Alaric's POV

The morning sun broke through the curtains of my chamber. It casted golden streaks across the floor.

I woke up with a sensation. I had not it felt in years. I was happy. My mind immediately went back to the market square.

I could still feel the weight of Sophie in my arms. I remembered the way her pulse jumped when I caught her. I remembered the scent of her hair. It was like wild herbs and rain.

I lay there for a moment. I stared at the ceiling. I let the memory settle. I am a King who has spent his life expecting blades. To hold something so vital felt like a shift in the foundations of my world.

A knock disturbed my thoughts. It was Roland. I recognized the disciplined strike of the Chief Guard.

"Your Majesty." Roland's voice came through the thick wood.

"The Young Prince is ready to see you. He is waiting in the leisure garden."

I sat up. I cleared the sleep from my throat.

"Give the Alpha a second to prepare." I commanded.

I stood up. I grabbed my tunic. It was a deep crimson wool. I pulled it over my shoulders.

I called for the maids. They entered with silent. Their movements practiced. They arranged my attire. They fastened the buckles of my belt. They smoothed the fabric of my cloak.

I looked at myself in the bronze mirror. I looked like a King. But inside I felt like a man who was finally beginning to breathe.

I left my chamber. My boots echoed in the corridors. I walked toward the leisure garden. It was a private expanse of greenery hidden within the palace walls.

I found Young Prince Daemon there. He was sitting on the stone bench. He was kicking his small legs. His face lit up when he saw me.

He is a boy full of energy. He is the opposite of the shadows that define this court.

"Brother." Daemon said.

He stood up. He bowed with a clumsiness that was almost charming.

"We do not dine together more often. I see you in the hall. But you are always surrounded by men with sour faces."

I sat across from him. I felt a rare pang of guilt.

"We eat the same food Daemon. The kitchens serve the same bounty to us all."

"That is not true." The boy argued.

He crossed his arms.

"I am given specific food because they say I am young. It is bland. It is boring. And eating together is different from eating separately. Food tastes better when you have someone to talk to."

I laughed. It was a deep sound. I realized he was right. I had spent my life eating in silence. Or staring at my enemies.

"I promise you." I said.

I reached out. I ruffled his hair.

"We will eat together more often now. I will make sure of it."

I looked toward the palace entrance. I saw Sophie approaching. I had summoned her earlier.

She walked with a grace that was becoming familiar. She looked at the Young Prince with curiosity.

"Sophie." I said.

I gestured for her to come closer.

"This is Young Prince Daemon. I want you to prepare something special for us today. I loved the meal you made for Grand Prince Magnus. It was exceptional. But I want you to make it differently this time. Show the Prince your skill. Add a side dish."

Sophie nodded.

Her eyes were bright.

"I understand Your Majesty. I will prepare something that fits a Prince's palate."

She turned. She headed for the kitchen. Her pace was brisk. She always looked like she was on a mission when food was involved.

Daemon watched her go.

"So that is the ghost chef? The one the servants whisper about? They say she fell from the moon."

"She is not a ghost." I told him.

I leaned back against the stone.

"She is just a woman from a far away land. Her world is different from ours."

"She looks like a person." Daemon noted.

"I would love to eat what you eat every day. I am tired of mashed grains and boiled mutton."

"You will see." I said.

"She does not cook like the others."

We sat in the garden for an hour. We talked about horses. We talked about the wooden sword he practiced with.

He was a little boy. He just wanted to talk to his brother. He didn't care about taxes. He didn't care about border disputes. He just wanted to know if I could teach him how to ride a horse.

Soon the scent reached us. It was savory. It was complex. Sophie appeared at the end of the walkway.

She was leading a small procession. She held a large silver tray. Two other chefs followed behind her. They each carried trays covered in linen. It looked like a buffet fit for a coronation.

They reached the table. They bowed together in unison.

"Your Majesty the food is ready." They said.

I gestured for them to set the table. They moved quickly. They laid out the plates and the silverware.

