Married To The Billionaire Alpha King-Chapter 79 - feast tonight

79

~Elara’s POV

They led me deeper into the palace.

The doors closed behind us with a soft, heavy sound, and for a moment I flinched. Not because I was afraid, but because something in me expected cold. Hardness. Distance. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

But none of that came.

The palace inside was warm. Not just in heat, but in feeling. Lamps burned softly along the walls, throwing gentle light over old stone and carved pillars. The floors were smooth beneath my feet, polished by years of footsteps. Servants moved quietly, bowing as we passed, their faces calm, respectful.

I walked between Alpha Rowan and his Luna.

My parents.

The thought still made my chest tighten.

Alpha Rowan’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder, steady. Protective. Not the man I knew. Not the man who hated me in my present life. This Alpha Rowan glanced down at me often, like he needed to see me there to stay calm.

"You shouldn’t worry us like that again," he said softly.

"I’m sorry," I replied without thinking.

And that was the strange part. The words came easily. This Elara wasn’t confused by him. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t angry.

But I was.

Inside, my present self was screaming.

This man hated you.

This man made your life hell.

Why is he touching you like that?

I swallowed hard as we reached a dining hall.

A long table sat at the center, empty but ready. Plates were set neatly. Cups stood in perfect lines. Warm food sent up soft steam, filling the room with a rich smell that made my stomach twist. They had been waiting. Not eating. Just waiting.

"For us?" I asked, my voice small.

"For you," my mother said, smiling.

That smile.

It struck something deep in my chest, sharp and sudden. I forgot to breathe for a moment. My eyes stayed on her face, tracing it slowly, like I was afraid it would fade if I blinked.

I knew that face.

I froze where I stood.

Her eyes. The shape of her lips. The soft line at the corner of her mouth when she smiled too long, like she was holding back too many feelings at once. I had seen it before. Not like this. Not alive and moving.

In a picture.

My aunt’s hands had been shaking when she showed it to me years ago. I remembered how quiet the room was then. How careful her voice sounded.

"This was your mother," she had said softly. "Before everything."

The memory hit me hard. The air felt thick in my lungs.

My breath caught. "Mom..." I whispered again in the shield I was, but this time the word felt heavy. It sank into my chest instead of lifting me. It hurt in a way that felt old and deep, like a wound that never truly closed.

She turned to me fully then, concern rushing into her eyes like she could hear me. "What is it, my love?" she asked.

I wanted to tell her everything. That I had lost her. That I grew up without knowing her voice or her smile. That this moment felt stolen and cruel and beautiful all at once.

But I said nothing.

She reached out and touched my cheek. "Sit," she said gently. "You must be hungry."

We sat.

They sat on either side of me.

And then they did something that broke me completely.

They fed me.

Alpha Rowan lifted a piece of food and placed it on my plate. "Eat," he said. "You barely had anything today."

My mother poured me water. "Slowly," she said. "Don’t rush."

I watched my hands move. Watched myself eat. Smiling. Talking.

"You played too much," Alpha Rowan said. "Ronan always encourages trouble."

I laughed. "You like him."

Alpha Rowan huffed. "I tolerate him."

My mother smiled. "You love him," she said, teasing.

For a moment, it was simple and easy. Like this, life had always been this way.

And that scared me more than anything.

When we finished eating, I leaned back in my chair.

"I don’t want to sleep alone tonight," I said suddenly.

My present self stiffened. Shouldn’t a princess sleep alone?

Alpha Rowan and my mother exchanged a look.

"Are you afraid?" my mother asked softly.

"No," I said quickly. "I just... want to be with you."

Alpha Rowan nodded. "Alright."

No argument, no anger, and no punishment.

They let me sleep in their room.

I lay between them later, the heavy curtains drawn, candles flickering low. My mother brushed my hair gently, humming under her breath.

I closed my eyes.

My chest felt tight.

Too full, and too warm.

This wasn’t supposed to exist.

Morning came gently.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and golden.

"Elara," my mother’s voice said gently. "Wake up."

I groaned. "Five more minutes."

She laughed softly. "The royal tailor has arrived. The dresses are ready."

That woke me up instantly.

"What dresses?" I asked, sitting up.

"The ones we ordered," she said. "Come. Try them."

Alpha Rowan leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then he kissed mine. "I’ll be at the council meeting," he said. "Behave."

"I always behave," I replied.

He smiled, shaking his head before leaving.

My mother clapped softly. "Come on," she said, her eyes bright as if she had been waiting for this moment.

Maids moved in around me at once, careful and gentle. One spread a soft rug under my feet. Another lifted a dress with both hands like it was something holy. Fabric after fabric appeared, layered across a long table. Dresses in colors I had never worn before. Deep blues like the night sky. Soft creams that looked warm and calm. Silver embroidery that caught the light and seemed to glow.

They dressed me slowly and carefully.

Like, there was no rush. Like this moment mattered.

My sleeves were straightened. The fabric was smoothed down my sides. A belt was tied gently at my waist. The dress felt light, almost like air, but it fit me perfectly, like it had always belonged to me.

"Oh," my mother said quietly, stepping back. "Look at you."

I turned slightly, my heart beating faster, and stared at my reflection in the tall mirror.

I looked... happy.

Not forced, and not pretending. Just happy.

"I like this one," I said, running my fingers over the fabric, afraid it might disappear if I stopped touching it.

"It suits you," my mother replied, moving closer. "You always loved simple elegance."

I blinked at her words.

Always?

Had I?

My head felt strange, like it was filled with echoes. Images I couldn’t fully catch. Feelings that did not belong to the life I remembered, but still felt real.

The maids adjusted my sleeves again. One fixed a small fold near my shoulder. My mother stepped behind me and gently brushed my hair, her hands warm and familiar.

"You’ll wear this to the feast tonight," she said.

"There’s a feast?" I asked, surprised.

She smiled softly at me in the mirror. "There is always a reason to celebrate you."

My throat burned suddenly. The words hit me harder than I expected. I forced a small laugh, but my chest ached.

Because in my real life, no one celebrated me.

Not like this.

As I laughed with her, talking about colors, fabrics, and which shoes would match best, my present self felt something crack deep inside. A soundless break. It was quiet, but painful.

This kind of love was careful and Intentional. It was the kind that stays.

I watched myself in the mirror, smiling, surrounded by warmth, by hands that cared, by a mother who looked at me like her whole world. And in that moment, I knew something terrible was waiting ahead.

Whatever happened next probably destroyed all of this.

And even as the smile stayed on my face, even as I nodded and agreed and laughed softly, I knew one thing.

I wasn’t ready to see it yet.