Alpha King's Caged Mate

EVELYN

I would never forget that day—the day of my trial, the day my world collapsed.

The man I had once loved sat high upon the throne, his expression carved from stone. A guard snarled behind me before shoving my shoulder. My knees slammed against the marble floor. Pain shot through me like lightning.

“Evelyn Caddel,” he said, his voice like thunder, his dark eyes filled with venom.

“As the Alpha King of Hescor, I declare you and your family guilty of treason. Your noble titles are revoked, your lands forfeit, and your honor erased. You will suffer the harshest punishments the laws of this kingdom allow.”

Then he descended the steps of the throne.

He stopped before me, his hand reaching out. Those once-gentle fingers now felt as cold as iron. He tilted my chin up until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

He leaned in close. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I told you, Evelyn. You’d regret choosing the wrong man.”

***

The sun had already slipped beyond the horizon by the time I stirred. Morning had long since passed, and with it, the wake-up bell for maids. A jolt of panic shot through me as I realized it. I scrambled from his bed quickly and rushed into the washroom.

The dress I had worn last night was a ruin of silk and lace, but I clutched what remained and threw on the usable pieces. Taking a quick glance at the man sprawled comfortably on the bed, I gritted my teeth and shut the door before hurrying into the hallway.

My steps faltered from the soreness in my legs, and the skin on my shoulders prickled from his bite, but I didn’t dare slow down.

I didn’t need to imagine how furious the head maid, Mrs. Porter, would be if I was late for roll call. And of course, she wouldn’t care that the Alpha King was the reason. Mrs. Porter never listened to excuses. She had always told us that no one cared about our little grievances in this palace.

I rushed through the quiet corridors, slipping into the changing room just as the other maids had finished dressing. Stripping off the ruined garment, I quickly throw on a clean uniform.

As I toss the shredded fabric into a hamper, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

Red marks spread across my neck and shoulders. The skin burned as I lifted a finger to touch it.

The Alpha King had been savage last night. He always was when he returned from a long journey. There would be no foreplay, no flirtation. He would toss me onto the bed like a beast and take me like one.

But last night, he’d been crueler than usual. I remembered how hard he bit into my shoulder when I refused to let out a shameful sound as he commanded. He was angry—I could tell—but I didn’t know why. Maybe something had vexed him during his travels. Or maybe he simply enjoyed tormenting me further, as he’d done ever since he seized the crown and killed Jack—his half-brother, the crown prince, and my husband.

Two years ago, King Theodore died during a hunting expedition. After weeks of mourning and a kingdom in limbo, my father – Lord Steven Caddel, Theodore’s most trusted Beta – secured my marriage to the Jack. Our wedding was held on my eighteen birthday. It was supposed to be beautiful and blessed, except Cole then stormed in and shattered everything.

The War of Princes began that day.

It was a merciless, bloody affair. Brother against brother. Kingdom against itself.

In the end, Jack fell, killed and burned by Cole’s loyalists. My family – along with every noble who had pledged fealty to Jack – was dragged to court and subjected to a brutal trial.

It had been an entire year since that trial – a year since he stripped me of my nobility and reduced me to a maid. A year since I had been separated from my parents and little sister and confined to this suffocating palace.

My job was like the other maids’, except for the extra “night service.”

He had made it painfully clear that it was my duty to satisfy him whenever he wanted—and to endure whatever he wished to vent upon me. And if I dared to fight back, he’d threaten me with my family, who had been exiled to a barren island for lifelong labor.

“You do understand I can order them all to death with a flick of my finger,” he had warned me the first time I snarled at him in defiance—when he ordered me to strip.

So instead of clawing at him or baring my teeth, I had bent. I had obeyed. I had knelt on that vast bed as he tore my dress, yanked my hair, and forced me to forget I had once been anything more than his toy.

That was my punishment. My penance.

The clock in the hall struck, snapping me back to reality.

I didn’t have time to cover the marks as I raced through the halls as fast as I could. But when I reached the assembly room, Mrs. Porter was already there. Her ever-slightly-lifted chin turned toward me as I skidded into place, breathless, and ducked my head.

