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.

Alaric's POV

The walk from the palace prison to my chambers was the longest of my life.

The air felt stagnant. Thick with the smell of blood I knew belonged to her. Each footfall echoed like a funeral bell.

I moved in silence. A ghost haunting my own palace. My mind was a storm of violence. I wanted to turn back. I wanted to tear the iron gates with my bare hands. I wanted to carry her into the sunlight.

But her voice. That faint whisper held me back. She had asked me to do nothing. She had begged me for peace. But all I felt was a craving for war.

I pushed open the door to my chamber. I stepped inside. The room was cold. The fireplace had long since burned out. I did not call for the servants to relight it. I deserved the cold.

My eyes immediately fell upon my bedside table.

There was sitting in a silver vase. The flower Sophie had given me. I had placed it in fresh water. I had hoped to see it bloom. As a symbol of our burgeoning connection.

It was beautiful. Its petals were vibrant. a splash of color against the grey stone of my life. But the sight of it was like a blade in my chest.

How could I appreciate the beauty of a gift when the woman who gave it to me was sitting on a cold floor? How could I nurture this life when I was letting hers wither in the dark?

I sat heavily at my desk. I reached for the Ledger. The book that had become the bridge between our worlds. I flipped through the pages. I looked at the sketches of the meals she had prepared.

The golden poultry. The vibrant herbs. The delicate Macarons. I tried to summon the happy moments. I tried to remember the heat of the kitchen. The way she smiled when I liked her spices. But the memories were hollow. They were poisoned by the image of her bruised face and her split lip.

The pain was a physical weight. It sat on my lungs. It made every breath a struggle. I did not go to bed. I did not undress. I sat in the chair. I stared at the flower. I watched the moonlight move across the floor. Until it was replaced by the mocking grey of dawn.

I was awake until morning. My heart ached. Like a rhythm that felt like a countdown to disaster.

A knock came at the door. It was rhythmic and disciplined. Roland.

"Your Majesty." He called out.

"The elders have gathered for the morning assembly. They are waiting for you in the Grand Hall to discuss the trade routes and the tax levies."

I did not move from my chair. I did not even look at the door.

"Tell them to return to their houses." I said.

My voice sounding like gravel.

"The Alpha is not interested in seeing anyone today. Or tomorrow. Tell them the King is occupied."

"Sire they have traveled from the border provinces..."

"I do not care if they traveled from the moon!" I roared.

The sound vibrating in my chest.

"Get them out of my sight!"

I heard Roland's heavy footsteps retreat.

I felt no satisfaction in my command. I only felt a churning emptiness.

An hour later. The door creaked open. It was Elspeth. The oldest chef. She carried a silver tray. It was ladened with bread. Honey. And smoked meat.

The aroma of the food hit me. For a split second my stomach cramped with hunger. But then I remembered the prison. I remembered the moldy crusts they served to the inmates.

"Your Majesty." Elspeth said softly.

She set the tray on the side table.

"Your morning meal is ready. You must eat to keep your strength."

I looked at the steam rising from the bread.

"I am not interested in eating Elspeth. Take it away."

"But Sire you did not eat last night..."

"Take it away." I repeated.

My eyes fixed on the flower.

She sighed and retreated. The tray clinking as she left.

Then came Cassian. He did not knock. He entered with the familiarity of a best friend. His face etched with worry.

He walked over to the window. He pulled back the curtains. Letting the harsh morning light flood the room. I winced. I shielded my eyes.

"Alaric you look like a man who has been buried alive." Cassian said.

He sits on the edge of my bed.

"The palace is in an uproar. Isolde is whispering in the ears of the council. You are up here brooding. We need to plan. We need to find out what really happened to Daemon."

"I told you I am not interested in seeing anyone." I said.

My voice flat.

"I want to be left alone Cassian. Even by you."

"I'm not leaving you to rot in this room while that girl sits in a cell." Cassian argued.

"She told me to wait." I whispered.

I final looked at him.

"She told me the truth would come out. If I move now. I prove Isolde right. I become the tyrant who breaks the law for a woman. I am honoring her request. But it is killing me."

"Starving yourself won't help her." He said.

"Leave." I commanded.

Cassian looked at me for a long time. He saw the iron resolve in my eyes. The kind of resolve that usually won wars. He nodded slowly. He walked out. He closed the door behind him.

The hours bled into one another. I lost track of time. I sat in the silence. Listening to the heartbeat of the palace. I heard the distant shouting of guards. The clatter of wagons. And the whispers in the hall.

But all I wanted was to hear her voice.

Then the door opened again. This time it wasn't a servant or a friend.

It was Lady Elara. She walked in with her chin held high. She wore a dress that made her look like a jewel.

She had a practiced smile on her face. The kind she used when she wanted to play the role of the devoted consort. She clearly thought that with Sophie in prison, her position had been restored by default.

"Alaric." She said.

Her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

She walked toward me. She reached out a hand to touch my shoulder.

"I heard of the terrible news. I am here to comfort you. We all know that common girl was trouble from the start. You must let her go. You must focus on those who truly love you."

I felt a surge of revulsion. It was so strong it made my skin crawl. I stood up. I loomed over her. I did not touch her. But the force of my presence made her stumble back.

"Comfort?" I asked.

My voice a dangerous snarl.

"You think I want comfort from you? You are a chameleon Elara. You change your colors to match whatever power is in the room. You have no loyalty. No heart. And no honor."

"I have been by your side for years!" She cried.

Her face twisting in anger.

"You have been by the throne's side." I corrected her.

"I would rather die of pain than receive a single word of comfort from you. Get out. Before I forget that I am supposed to be a civilized King."

She turned and fled. I watched her go. I felt nothing but hard clarity.

I sent the elders away again the next day. I rejected my morning meal. I rejected my afternoon meal. I rejected my evening meal.

For three days I touched nothing but water. My ribs began to show beneath my skin. My eyes grew sunken and dark. My wolf was restless. It howled in the back of my mind. It demanded meat. It demanded blood. It demanded Sophie.

I told myself that I would not attend to a single palace duty. I would not sign a single decree. I would not hear a single petition. I would rather starve since the woman who brought me peace was starving.

If she was to suffer. Then the King would suffer with her. If she was to be denied the comforts of life, then the Kingdom would be denied its ruler.

I stood by the window on the third night. I was looking out over the Blackwood forest.

The hunger was no longer a sharp pain. It was a dull ache that made my head light.

My body was consuming itself. Just as my heart was consuming my reason. I looked down at the courtyard. I saw the guards patrolling. They were all complicit. Every one of them who stood by and let her be dragged away.

Isolde thought she could break me by taking her. She thought she could force me back into my role by removing the "distraction."

She was wrong. She hadn't removed a distraction. She had removed the anchor.

"Let them wait." I whispered to the empty room.

"Let the council grumble. Let the elders plot. Let the kitchens grow cold."

I thought of the Young Prince Daemon. I felt concern for the boy. But it was overshadowed by the rage I felt for his mother.

If the boy died. Isolde would ensure Sophie followed him to the grave. I had to find a way to save them both. But the hunger was making it hard to think.

I looked back at the flower. It was wilting. Its edges were turning brown. I reached out. I touched a petal. It felt like dry paper.

"Everyone will suffer for what they've done to her." I promised the dying bloom.

"If she does not walk out of that prison soon. I will burn this palace to the ground with everyone inside it."

I sank back into my chair. The darkness of the room closing in on me.

I was the Alpha King. But without her.

I was just a beast in a cage of my own making.