I looked at the trays. Then I looked at the royal taster who was standing nearby. He was ready to take the first bite.

"Leave us." I commanded.

I looked at the taster.

"All of you. I want to eat with my brother in private."

The servants bowed. They all retreated.

Only Sophie remained standing by the table. I looked at the main dish. It was beautiful.

"Tell me what you have prepared." I said.

"It is a chicken dish." Sophie explained.

She pointed to the golden-brown meat.

"It is different from the one I served the Grand Prince. I have used ginger. I used other medicinal herbs inside the bird. I cooked it slowly. Until the meat was soft. Then I used pumpkin water to coat the skin. I poured hot oil over it. To create a crunch on the outside."

I looked at Daemon. He was already salivating. He was staring at the chicken like it was made of gold.

"What about the sauce?" I asked.

"The root I used last time." She said.

"I brought it fresh today. You can chew the root for its health benefits while using the sweet sauce for the poultry."

I looked at Daemon.

"Do you understand what she said?"

"No." He answered honestly.

"But it smells better than anything I have ever seen."

"Cut the chicken." I told him.

"It is soft. Dip it in the sweet sauce."

Sophie stepped forward.

"Wait. Let me taste it first."

She took a small bite of the chicken. She dipped it in the sauce and ate it. She waited a few seconds.

She was ensuring the food was perfect.

After she nodded. Daemon did not hesitate. He cut a large piece. He dipped it deep into the sauce. He stuffed it into his mouth.

"Hmmmm." He moaned.

"This is delicious! It's like magic."

I laughed. I took a piece for myself. The crunch of the skin was perfect. The ginger was subtle but warming.

"This is what we enjoy every day since Sophie arrived." I told him.

I pointed to the fresh root on the side.

"Eat the root Daemon. It is part of the experience."

He grabbed a piece. He bit into it. His face immediately twisted. He looked like he had bitten into a lemon.

"It's bitter!" He cried.

Sophie smiled. It was a soft kind of expression.

"Roots are often bitter, Little Prince. But they are good for the body. They make you strong."

"I will only eat the sweet one." Daemon declared.

He went back to the chicken. He was stuffing his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in a week.

"Gentle." I warned him.

"Do not choke. The food is not going anywhere."

I turned to Sophie.

"What is the side dish?"

"They are called Macarons." She said.

She pointed to a plate of small colorful rounds.

"They are like delicate biscuits. I have stuffed them with vanilla cream."

"That is enough." I said.

I didn't understand what Macrons are. I don't even know what biscuits are either. I felt a surge of pride in her skill.

"We shall enjoy the rest of this in peace. Sophie once you are done in the kitchen. Meet me at the royal farm by nightfall. I have something to show you."

She nodded. She curtsied and left the garden.

Daemon and I finished the meal. The maids cleared the plates. He was covered in crumbs and sauce. He looked happier than I had ever seen him.

"I want to do this every day." He said.

"We will try." I promised.

Roland arrived to escort the Young Prince back to Queen Mother Isolde's quarters. I watched them walk away.

I felt light. I went back to my chamber. I picked up my journal. The Ledger of Satiety. I sat at my desk and began to draw the meal.

I captured the shape of the Macarons. I wrote down the word 'Ginger.' I wanted to remember this day.

Evening fell over the Blackwood Kingdom. The sky turned a bruised purple. I left the palace. I headed for the royal farm. It was quiet there. The horses were settled.

I stood in the clearing where Sophie fell on me. I walked through the motions again. I remembered how I caught her at the market. I practiced how I would hold her again. I imagined her falling and me being there to catch her. I found myself smiling at the empty air. I was acting like a fool but I did not care.

I waited. One hour passed. The moon rose high. The crickets began their song. Sophie did not come.

I started to wonder. Perhaps she was delayed in the kitchen. Perhaps she was tired.

But a feeling of dread began to crawl up my neck. Sophie was never late. She was disciplined.