“You’re two minutes late,” Mrs. Porter said, tapping her pocket watch with a disapproving glare.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Porter,” I murmured.

I braced for more, but she merely inclined her head for me to join the line.

She cleared her throat. “You may have heard that the Alpha King has returned from his grueling inspection journey, during which he quelled riots and fought valiantly for this kingdom. His dedication to Hescor knows no limits. We, too, must work three times as hard to reflect that devotion.”

I stifled a yawn as her voice droned on. Mrs. Porter never spared an opportunity to flatter Cole. Most people didn’t, not after he seized the throne. Even those who had once been close to Jack now sang praises for the new king. They either wanted favor or feared meeting a fate like mine.

My exhaustion blurred her words. It wasn’t until Elsa nudged me that I realized Mrs. Porter had stopped speaking. She was staring directly at me.

“I trust I don’t need to remind you all,” she said, voice sharpening, “that regardless of the families you were born into or the lives you once led, you now belong to His Majesty. Your freedom is his. Your attention must be entirely devoted to his comfort and well-being. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Mrs. Porter,” the maids echoed.

“Evelyn Caddel,” she snapped, eyes locking on me. “You will clean my parlor after the morning call. And you are not permitted to eat breakfast. This is your punishment for tardiness.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. My fists clenched at my sides. I had to dig my nails into my palm to swallow the retort burning on my tongue. Mrs. Porter despised me. Everyone here did. They believed it was me who caused the War of Princes and plunged the kingdom into darkness – a shameless seductress who had tangled sheets with both heirs.

Muffled snickers rippled among the maids. Mrs. Porter quickly silenced them and spoke again.

“Now, with the Selection approaching,” she resumed, voice once again formal and clipped, “we must serve with unmatched enthusiasm. The ladies will begin arriving soon. Each will choose her personal maid from among you…”

A hum of excitement spread through the group. I caught Elsa’s eyes light up with hope like many of the others.

“Selection? What selection?” I whispered, nudging her lightly.

“The Luna Selection,” Elsa whispered back, glancing at Mrs. Porter to ensure she wasn’t watching us. “It seems His Majesty is finally choosing a wife.”

EVELYN

I couldn’t stop thinking about the announcement of the Luna Selection as I scrubbed the floor of Mrs. Porter’s parlor.

After the morning roll call, Elsa had whispered more details to me. She was the only maid who still showed me a shred of kindness, though I doubted it would last. She was new here, and in a few weeks—or days—she’d likely come to loathe me like the rest.

“Jessica served at the welcoming banquet yesterday,” Elsa had said. “She told me the Dowager Queen made the announcement right in the middle of it—said she’d already sent invitations to all the eligible ladies. And apparently, one of them arrived at the palace for the Selection just last night.”

Cole was turning twenty this year, and at that age, most kings in history had already fathered their first heir. But Cole’s harem remained empty. He had no consorts, and the title of Luna Queen still went unclaimed. Whispers had it that the lords and ministers had been submitting petitions constantly, urging him to take a queen.

Perhaps that was why the Dowager Queen could no longer sit idly by. The Luna Selection, a time-honored tradition in the Hescor Empire, was typically held when a king ascended the throne without a Luna.

“What did the King say about it?” I had asked Elsa.

She had shrugged. “Nothing. I guess he just accept it. Jessica said he sat there and downed a glass of wine after the Dowager Queen finished her speech.”

A tightness had clamped down on my chest like a vice. I hadn’t even known what I had expected. I had felt stupid for asking.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Elsa had said, looking hopeful. “The ladies will be choosing maids, and if we’re picked, no more peeling potatoes or scrubbing floors! That’s a win for us.”

I could hardly share Elsa’s optimism. It wasn’t just that I doubted any high lady would choose me to be her personal maid—it was that the Luna Selection, as far as I knew, had never been as blissful or promising as it sounded. It was often a brutal contest of power among the noble Houses.

Though it was called the Luna Selection, there weren’t many choices of females. Tradition and the kingdom’s standards dictated that a proper Luna must come from one of the five Great Houses: Caddel, Crawford, Fox, Hart, and Madden.

