Page 95 of The Possessive Alpha’s Reborn Luna

I stood in the Queen's place, scanning the crowd below. Heads bowed. Unease rippled through them. A few stole glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking.

"While I was away, certain rats got bold." Cedric's voice echoed through the hall—cold, hard, absolute. "Bold enough to conspire with witches. Bold enough to plot treason."

He read off a list of names. Each one made the crowd gasp. Victoria's family was on it. My adoptive parents.

The whole room held its breath, terrified they'd be next.

"Effective immediately, these families are stripped of all titles and lands. Anyone who participated in the conspiracy will be executed. The rest—exiled from Hilphia. Forever."

"Your Majesty!" The nobles dropped to their knees, sobbing. "I'm sorry! Please, have mercy! We were fooled—the witches deceived us!"

"Fooled?" Cedric's laugh was ice. His Alpha pressure slammed down on them. "You conspired with witches to kill the Queen. You wanted to sacrifice her for power. And now you claim you were just foolish?"

He rose. Every word dripped with killing intent. "Get them out. Now. I don't want to hear another word."

Their faces went ashen. Guards clamped hands over their mouths and dragged them away.

"One more thing." Cedric's tone softened. He looked at Melvina, kneeling nearby. "The Black Witches have been falsely accused by the White Witches for years. They've carried blame they never deserved. From today, Hilphia officially welcomes them. We'll set aside land in the North for them to settle."

Melvina and her people knelt, eyes glistening. "Thank you for your mercy, Your Majesty."

"Stand." Warmth crept into his voice. "You helped me rescue the Queen. You've earned this."

After the meeting, I went to him. He immediately took my hand, fingers interlacing. The ruthless king from moments ago now had eyes only for me.

"You handled that well," I said, relief washing through me.

"Yeah." He kissed my forehead. "Finally cleared out that mess. Now..."

His gaze dropped to my still-flat belly, eyes full of anticipation. "I'm going to take care of you both."

Fifth month. My appetite went haywire.

"I want something sour." I lay in bed, exhausted. The morning sickness was killing me.

"Right away." He jumped up like he was heading into battle.

Thirty minutes later, he came back with pickled fruit, setting it before me, watching anxiously. "Alice, try it."

I took a bite and immediately grimaced. The nausea hit hard. "No. Too sour."

"I'll have them remake it." He reached for the plate.

"No more sour." I pushed it away. "I want something sweet."

Cedric blinked, then nodded. "I'll get it."

Soon, he returned with pastries, sweat on his forehead, tension in his eyes.

I picked one up, sniffed it, and shook my head. Tears came. That inexplicable frustration choked my voice. "Too sweet. I want sour again."

I looked at him through my tears. "Am I being weird? Am I too much trouble?"

He pulled me into his arms immediately, voice gentle, patient. "How could you be trouble? I'll have the kitchen make more, okay? Don't cry."

"Forget it." I suddenly didn't want anything. I pushed him away and flopped onto the bed. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Then sleep." He tucked the blanket around me gently. "I'll stay with you."