in the presence of their mate which explains desire, a need. But that is impossible because the only woman in front of me was a wolfen. There is no way a wolfen can be the mate of a Gevaudan like me—she is neither gamma, beta or omega. She cannot have a mate.

Therefore, I have come to terms that it was simply because I have been concerning myself with the matter of state. I haven’t indulged in the intimate joys life has to offer.

And yes, I caught her…stealing a glance at me when I wouldn’t suspect. I cannot help but chuckle. Now, I know that she secretly takes glances at me. But what changed? Is it because I kissed her? Regardless of the reason why she was gazing at me, my thoughts divert when Mureok is brought in by the war gammas. He is none other than my half brother who used to be king. After I rode an army to Gethmorn to shook its foundations, I still wanted to play fair even if my army could have easily joined hands to take Mureok off the throne.

I needed to make my rule legitimate and worthy of being accepted. I want to be remembered as the king who beat his half-brother—fair and square. Thus, we threw a sword at each other in this throne room and, we fought. At the end, my sword rested on his neck and even when I could have finished him off, I resisted.

Mureok’s jaw is set in a firm line, his eyes are cold and unyielding as they bore into the mine. While his gaze fixed upon me, I see a mixture of defiance and contempt. Next, I stare at the division in my court. The ministers and officials are in separate groups, I could hear their voices from the hallway and I know they are having a dispute over my decision.

I did not get rid of the former ministers that Mureok and my father put in place because I am not a tyrant in every aspect. I want to have around me people who know the kingdom like the back of their hands. On one hand, there are a majority of officials who have raised a petition to release my half-brother and on the other, there is a minority who insist that Mureok is a thorn to the throne and should be killed.

Despite the chains that bound his wrists and ankles, there is an undeniable aura of strength about Mureok, a testament to his anger. His cheeks, once full and rosy, now appeared gaunt and hollow, evidence of the meagre rations and lack of sunlight in his underground prison. The stubble that covered his jawline spoke of weeks without access to a razor or the simple comfort of grooming.

“Speak to me.” I say.

“Your majesty, my king…”

“We have submitted more than a hundred petition for weeks, explaining our argument as to why Prince Mureok, her royal majesty and the princess should have an opportunity to lead a normal life under your reign by your mercy.” Minister Bankroft says, he is a friend to the throne, to be precise, he is a friend to her royal majesty, the Queen Selena—the woman who poisoned by mother.

“What is your argument Bankroft?” I ask.

“Mureok is your brother. You didn’t take his life after winning against him, your majesty, you relucted for a moment because there lies a blood tie. You have the legitimate claim on Gethmorn…there is no need to spill blood.” Bankroft says.

“Out of forty members of my court, thirty-four are in support of Mureok’s release. How do you expect me to believe that this isn’t another plot of treason to reinstate him? It is clear that your loyalties lie with him.” I say and they look at each other, offering answers to one another before they present it to me.

“Your majesty, I would like to say. Mureok was king three months ago, even the servants are still getting adjusted to that fact. I fear that it is too early to be debating his release.” Khiel says, a minister on the minority says.

“He is a prince for the moon goddess’s sake! A king that is imprisoned in the lowly dungeons, is it until he is sick with some questionable ailment we can proceed with his release!?” A minister from the majority barks.

“Your majesty, the princess and her royal majesty should be sent to live in quietness at least. You must consider them and be merciful.” Bankroft says to me.

“Her royal majesty is rumoured to be the one behind the death and poisoning of King Dimitrio’s mother. She will go nowhere.” Allen says and the ministers stare at him with shock. Mureok lifts his head, his eyes are flourishing with anger and trepidation at the topic of his mother.

“There is no proof of that, your majesty.” Bankroft says, glaring at Allen and a scowl develops on my face.

“At least, allow a physician to take a look at Prince Mureok’s body. Yes, he is your prisoner but he’s also your own blood, a royal of this kingdom…he is not a foreign enemy of this kingdom that we must treat with disdain. His only crime was being king after his father.” David, a member of the majority adds to the argument. I am getting pissed at this point—all this talk about him being sick as a reason to release him from the dungeon is getting on my nerves.

“Healer!” I shout, remembering that I have one at my very disposal. She jumps when I call her name and I use my hands to beckon her.