Well, now that my family had been demolished, there were only four.

The eligible ladies would move into the palace and stay there until the final Luna was chosen. During their stay, each of them would be assigned personal maids and taught how to please the King in every conceivable way.

And may ladies and their personal maids, as the history had recorded, had died from mysterious reasons during the Selection, either poisoned or murdered by nameless killers, or executed by order of the Alpha King for some supposed offense.

My body shivered at the memory of reading those historical accounts.

The door flung open, and Mrs. Porter walked in. She scanned the room before her eyes landed on me.

“That’s enough,” she said. “Go get some food before you faint. Then trim the roses in the garden. I want that thicket neat and clean before lunch. Understand?”

Mrs. Porter never failed to assign me the hardest jobs.

“Yes, Mrs. Porter.”

As I rose to my feet and complied with a nod, she added.

“Don’t go thinking you’ll ever be a high lady again—or gain the King’s favor by your nasty little service. Always remember who you are now, Evelyn.”

I wanted to tell her that I was already painfully aware. That was why I endured their mockery and bore their humiliation. But I said nothing. I left the room with the obedience beaten into me by a year’s worth of “education” in palace service.

My stomach was groaning as I made my way down the hallway to the kitchen. I hadn’t eaten since before the Alpha King summoned me to his chamber last night.

As I hurried past the grand hall, faint voices slipped through its ajar doors.

I recognized them immediately—the Circle of Gossip. The maids who spent more time whispering than working.

“Evelyn served in the King’s bed again last night,” Jesscia’s voice echoed.

“What’s there to envy, Jess?” Melanie sneered. “The Alpha King is just using her. Once he’s bored, she’ll be tossed aside like the trash she is.”

“What if she gets pregnant?” Jesscia asked. “What if she carries his child?”

“Pregnant?” Daniella laughed. “As if His Majesty would let a filthy slut like her carry his heir. Don’t forget—she’s a criminal.”

My nails dug into my palm so hard I felt the sting of broken skin. I should walk away. I’d heard it all before. Ever since my family fell, gossip and slander had become routine. I had learned to ignore it.

But then Elsa’s voice stopped me cold.

“What do you mean by criminal? What did she do?”

“Little Elsa, so naïve,” Melanie said. “Her name is Evelyn Caddel. Ring any bells? She’s the daughter of the Great Traitor. Her brother tried to kill the Alpha King. And get this—she was originally betrothed to the third prince—our Alpha King now—but she betrayed him and married his older brother.”

“Some say the War of Princes started because of her. But I don’t get it—she’s so dull and lifeless. How could anyone find her interesting in bed?” Jessica added.

“Maybe she saves her energy for chamber,” Daniella said in a hushed, mocking tone. “Heard she was passed around by the jailors in the Cell. Probably learned a few tricks from those filthy dogs.”

“Oh, Your Grace… oh, oh, ohhh…” she moaned exaggeratedly, triggering a chorus of laughter. “Her father is the Great Traitor, so she’s the Great Slut. Like father, like daughter.”

I told myself to leave. I told myself that I’d regret it if I didn’t.

But this time, my feet wouldn’t obey. And instead of fleeing like a cornered rat, I shoved the door open.

The laughter died instantly. The four turned and stared, stunned.

Daniella gulped audibly under my gaze, though she still lifted her chin in defiance.

“What—?” she began, but I lunged forward and slapped her across the face before she could finish.

Her cheek reddened instantly. She clutched it, wide-eyed.

“How dare you?” she snapped.

“You don’t understand what it means to gossip about the Alpha King while shirking your duties?” I said coldly. “Do you have any idea how many spies Lady Madden has planted in the palace, listening for even the faintest whisper against His Majesty? Do you know how desperately they’re looking for a chance to impress the King?”

I lied. I knew nothing about spies, and it seemed unlikely anyone would waste such resources on trivial maidservant gossip. But the words hung heavy in the air, enough to intimidate them.

