THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 127

The fields swallowed Ryker whole. Dry stalks lashed at his face and arms as he pushed through, stumbling more than running, the iron of his chains clattering like a drumbeat of doom. His breath came ragged, shallow, burning with the bite of wolfsbane still coursing through his blood. Each step sent fire through his blistered ankles. Each heartbeat felt as though it might be the last.But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not with Elara’s face burning behind his eyes—the way she had looked in that inn, terror lighting her features, her voice breaking as she screamed for them to stop beating him. The way she had clung to him in that cabin as though he was her only tether to life.“Hold on,” he whispered between panting breaths. His voice broke. “Just hold on for me, Elara.”The grass gave way to rocky ground. His bare feet—stripped of boots in the dungeon—bled against the sharp stones. He staggered, caught himself, staggered again. The wolfsbane poison gnawed at his veins, dragging him down li

The market smelled of yeast and dust.It was the smell Ryker had come to know far too well. A month stretched into two, then three. Days bled together, and with them his grief dulled into a hollow ache, heavy as stone, relentless as fire smoldering under ash.The Baron had found him wandering listlessly on the edge of town, Augustine’s insistence pushing him toward work rather than ruin. And so, Ryker had become what he never imagined he would be: an errand boy.He carried packages. He scrubbed floors. He ran messages between guildsmen too proud to dirty their boots. And now, as the sun beat down on the cobbled square, he stood at the bread stall, his scarred hands carefully weighing loaves of rye and wheat, trying to decide which would most please the Baron’s wife.“Too hard,” the baker’s wife said when he picked up the first. “The Baron will complain.”He set it down, picked up another. “Too soft,” she sniffed.Ryker ground his teeth. He hated this task most of all. He was a fighter

Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Another chance…” The maids bowed again before stepping aside, and as they did, another figure entered the room — taller, dressed in the silver and navy uniform of the royal guard. He carried no velvet box, only a single crystal vase cradled carefully in both hands. “Elijah,” Audrey said in surprise, rising to her feet. “You come bearing flowers now?” The Queen’s man — young, sharp-eyed, and loyal to a fault — smiled faintly. “His Majesty insisted I deliver these personally, my lady.” He placed the vase on the table before her. Inside bloomed a handful of dandelions, their golden heads bright and wild against the crystal. Greer blinked. “Dandelions?” Astrid frowned. “How… modest.” Faye’s smile deepened knowingly. “No. How thoughtful.” Audrey tilted her head, drawn to the flowers in a way she could not explain. “He remembers,” she murmured, touching one gently. Ruby’s brows rose. “Remembers, my lady?” Audrey said,

“Excuse me, sir!” Helena barked, her quill snapping upright like a spear. “This is a private royal session! No courtiers or attendants are permitted during the princess’s study hours. You will remove yourself at once!” Audrey bit her lip to keep from laughing. The scribe’s tone — sharp, authoritative — had silenced ministers and frightened servants. But now it was being hurled at the most powerful man in the Empire. Darius, for his part, only raised an amused brow. “My sincerest apologies, madam,” he said with an incline of his head. “I was under the impression the lady was expecting me.” “She is not!” Helena snapped, standing now, her parchment fluttering to the floor. “And furthermore—” Audrey could not hold it in any longer. A small giggle escaped her lips, breaking the tension like glass. Helena turned on her. “My lady, this is no laughing matter—” Audrey lifted a trembling hand. “M–Mistress Helena… forgive me, but…” she glanced toward Darius, whose eyes glittered wit