I saw a torch flickering in the distance. It was moving fast. It was Roland. He was running.

My heart hammered. I stepped forward.

"Roland? Where is she?" I asked.

Roland stopped. He was out of breath. His face was pale.. He looked at me with eyes full of grave news.

"Your Majesty." He gasped.

"You must come quickly."

"What happened?" I demanded.

I grabbed his shoulder.

"It's the Chief Royal Chef." Roland said.

"What happened to her?" I demanded.

My heart skipped a beat.

"She has been arrested. She is in the palace prison."

The world went cold. The smile vanished from my face. I felt the wolf inside me growl.

Sophie's POV

The kitchen was finally quiet. The fire had faded. The sharp scent of ginger still in the air.

All my muscles ached. The fatigue was satisfying. I had watched Prince Daemon eat with a great appetite. It warmed my heart.

Seeing the two brothers share a meal. It felt like home.

I wiped my hands. I signaled the other chefs. We were a parade of exhausted souls. We walked toward the servants' quarters.

The stone hall was cold. A welcome relief from the heat of the ovens. I planned to see them to their doors. Then return to my chamber. I wanted to wash away the sweat. I wanted to look presentable. I planned to meet Alaric at the royal farm.

My heart flipped nervously at the thought of the farm. The way he had looked at me in the garden. The look was softer. Less like a King and more like a man.

"You outdid yourself today Sophie." Martha whispered.

She walked beside me.

"The Prince looked like he had found heaven on a plate."

"It was just chicken and roots Martha." I said.

Though I couldn't hide my smile.

We cornered the lower courtyard. But our path was blocked. Two palace guards stood like iron statues. Their spears crossed. Between them stood a woman I had never seen before.

She was older. She dressed in violet silk. Her face was a mask of cold rage. Her eyes weren't just angry. They were predatory.

I stopped. The chefs behind me huddled together. They sensed the shift in the air. I bowed my head respectfully.

"Good evening My Lady." I said.

My voice steady. I attempted to step to the side to pass her.

I didn't see her hand move.

Smack.

A slap landed across my cheek. The force was so sudden and violent. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang.

The world tilted. I felt the sharp sting of her rings cutting into my skin. I heard the collective gasp of the chefs.

I turned my head back to face her. My cheek burned with heat. I tasted copper in my mouth.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I asked.

My voice trembled. Not from fear. But from the shock of the assault.

"You still have the guts to ask such a question?" The woman hissed.

Her voice was a low tremor of fury.

"After you poisoned my son?"

The world stopped. My heart dropped. Poisoned?

"Poisoned?" I repeated.

The word feeling like ash in my mouth.

"Is the Alpha sick? Is Alaric..."

Smack.

She slapped me again. This time on the other side. My lip split.

"So your only concern is the Alpha?" She screamed.

"My son lies gasping for air while you worry about the King! You served Prince Daemon a meal of death this morning!"

The realization hit me. This was Queen Mother Isolde. Alaric's stepmother. Daemon's mother.

"My Lady." I said.

I forced myself to stand straight despite the pain.

"The Alpha ate the same food. Every ingredient in that poultry was fresh. If the Young Prince is ill then the Alpha would be sick as well. We ate from the same bird."

"Lies!" She shrieked.

"You used your charms. You used your tricks to make the Alpha send the royal taster away. You orchestrated the entire thing so you could kill the boy without interference! You are a witch!"

"I tasted the food myself." I argued.

I stepped forward. I tried to make her see reason.

"I took a bite before the Young Prince even touched his fork. If there was poison in that dish I should be dead or dying by now. Look at me. I am standing right here."

Isolde's eyes narrowed. They became nothing but slits of ice.

"I don't want to hear your lies. A viper can swallow its venom and survive. You are a monster sent to destroy my lineage."

She turned to the guards. Her finger pointed at my chest like a dagger.

"Grab her. Take her to the depths. I will torture the truth out of her myself."