Daniella’s lips quivered. She hesitantly glanced toward Melanie and Jessica, who stood frozen, their faces pale. Elsa looked down, her eyes avoiding mine. Her lips pressed into a frown as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as if to hide her shame.

“It’s only a joke, Evelyn.” Melanie said with a nervous laugh, reaching out to touch my arm.

I stepped back and stared at her coldly. “Then I don’t share your sense of humor. Perhaps next time, mind your tongue—unless you’re keen on losing it.”

I turned on my heels and strode toward the door. Just before I left, I my glance briefly went to Elsa. She still didn’t look at me. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

A pang of hurt shot through me.

I should have known better. Mockery was familiar. Hope, however, was foolish.

COLE

“Your Majesty.”

A firm series of knock shattered the perfect sleep I’d managed to find for the first time in weeks. I rolled onto my side, reaching for the other half of the bed. I expected the brush of soft fingers that would tug the coverlet over my ears and shield me from reality’s persistence.

But my hand met only cold linen.

She was gone.

“Your Majesty, I have something to report,” came Flynn’s voice again—steady, unyielding, always so damned punctual.

A groan rumbled from my chest as I sat up, dragging a hand over my face. My ever-dutiful Beta—and closet friend—clearly lacked the basic skill of reading a room. Or in this case, a morning after.

I threw on a shirt and stalked toward the door. When I yanked it open, Flynn stood tall and statuesque in the corridor, not a hair out of place.

“Do you not require sleep, Flynn Hart?” I drawled, stifling a yawn. “Or should I remind you that we returned from a month-long trek through hell only yesterday—and were then subjected to an excruciating banquet as the final insult?”

Flynn dipped his head with infuriating neutrality. “I slept well last night, Your Majesty.”

With a grunt, I turned toward the washroom, flicked on the faucet, and splashed my face. Cold water licked across my fingers, down my neck. In the mirror, my gaze caught on the scratches across my collarbone —angry red trails carved by Evelyn Caddel’s nails when I’d bitten her shoulder and refused to let go, even when she cried out.

“I’ve received a new finding regarding the attack and Lord Crawford’s disappearance,” Flynn said behind me.

I turned with a frown as Flynn stepped forward and offered a small object in his palm.

A crest—worn, but unmistakable. A griffin with wings unfurled, talons clutching a blooming rose.

It was Jack’s old sigil.

“You think his remnants were behind the ambush?”

Flynn inclined his head. “Possibly. But all the attackers are dead. We’ve no solid proof yet.”

I closed my fingers around the crest, letting the metal bite into my skin. “Keep the investigation active. Tell Addison to send spies into the noble Houses. Discreetly. I want to know if any of them are involved.”

Flynn’s brow furrowed slightly; he seemed taken aback by my command, but he said nothing. “Yes, Alpha.” He stamped a fist over his chest.

The sigil burned against my palm.

Jack had been dead a year, but his legacy still festered like rot beneath the skin of this kingdom. Riots, whispers, empty gestures of rebellion—but this… this was no act of grief. This was methodical. Surgical. A coordinated strike: the ambush on Crawford land, the ransacking of the House, the abduction of Lord Frank.

Whoever orchestrated it was a master.

I was buttoning my shirt when Mr. Barrett, the head servant, appeared in the doorway, breathless.

“Your Majesty, the Dowager Queen requests your presence for breakfast.”

I exchanged a look with Flynn as I reached for the doublet slung across the foot of my bed. “What royal delicacy has she arranged for me this time?”

“Her Grace said it’s time for a warm family dining with her dear son in private.”

I quivered a brow, and the head servant added delicately. “The Dowager Queen has also invited Lady Fox.”

Oh, of course she had.

Last night, during the welcoming banquet, my stepmother – my father’s third wife – Anastasia, now the Dowager Queen – had blindsided me with her grand announcement of the Luna Selection, in front of ministers, courtiers – everyone.

She’d framed it so perfectly that to deny her would’ve made me look like the most irresponsible king in Hescor’s history. But clearly, the wellbeing of the country was secondary to her need to secure her status in the palace.

