All Chapters of The Mate Games: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

ASHERMy heart jumps to my throat when his eyes open.They stare straight ahead, wide and unfocused.“Father?” I whisper, voice breaking on the word. I lean closer, almost afraid to blink in case I miss it.Nothing. No flicker of recognition. No sound. His lips stay slack, chest rising and falling in the same slow, dragging breaths.Panic claws up my spine. I lurch to my feet, nearly knocking the chair over.“Get the doctor!” I roar at the guards posted outside. My voice cracks through the quiet like a whip. “Now!”They scramble off at once.I clutch the edge of the bed, eyes locked on his. “Come on,” I rasp. “Say something. Anything.”But the seconds drag by. His gaze stays empty. A tear leaks from the corner of his eye, sliding down into the pillow. I reach out and wipe it away with shaking fingers.It feels wrong. I’m the one who’s supposed to be crying, not him.Minutes later the physician rushes in, two servants on his heels carrying boxes of supplies. They press me aside and beg

ASHER I stand in the physician’s wing with my arms crossed tight over my chest. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. Every muscle in my body feels locked. Tight. Like if I loosen even a little, I’ll snap. Caroline sits beside me on a cushioned bench. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, but her foot bounces up and down, a nervous little rhythm. Every so often she glances at me, eyes bright, mouth twitching with some kind of hopeful, desperate smile. Like she’s already won. I don’t look at her. Instead, I stare at the old tapestries on the wall. Scenes of battles long past. Men raising swords, dying with honor, dying for something. I wonder if they felt like this. Hollow. Sick. Waiting for news that could tear their world apart. The door opens. My head jerks up. The doctor steps out. An older man, thin hair tied back, face lined deep from years of worry and secrets. He holds a small parchment in his hand, but he doesn’t even look at it. His eyes go straight to me,

ASHERI stand in the damp, dark dungeon, arms folded across my chest, watching the sorry mess unfold before me. The air stinks of sweat, blood, and piss, a scent I’ve grown far too used to. Torches flicker on the walls, throwing dancing shadows across the stone. The man strapped to the chair before me wheezes for breath, his head lolling back, water dripping down his face from the soaked towel Mark just lifted.“The King is here, and you better start singing like a canary before he takes over,” Mark drawls, tipping his chin toward me as he pours more water onto the towel.The man thrashes, feet scraping the floor, throat choking on the water that still clogs it. He gasps, spits, eyes wild. I let out a bored sigh. I’ve seen this exact scene too many times to count. Men tied down, beaten, begging, dying. And still, they all think they can keep their secrets from me.If he knows who I am—and surely he does—then he knows my reputation. That alone should make him crack. But he clenches his

Many decades ago… I thought after the maze of shadows, after hearing voices that didn’t exist and seeing things that couldn’t possibly be real, they would give us time. A day. An hour. Even just a moment to remember how to breathe without tasting fear. They didn’t. This afternoon, a servant appeared at my door again. Same black clothes that swallowed all light, same cold, glassy eyes that didn’t blink enough to seem human. He held out another note. No wax seal this time. Just a smear of something dark along the edge. My stomach turned, but I told myself it was ink. Only ink. “Report to the tribunal hall at once. Do not delay,” he said, voice flat as stone. I went. Of course I did. What else is there to do? I’ve learned quickly enough that refusing only paints a bigger target on your back. And here, targets don’t last long. The hall was colder than anywhere else in the palace. My breath fogged the air as I stepped inside. The walls stretched up and up, disappearing into gloom. Tat

ASHERMark and I stand over the table where the body lies, arms crossed tight. The smell of blood and old sweat is heavy in the room, mixing with the faint bite of herbs. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. The doctor finishes stitching up the long cut he made down the man’s chest, then steps back with a sigh.“Well?” I snap. My voice comes out rougher than I mean, but I’m too on edge to care.The doctor pulls off his gloves, smearing blood across his apron. “He was poisoned, Your Majesty.”“Poisoned,” I echo. My temples throb. I stare at the dead man’s slack face. Eyes still open, mouth twisted in that last moment of surprise. He was supposed to give me answers. Instead, he died with them still locked behind his teeth. Now I know why.“Do you have any idea who did it?” I ask, turning to Mark.He shakes his head. “No, my King. It could have been anyone with access to the dungeons. A guard, a servant—”“A traitor.” The word tastes foul. I look at Mark sharply. “It means there