The guards lunged. Martha suddenly threw herself forward. She grabbed my arm.

"No! Please Your Majesty!" Martha cried.

Her voice breaking.

"I prepared the food with her! I saw every spice. Every herb! We even ate the remaining portions in the kitchen afterward. It must be a mistake! A sudden illness perhaps, but not the food!"

Isolde turned her gaze on Martha.

"You want to defend a murderer? If you do not keep your mouth shut. You will find yourself in a cell beside her."

The other chefs dropped to their knees. They pressed their foreheads to the floor. They wailed for mercy. Their voices echoing off the high ceilings.

"Your crying won't bring my son back!" Isolde barked.

The guards grabbed my arms. Their grip was like iron. It bruised my skin. They dragged me away.

My boots scuffing against the floor. I didn't fight. I knew that fighting would only give them an excuse to kill me.

They led me down. Away from the light. Away from the scent of herbs and the hope of the farm.

The palace prison was a place of damp stone and the smell of rot. They threw me into a room with chains hanging from the walls.

Isolde followed. She didn't ask questions. She wanted a confession.

The next hour was full of pain. I felt the strike of a whip across my back. I felt the cold splash of water when I tried to close my eyes.

They wanted me to say I was an assassin. They wanted me to say someone had sent me.

"I don't know what happened to the Prince." I whispered.

My voice failing. My back was a map of fire.

"I only wanted... to feed him."

A final blow to the side of my head sent the world into darkness.

I went unconscious. But I wasn't in the cell anymore.

The pain vanished. I was standing in a bright hall. The air smelled of expensive oil. And polished wood.

I looked down. I saw a trophy in my hands. It was heavy. It was silver. I remembered this. This was the last competition I won. I heard the roar of the crowd. I heard the flash of cameras.

I saw my father. He was standing near the stage. His face glowing with a pride. I had worked my whole life to earn. He opened his arms to welcome me.

"You did it Sophie." He seemed to say.

I moved toward him. I wanted to stay there. I wanted the dream to be my reality. I wanted to be back in a world where food brought joy and trophies. Not chains and blood.

I reached for his hand. I was desperate to cross the threshold back to my normal life.

But a voice pulled me back. It wasn't my father's. It was deeper. Sharper. It was full of a terrifying power.

"Touch her again and you die where you stand!"

My eyes snapped open. The transition from the bright dream to the damp cell was agonizing.

I was lying on the cold floor. My head throbbed. I looked up through a haze of blood and tears.

Alaric was there.

He didn't look like the man who had ruffled Daemon's hair. He looked like the Alpha King of legend. His cloak was gone. His tunic was damp with sweat.

He was facing Queen Mother Isolde in a heated argument that shook the very stones of the prison.

"She is a common assassin Alaric!" Isolde screamed.

She was pointing at my broken form.

"Your brother is dying because of her!"

"My brother is ill. She did not do it!" Alaric roared back.

In one swift motion. Alaric reached out. He didn't use his own weapon. He drew the heavy broadsword from Roland's belt. Roland stood frozen behind him.

The steel sang as it left the scabbard. Alaric raised the blade high. His golden eyes were glowing with a murderous light.

"Step away from her." Alaric commanded.

Isolde stood her ground. Her face twisted.

"You would strike your step mother for a peasant?"

The sword began its descent. It came down with a dangerous weight.

Alaric's POV

The world did not just stop. Roland spoke; it withered. The air turned to ash in my lungs. As the Chief Guard uttered the words. Sophie had been imprisoned.

The palace and it's history suddenly felt hollow. It was like the quiet before a hurricane. A silence so heavy. It made my eardrums throbbed.

Then the realization hit me. This was a plot. A calculated trap. It was designed to ensnare the only person who brought me peace.

I felt the wolf inside me stir. Its claws raking against my ribs. I had been a fool. I should have seen the invitation for what it was. I should have declined the offer to dine. I should have protected her from the vipers that call themselves my family.