Born a Fox by blood, Anastasia had clawed her way into royalty by marrying my father after the woman who gave birth to me vanished like smoke. Anastasia had borne no child for the King, so she staked her future on Jack and me.

To her, we were never sons. We were pawns.

It almost made me laugh that how she phrased it: “warm family dining”. In truth, I had never been allowed to dine with my so-called family as a prince unless my presences served the state or spectacle. My father hated the sight of me, and Anastasia had always ignored my existence.

I could safely say that the fact I won the war against Jack had stunned her. Before I seized the throne, she had considered me unworthy of even her schemes. She had pinned all her hopes on Jack. So had the court. So had the Kingdom.

***

The dining chamber gleamed with morning gold, nestled in the heart of Anastasia’s wing. She sat at the head of the long table, poised beside a young woman whose laughter rang with practiced sweetness.

“What’s so amusing?” I asked as I stepped into the room.

The girl stood at once, curtsying gracefully.

Anastasia greeted me with the smile of a doting matron, arms half-extended. I bent perfunctorily, brushing a kiss to the air beside her cheek.

“My son,” she crooned. “Allow me to introduce Lady Skyla Fox.”

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Skyla said, her voice as polished as her posture.

I gave her a brief nod and claimed the only empty chair—one that, unsurprisingly, sat far too close to hers. Anastasia’s intentions were written in the air like perfume.

“We are just recalling the old days. Do you remember? My brother brought Skyla to visit once when you were young,” Anastasia said as servants began placing dishes. “You said she was so pretty, you wanted to marry her when you grew up.”

“Is that so?” I raised a brow at Skyla. She flushed and lowered her gaze.

Anastasia waved a hand, laughing lightly. “Oh, darling, you must have forgotten. Time flies, and you’ve forgot so much about your childhood since you grew up. You even said you want to kiss her in front of everyone.”

My fingers tapped at the base of the glass as I watched her cat-like smile.

My stepmother was masterful at invention, especially when it came to memories that served her intention. She had once proposed erecting a golden statue of herself in the rose garden—a garden originally built for the woman my father despised even remembering in his final days. She had never stepped foot there, save for the day the sculptors arrived. Yet somehow, she’d convinced the court that the garden had always been her gift.

But I would have to play along with her game. I would have to feign falling into her scheme before I struck back—otherwise, I’d be stepping right into the trap she’d laid.

That’s how the court of Hescor worked.

“You are right,” I said with a smile, lifting my glass. “I tend to forget things. A typical problem for a busy man. Allow me to apologize to Lady Skyla for that.”

“That’s why you’ll need a proper queen.” Anastasia said brightly. “One who can ease your burdens. Help you rule the kingdom.” She glanced at her niece fondly before turning back to me.

“And you and Skyla will have time to get reacquainted. Why don’t you show her the gardens after breakfast, before plunging yourself into the day’s arduous work?” she added sweetly.

“The roses are in bloom, and the weather is simply lovely. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time together.”

EVELYN

After stuffing some bread into my mouth and washing it down with a large cup of strong tea, I headed out toward the Royal Garden.

The air was thick with the scent of herbs and fading flowers. The late autumn breeze had turned sharp and chilly. I pulled my collar tight before making my way to the rose bushes.

They said the roses had once been Queen Sylvia’s favorite—King Theodore’s second queen. But after she ran away following Cole’s birth, the garden had become neglected.

I climbed onto a rock to reach a particularly stubborn branch, and as I leaned forward, a thorn jabbed into my forearm. I hissed and stumbled—

A firm hand caught me, fingers curling around my waist.

“Evelyn.”

My eyes met the handsome smile of Aiden, the King’s Guard. The golden glint of his armored uniform shimmered in the sunlight as bright as his face. He gave me a gentle push, and I regain balanced on the ground.

My voice caught in my throat for a moment, but I quickly stepped back and lowered my gaze. “Sir Moran.” I dipped into a curtsy.

Aiden’s smile faded. He sighed and leaned in slightly. “Don’t speak to me like that, Eve. Please.”