“Come here.” I say, and even if her eyes are averted from mine. Elizabeth is there to push her to my command. As she enters the courtroom, all eyes are turned to her, the ministers look at her in shock—whispers envelope the throne room in a second due to the colour of her eyes. They are blue, gleaming like sapphires—their cerulean hue is vibrant, drawing you in like a mesmerizing whirlpool. There is a soft shine in her eyes that adds depth to her gaze as she seems to glide rather than walk. The flowing uniform, a vibrant crimson hue, hugs her figure in the waist, drawing attention to her slender frame. High cheekbones, a pert nose, and full lips.

“Your majesty, she has blue eyes…she is wolfen!” Bankroft says, looking back at me in horror and I place a hand over my face.

“Yes, I can see that. She is a healer from the healing village also.” I say and they begin to talk amongst each other, filling the place with noise. With controlled motion, I bring my hand down upon the armrest of his throne, banging it twice to ease the noise.

“Stop feasting your eyes on the healer and remember the topic of your petition. Wolfen, I want you to take a look at my half brother Mureok, tell me if he has any illnesses.” I say, and the guards who are in charge of holding Mureok give her space to take a look at him. I place a hand onto my lips, watching her take hesitant steps to him. The sound of every individual in the throne dies out.

I watch as she stands in front of him. She is saying something to the guards who are holding him and I squint my eyes.

“Your majesty, I would like to feel his pulse. But I cannot do so as he his bound.” She says, gazing to the floor and I tap my hands repeatedly.

“Do as she says.” I reply and the guards loosen the cuffs on Mureok’s hands.

With gentle hands, she places her fingers upon his wrist, feeling the rhythm of his pulse beneath her touch. Her brows furrow slightly as she concentrates, it seems her senses are attuned to the subtle nuances of his heartbeat.

Watching her perform her mindless act, I would say she is pretending to bridge the gap between worlds. After reading his pulse, annoyance clouds my face as I watch her reach for his face, gazing at him and it is as if there is more to it. I roll my eyes, and she turns to me, hands on her stomach and eyes everywhere that isn’t me.

“Your majesty, Prince Mureok is dehydrated. His pulse shows weakness, a sign of starvation and lack of nutrition. The colour of his eyes are a bit pale, this can be rooted to lack of sunlight and depression.” She says and the majority nod their head to what she is saying. All of a sudden, they don’t care that she is a wolfen—her words are making sense because it is in favour to Mureok.

“Your majesty, prince Muroek has been in the dungeons for three months and we have been waiting for your decision regarding his freedom. Please, grant us your judgement. A majority of your court are against his banishment and a minority are for it.” Bankroft says.

“Your majesty, you are king. Your officials cannot give you an ultimatum on what to do with the prisoner!” Minister Khiel says. At the

“Prisoner! He is the prince of Gethmorn, hold your fat tongue!” David yells back, raising a hand to Khiel.

“A prince in chains is a prisoner!” Khiel yells back.

“That’s enough, both of you…” I seethe.

“Mureok, I am not going to kill you. It is true that despite going to war against you, we are half-brothers—we share the same father. It is not your fault that you were king when I conquered Gethmorn. However, we do have bad blood but if you swear in the face of the ministers, the throne and to yourself that I am true king of Gethmorn….and bow to my legitimacy, I will give you back your freedom.” I say and he lifts his head to look at me.

“What about my mother?” Mureok asks, his tone, though tempered by the gravity of his shackles holds an unmistakable undertone of defiance.

“What about her?” I ask.

“You wish to punish her for a crime she did not commit.” Mureok seethes and my jaw twitches.

“I have not punished her yet. When I have my proof, I will. I will make her eat poison in front of the world and I will wait for her to die.” I say and the scowl on Mureok’s face deepens.

Afterwards, he begins to descend to the ground. His descent is slow, marked by the strain etched upon his face. Every muscle in his body seems to protest against the effort, his movements are stiff and unsteady.

As he finally reaches the ground, he lets go of the tightness in his hands and his lips part to speak.

“I surrender, King Dimitiro Seraphon…" he begins, each word is weighed down by the weight of defeat.

"I bow to your authority, acknowledging your sovereignty over Gethmorn, over the people of Gethmorn and over my life. I recognize that you are the legitimate ruler of the throne, fought fair and square where I was defeated. My days as king has been relinquished but yours is a new beginning.” Mureok says.

“Thank you.” I say, gazing at him.

“You are a free man, a royal…and you will have those privileges. You must take residence in the Crimson estate, if the princess and your mother wishes to go with you, I allow it. You are welcome to be a member of this court as well if you deign yourself ready!” I say, getting up in an instance and walking out of the throne room. There are no words needed to elucidate that my judgement has been released and our meeting has been adjourned.