I looked at Roland. My face was no longer that of a King. It was the face of a predator. My jaw tightened. I heard my bone creak.

"Who arrested her?" I asked.

My voice was low.

"Queen Mother Isolde Sire." Roland replied.

His voice steady despite the tension.

I did not wait for another word. I moved immediately.

I did not walk. I surged through the palace halls. Every servant who saw me scrambled. They pressed themselves against the walls. They sensef the lethal energy radiating from my skin.

I headed straight for the depths. The palace prison. A place where the air smells of forgotten hope.

When I reached the iron bars. I saw her.

Sophie was lying on the filthy floor. She looked so small. She looked so fragile. Her clothes were torn. The light of the torches revealed bruises on her skin. She was unconscious.

A sound escaped my throat. I did not recognize it. It was a sob. It was raw.

I knelt by the bars. I reached my hand through the cold iron. I tried to touch the hem of her garment.

I felt like a child who had lost his mother. A painful vulnerability I had buried decades ago.

"Sophie." I whispered.

My voice breaking.

"Please. Do not leave me."

The vulnerability did not last. It was quickly incinerated by a blinding rage. I remembered who I was. I was the Alpha King of the Blackwood Kingdom. Someone had dared to touch what was mine.

I stood up. My height seemed to double. I turned to the guards at the cell door.

"Open this cell right now." I yelled.

The sound bounced off like a thunderclap.

The guards stood frozen. They looked at each other. Then back at me. Their eyes wide with a mix of confusion and terror. They did not move.

"Did you not hear me?" I asked. I stepped closer until I smelled the fear-sweat on them.

"I said open this cell right now!"

"No... we cannot Alpha." One of the guards stammered.

His hand shaking as he gripped his spear.

"We do not mean to disrespect you but we are following orders. The Queen Mother..."

I did not let him finish. I shifted.

My bones started cracking. Fur sprouted. My snout lengthened. My muscles doubled in size. I reached out with a clawed hand. I grabbed the guard by the neck. I hoisted him off the ground. Until his boots dangled uselessly in the air.

"Do you dare challenge my order?" I snarled.

"No!" He wheezed.

His face turning a sickly shade of purple.

I dropped him. He hit the floor in a heap. He gasped for air.

"Open the cell. Immediately."

"I would love to Alpha." He cried.

He was cowering against the wall.

"But I am not with the keys. I don't have them!"

"Who has them?" I roared.

My golden eyes glowing in the dark.

"Queen Mother Isolde." He squeaked.

"She took the keys with her. She said no one enters or leaves without her word."

"Then break this gate!" I screamed.

I shifted back into my human form. My skin still pulsed with the heat of the transformation.

"I don't bloody care! Bring her out of that place now!"

The guards panicked. It's been a long time since I shifted in anger. They scrambled toward the gate. They were looking for a way to force the lock.

A voice interrupted with calculated authority.

"No one touches that gate."

I turned my head slowly. Queen Mother Isolde stood at the end of the hall. She was followed by four guards.

She looked at the scene. The trembling guards. The unconscious girl. And my disheveled state. She looked with immense satisfaction.

"What did you just say?" I asked.

My voice dangerously quiet.

"I said she remains there until she says the truth." Isolde said.

She stepped into the light.

"What truth?" I interrupted.

My hands curling into fists.

"The truth about her poisoning my son." She spat.

"The truth about how she tried to kill a Prince of Blackwood."

I let out a laugh of pure mockery.

"Did I not eat the same food with Young Prince Daemon? Look at me woman! How am I still standing here healthy? If there was poison in that pot. I would be dead."

Isolde raised a groomed eyebrow.

"Maybe you both planned it. Maybe you took an antidote. Maybe you wanted to appear the hero while the boy suffered."

I felt my wolf struggling to burst forth again. The accusation was so foul. So illogical. It felt like a physical sting.

"Why would I want to poison Daemon?" I asked.