My heart clenched at the sound of him calling me “Eve”. The nickname hit me like an old song. Only he had called me that, back when I was still “Lady Caddel,” a foolish girl pampered in silks and privilege, blind to the shadows looming over my future.

But I couldn’t let him speak to me like that. Not here.

“It’s only proper for a maid to greet the King’s Guard with respect,” I said, carefully trying to slip from his grasp. “You should let me go, Sir Moran.”

His grip tightened.

“Are you still mad at me? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Aiden asked, his voice raw. “I’ve been trying to find a moment to talk to you for so long.”

He stepped closer, and the intimacy of the distance made it hard to breathe.

“I know you’re angry, Evelyn,” he went on, running a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with remorse and anguish. “You have every right to be. Shout at me. Blame me. Just—don’t shut me out. I need you to know how I’m sorry. I wish I’d never left. I wish I could’ve been there when the Caddels were.” His voice cracked. “When they came for you.”

Aiden wasn’t born a Caddel, not by blood. But he was my family in every way that mattered. My father had brought him back from a mission when we were children. From that day on, he’d been my closest friend.

When the War of Princes broke out, he was in the Hawk Wing—the elite warrior academy of Hescor, built on land far from the mainland, surrounded by towering walls. All contact with the outside world was severed.

He hadn’t known anything.

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That I wasn’t truly angry. But a lump formed in my throat, and no words came out.

Maybe I had blamed him, in the desperate, naive way only a shattered girl could—imagining he might burst through the palace doors like a storybook knight, sword drawn, to save me from chains... from Cole.

But I knew better now. I was grateful Aiden hadn’t been stained by my family’s disgrace. I was glad he had achieved his childhood dream—becoming the shining protector of the highest noble house in the kingdom.

Yes, I had been avoiding him since arriving here. What else could I do? I didn’t know how to face him—and more than anything, I would rather die than see him dragged down with me.

“You’re bleeding,” Aiden said, frowning as he gently caught my wrist.

Only then did I realize the thorn had cut deeper than I’d thought. Blood beaded from the wound.

Aiden cradled my arm with care. I watched as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the cut, tying a neat butterfly knot with practiced fingers.

A memory tugged at me. “The pain will fly away with the butterfly, leaving no scar to your wound.” He’d said that the first time he bandaged me, after I fell from a tree and scraped my knee.

“Thank you…” I murmured.

He looked at me with those soft, familiar eyes, brushing a hand across my cheek. “I’d do anything for you, Eve. Trust me—I’ll find a way to bring you out of this – ”

Before he could finished, a cold voice sliced through the garden behind us.

“What are you doing?”

I turned sharply.

Cole stood at the garden’s edge, eyes dark and locked on mine. Beside him stood a beautiful woman in a sheer, delicately embroidered gown. Her posture was regal—clearly a noble.

“Cole?” she asked, her tone tentative. Her gaze flicked to me, then back to the him as she slipped her arm through his.

There was a gentle intimacy in the way she leaned into him—something I had never seen him permit before.

Perhaps he had already chosen his Luna.

I stepped away from Aiden and curtsied low. “Your Majesty.”

Cole stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine. “Did you not hear my question?”

I kept my head low. “Mrs. Porter instructed me to trim the roses. I cut myself by accident. Sir Moran was helping me.”

His gaze shifted to Aiden, then down to my bandaged arm. I couldn’t tell if he believed me, or if he even cared.

He grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward. The force sent a jolt through me. With a calculated turn, he smiled at Aiden, his expression more menace than mirth.

“Sir Moran,” he drawled. “I see you’ve grown fond of my maid. But didn’t you mention an urgent report you needed to work on with Beta Flynn and me this morning? What, exactly, are you still doing here, loitering in this cold, distracting garden? Why don’t you head to my study and wait? I’ll join you there shortly.”

Aiden stiffened. His jaw tightened. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but I met his eyes and gave a subtle shake of my head. His lips thinned, and after a moment’s hesitation, he bowed stiffly and turned to leave.

As soon as Aiden disappeared from view, Cole stepped closer. He seized my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look up into his eyes. The smile vanished. What remained was cold fury.

“I don’t recall dismissing you this morning.”

