The Cursed Alpha Prince's Replacement Bride-Chapter 23: Gifts from The Queen

{Third Person}

Werewolf Clan.

Morning settled quietly over the Alpha Prince’s residence.

In a shaded corner of the courtyard, the pet doctor crouched beside the cat, his hands steady as he examined its injured leg. The small creature squirmed at first, letting out a few uneasy sounds, but soon stilled under his careful grip.

"It’s not serious," the doctor said after a moment, glancing up at Jasper. "It’s just a dislocation. It must have been left untreated for a while."

Jasper nodded.

Without delay, the doctor adjusted his hold and, with practised precision, reset the bone. A soft, sharp sound followed.

The cat let out a startled cry, but just as quickly, it stilled again.

Moments later, it was set back on the ground. It took a cautious step, then another without limping.

The cat let out a small, almost pleased meow.

"It will be fine now," the doctor said, standing up. "Just make sure it eats well for a few days."

Jasper inclined his head. "Understood."

—

Not long after, Jasper carried the cat into Alexander’s study.

Alexander was seated behind his desk, going through documents, his attention fixed and unwavering.

The moment the cat saw him, it started meowing, soft at first, then a little louder.

Alexander didn’t look up. He continued reading, turning a page as if he suddenly couldn’t hear anything.

Jasper stepped forward. "The pet doctor has left, Your Highness," he reported. "It was only a dislocation. The bone has been reset, and the limping has stopped."

Alexander finally paused. Not because of the cat, but because of Jasper. He lifted his gaze briefly.

"Feed it for a few days so it gains some weight," he said. "Then send it to the political bride."

Jasper nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."

The cat meowed again, but Alexander ignored it completely.

Jasper turned and left, carrying it out with him.

***

Three days later~

The sitting area of Amara’s residence was filled with boxes.

Amara stood in the middle of it all, her expression growing darker with each passing moment. Servants moved carefully around her, opening one box after another.

"This one contains cosmetics," Mrs. Woods explained gently, gesturing toward a large case filled with neatly arranged makeup products.

Another was opened.

"Local skincare," she added.

Amara said nothing. Her gaze shifted to the next. A smaller box was opened, revealing neatly packed scented sachets.

Another contained a jar of healing balm.

Another box was opened. And another. Each one... the same sort of thing. Decorative, frivolous, and useless.

Amara’s frown deepened.

"These are... gifts from Her Majesty," Mrs. Woods said carefully.

Amara let out a quiet breath. Then, almost to herself, she murmured, "So this is what she thinks I should be doing... putting on makeup all day and worrying about my face."

Her tone was flat, but the irritation beneath it was clear. Then she lifted her head. "What does the Queen mean by this?"

The room fell quiet. The servants exchanged subtle glances but said nothing.

Amara didn’t care, so she turned to Mrs. Woods. "Can gifts be returned?"

The question landed sharply, forcing Mrs. Woods to freeze for a second. As soon as she understood Amara’s intentions, her expression changed immediately.

"Miss... please, you must not," she said quickly, her tone urgent.

Amara’s brows furrowed.

"That would be unwise," Mrs. Woods continued, stepping closer. "Very unwise."

Amara didn’t look convinced, so Mrs. Woods lowered her voice slightly. "The Queen is the head of the inner palace. Offending her... will not end well."

Amara’s irritation only grew. "She has already made her intentions clear," she said. "Why should I accept this?"

Mrs. Woods shook her head. "You must endure it. At least for now. You have not yet secured His Highness’s favour. If Her Majesty decides to make things difficult for you..."

She hesitated for a second, then finished, "He may not intervene."

That did it. Amara’s patience snapped. "Who needs his help!" she snapped.

The aftermath reaction was immediate. Every servant in the room dropped to their knees, and silence fell heavily.

Amara froze as the weight of what she had just said hit her almost instantly. Her fingers tightened slightly as she closed her eyes for a brief second.

’What am I doing?’

Mrs. Woods quickly bowed her head lower. "Please calm your anger, Miss," she said carefully. "Words like that... are dangerous."

Amara opened her eyes once more. The sight of everyone kneeling disturbed her, so she exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay steady.

"I didn’t mean..." she started, then stopped. ’No. This isn’t the point,’ she thought to herself.

Then, she pressed her lips together. She refused to become like the Werewolves—power-drunk and reckless.

But the anger was still there. Burning.

With a sharp turn, she walked away, leaving the boxes behind and the tension still hanging in the air.

---

Later that day, Amara was in her bedroom, standing by the wardrobe as she sorted through her clothes herself.

Piece by piece, she folded and arranged them. Then a soft knock came at the door.

Before she could respond, it opened slightly, and her personal maidservant from back home, Sonia, stepped in and bowed respectfully.

"My lady," she said gently, "Mrs. Woods is asking for your attention."

Amara paused, glancing over her shoulder. "For what?"

Sonia lifted her head slightly. "The Queen has sent an Imperial Physician to check on your health."

Amara’s brows drew together as a scoff escaped her lips. ’She really is determined to play this role today.’

Then, she let out a quiet breath before setting the clothes aside. A few minutes later, she stepped into the sitting room.

Mrs. Woods was already there, standing beside a man in refined robes that clearly marked his status. The air around him carried a certain authority—one that he seemed very aware of.

As soon as Amara entered, Mrs. Woods stepped forward.

"Miss," she said, "this is the Imperial Physician. He is one of the highest-ranking doctors in the palace and personally attends to Her Majesty."

The physician smiled faintly, a hint of pride evident in his expression, and gave a small nod in acknowledgement.

Amara saw the pride—that quiet arrogance radiating from him immediately. For a brief moment, she didn’t feel inclined to respond. But Mrs. Woods gave her a subtle look. She caught it and forced herself to nod in return.

"Doctor."

Only then did she walk over and take a seat on the sofa. "What brings you here?" she asked, her tone neutral.

The Imperial Physician clasped his hands behind his back, his chin lifting slightly.

"Her Majesty, in her benevolence, has sent me to personally examine your health and ensure that there are no underlying issues."