I moved toward her.

"He is my brother. He is a child."

"Because he is the next King after you." She said.

Her voice rising.

"You are a tyrant Alaric. You probably don't want a competition. You want to clear the path before he grows strong enough to challenge your bloodthirsty rule."

I narrowed my eyes. I looked her straight in the soul. The masks were off now. The years of feigned peace and forced smiles were over.

"So all this while you've been acting like you are at peace with me." I said.

My voice trembling with suppressed fury.

"You've been harboring this poison in your heart. You've been waiting for a reason to hate me."

Isolde didn't blink.

"I don't know what you are talking about. All I want is for that ghost to tell me what she did to my son."

"She is not a ghost!" I yelled.

The sound echoing through the prison.

"And you will release her now!"

"Over my dead body will that prison gate be opened." She said.

Her voice turning to ice.

"My son is lying half-dead. He is gasping for his life. And you are supporting a woman whose very origin is unknown. A girl who appeared out of the mist to bewitch you."

"Open the cell Isolde." I warned.

"This is your last chance."

"I won't do it." She repeated.

Her eyes burning with a zealot's flame.

"I said it. And I mean it. Over my dead body will that creature leave that cell."

My patience broke. The last thread of my restraint snapped.

I reached out. I drew Roland's broadsword from his hip. The steel sang as it cleared the scabbard. I did not care about the laws of the land. I did not care about the council or the elders. I only cared about the woman bleeding behind me.

I raised the sword high. It felt heavy. And right in my hand. I was ready to kill my own stepmother to free the woman who had brought me peace.

The sword began to descent. It was coming down with a terrifying force.

"Alaric... stop."

The voice was faint. A little more than a whisper. But it stopped the sword mid-air. It was a familiar voice. A soothing balm that cut through my rage like a cooling rain.

I turned my head. Sophie was awake. She had managed to drag herself toward the bars. Her hand clutching the iron for support. She looked at me. Her eyes clouded with pain. But filled with strange wisdom.

"Sophie." I breathed.

The sword trembling in my hand.

"Alaric... put it down." She struggled to speak.

Her voice cracking.

"Please. Put down the sword."

"She did this to you." I growled.

I looked back at Isolde.

"I know." Sophie whispered.

"But I know what will happen if you kill your stepmother. The kingdom... the elders... it won't be good for you. You will lose everything. Please. For me."

I didn't fully understand what she meant. But her voice alone was enough to quell the beast inside. The sword fell from my hands. It clattered loudly against the stone floor. I ignored Isolde. I ignored the guards. I ran to the bars. I sank to my knees.

I reached into my tunic. I pulled out the accessory; the bronze vine clasp she admired at the market. I had bought it for her. I intended to give it to her at the farm. I wanted to tell her to stay. Not as a chef. But as something more.

I pushed the small trinket through the bars. She took it with shaking fingers. A small smile touched her split lip.

"I wanted to give this to you... before all this chaos." I said.

My heart heavy with guilt.

"Be calm Alaric." She said.

Her hand reaching out to touch mine through the iron.

"I have been here before. Remember? I was in a cell when I first came to this palace. I survived then. I will survive now. The truth will come out eventually. It always does."

The guilt washed over me in a cold wave. I was the one who had thrown her in a cell when she first arrived. I was the one who had treated her like a criminal. And now she was the one comforting me.

"Sophie I will get you out." I promised.

"Go to bed Alpha." She said.

Her eyes closing briefly.

"Go. I will be out before you know it. Just... find out what is wrong with the Prince. Find the real cause."

I forced myself to stand up.

Every muscle in my body protested. I moved away from the bars. The pain in my was greater than any physical wound.

I looked at Isolde one last time. She was still standing there. She looked triumphant. But she had miscalculated. She thought she had won a victory. But she had only succeeded in identifying herself.

Isolde was no longer just my stepmother. She was my number one enemy.

And the Blackwood wolf does not forget an enemy.