“You never allowed me to stay, Your Majesty.” I replied before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrowed. I could see the flicker of memory in them—perhaps of that morning when he’d told me he hated waking up to the sight of me. But if he remembered, it didn’t soften him. If anything, his grip on my jaw tightened.

“Is that your grievance?” His voice dropped. “You’ve grown mouthy in my absence. And bold enough to arrange private rendezvous in the royal gardens?”

My heart pounded against my ribs. I stared at him, unsure whether to defend myself or remain silent. I wondered if he’d punish me here, like he had behind closed doors. If he’d strip me naked and bend me over this his thighs right in front of the noblewoman trailing at his side. I wondered if she’d be shocked.

“Cole, is she - ?” the woman behind him called out again. There was a tremor in her voice now, a slight edge of suspicion. Her eyes widened, glancing between us.

“She’s no one.” Cole said flatly.

His grip dropped from my chin. “Just a maid.”

In one swift motion, he snatched the handkerchief from my wrist, tearing it from my body with a flick of his clawed fingers.

“You don’t leave my chamber again without permission,” he warned.

Then he turned and strode off the path. The woman followed closely after him. , but just as they reached the end of the garden, she suddenly pivoted and shot me a scathing look. Her sweet face twisted into something sharp and resentful as her eyes landed on me.

EVELYN

By the time I finished trimming the branches, lunchtime had long passed and there was nothing left to eat in the kitchen. Or at least, that’s what the timid-looking cook told me. She was evasive and hesitant when she spoke, her eyes constantly flitting toward the doorway. I saw Daniella standing there, glaring at me with menace. She must have threatened the cook into denying me food. Daniella was as skilled at bullying as she was at gossiping.

“I’ll make you pay for slapping me, and lying about the spy.” Daniella shoved me in the shoulder as I walked past her.

I met her glare with a flat stare. “Only a fool can be fooled by that,” I replied. “And if threats like yours could kill me, I’d have died a long time ago.”

Her glare burned like fire. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that made it easier to drop the meek mask I’d worn so long. I ignored her and brushed past without another word.

My stomach ached with hollowness as I trudged back to my room. I thought about stopping by the washroom to rinse off, but fatigue won out. And I no longer cared about how I looked.

There had been a time I obsessed over fine gowns and flawless appearances, and bask in compliments like every pampered highborn lady. That life had crumbled only two years ago, yet it felt like an eternity. Now, I could hardly imagine myself in a gown like the one that noblewoman wore earlier.

I locked the door behind me and stepped into the dim quiet of my cramped room. Crossing to the bedside drawer, I pried loose the base plate. There was a hidden compartment where I kept the things that mattered most – the things that I couldn’t risk anyone finding.

A paring knife, stolen from the kitchen.

A blood-stained family sigil of House Caddel, torn from my brother’s lifeless chest, the only thing I kept of my past.

And a bundle of dried, bitter herbal leaves wrapped in crinkled kraft paper.

The day Flynn Hart pulled me from the exiles and told me what the Alpha King intended use me, I asked for the herbs.

The Hart family managed the medicinal system in Hescor. They knew every potion, poison, and remedy—and, certainly, the noblewomen’s secret to avoiding unwanted pregnancies. Flynn hadn’t spoken a word when I made my request, but a week later, as we crossed paths in the King’s Quarters, he shoved the bundle into my hand.

“Take it every time after,” he had said curtly, and walked away without a second glance.

I could tell that he despised speaking to me. He despised the idea of helping me. But he loathed the thought of me bearing the King’s child even more. So, he helped anyway.

I chewed the leaves dry, grinding them between my teeth before swallowing the bitterness down. Then I moved to the bed and lay on the thin mattress.

I pressed my lips together to stifle the groans. There was always pain that followed.

I should have taken them last night, or this morning. But there had been no time. I could only hope the delay wouldn’t weaken their effect.

Staring up at the mold-eaten ceiling, I imagined the leaves taking effect in my belly. I imagined them slicing through the seed he had left inside me, like blades hacking at roots. My mind blurred from the tiredness and the dull throbbing pain in my stomach.

Then sleep came, and with it, the nightmares returned.

I hadn’t had a peaceful dream since the trial. Sometimes, I relived the King hammering the final nails into my coffin. Other times, I found myself back in that damp, rotting cell where I was imprisoned for months before being dragged to the palace. But most often, I returned to that night—the night of my wedding and my eighteenth birthday.

It had been a beautiful evening, bathed in full moonlight. A night the Hescorians called sacred. But instead of a blessing, I received a curse.

That night, my brother Conner died. Cole, whom I had just realized was my fated mate, stood before me with his hand slick with my brother’s blood. He gripped my wrist as he demanded I leave with him.

“I can’t go with you,” I had said, twisting free of his grasp. Jack’s soldiers had surrounded him, claws extended, swords drawn, ready to kill.

He had laughed then. It was the coldest laugh I had ever heard in my life.

“You’re a betrayer, Evelyn Caddel,” He had said, his obsidian eyes burning into mine. “I swear to the Full Moon, you’ll regret the choice you made tonight. I will kill your husband. I will cage you. And when I do, you will beg me for mercy, every day and every night.”

Then the scene before me began to twist and distort. I found myself lying on the grand bed in the King’s Chamber. Cole’s hands gripped my arms tightly as he pounded into me. I teetered between pleasure and pain, my moans louder than any whore in Hescor.

“Are you enjoying it? It was supposed to be punishment, Evelyn.” he sneered darkly above me. “It seems my brother never satisfied you. Maybe he was impotent. He didn’t even mark you before he died, did he? Well then, let me fulfill that duty for him.”

He bent low, his canines flashing under the moonlight.”

“Take it, and you’ll never run from me again.” He growled lowly. The next instant, I felt the sharp tips of his canines pressing against my neck.

“No –”

I startled to wake up at the sound of a knock at my door. Gasping for breath, I wiped the sweat from my brow and moved to answer it.

It was a maid I didn’t recognize. A new face. She looked nervous and fidgety.

“Mrs. Porter wants you to clean the washroom,” she said, wringing her hands.

I narrowed my eyes. The sky outside had already darkened. I’d missed the entire afternoon. If Mrs. Porter had found out, she would more likely have come to rail on me herself.

The maid grew more anxious under my silence. She glanced down the corridor, then looked back at me. “You need to hurry up,” she said, her voice trembling as if she were about to cry.

I followed her glance into the corridor to see what she was looking at, but it was empty.

I considered for a moment, then gave her a calm smile. “Just a moment. Let me braid my hair.”

She nodded quickly. I walked to the tiny vanity in the corner of the room, picked up the comb, and began working through my hair. As I faced the mirror and saw she was no longer looking at me, I quickly stepped toward my bed, opened drawer, and slipped the paring knife into my stocking, hidden beneath my skirts.

I didn’t know if it was a trap that the Circle of Gossip set for me, but I needed to be cautious.

After securing my braided bun, I followed the girl out.

The washroom was silent. I slowed as we approached –

Hands seized me. I was yanked inside and slammed against the tiled wall.

A basin of water was dumped over my head, soaking me to the skin.

I coughed, blinking the water from eyes. The maid who had led me here shrank into the corner like a whipped dog – and, of course, there was no Mrs. Porter in sight. Daniella stood in front of me with a malicious smirk.

“Well, Evelyn Caddel,” she sneered. “Who’s the fool now?”

I struggled, but the man pinning me was a brute. He leered at me.

“Behave,” he growled against my ear. His hot, foul breath made my skin crawl.

“Goddess, she smells sweet. Can I have a taste?”

Daniella shot him a sharp glare. “Be patient. You’ll get your turn.”

The man chuckled low in his throat. I noticed then – he was wearing the uniform of the palace servants.

“You won’t get away with this,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “Someone will find out. Let me go now.”

Daniella slapped me hard across the face.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” she spat. “Still think you’re a highborn lady? Think His Majesty will come running to save you? You foolish, blind slut. He’s enjoying himself with a real lady tonight. No one’s coming for you.”