Sophie's POV

The atmosphere in the royal kitchen had changed. It was no longer a battlefield. It now felt like a sanctuary.

The suffocating weight of suspicion that greeted me on my first day was gone.

The staff no longer looked at me with hate. They stood straight.

Silas and the other master chef bowed their heads.

Silas spoke first.

"Chef Sophie."

His voice was thick. His voice sounded sincere.

He didn't look up from the floor.

He stepped forward and held out his hands.

The hands I had saved from the blade.

"We owe you more than our livelihood. We owe you our lives. We are at your command." Silas said.

I felt a lump form in my throat.

Back home, my kitchen was a place of high-stress egos and shouting.

But here, it was life and death.

I reached out for his hands. I gently squeezed them.

"No commands, Silas. Just help me keep the Alpha fed. That's all the thanks I need."

Martha stood by me. Her eyes sparkling like she'd just seen a miracle.

"Sophie, that soup... I've never seen the Grand Queen Mother look like that. You didn't just win a competition. You gave her a piece of her mother's love back."

She leaned in. Her voice dropping to a hopeful whisper.

"Will you... will you teach me? I want to know how you make the food speak."

I looked at her eager face. So young and full of dreams in a world that usually crushed them.

"Every secret I have Martha. I promise."

My moment of peace was short-lived.

The kitchen door opened. Armor clanked on the stone floor.

The Chief Guard entered.

He didn't sneer this time. He looked at me with caution. He couldn't decide if I was a savior or a siren.

"The Alpha is in the Leisure Garden." The guard announced.

"He requires his evening meal. And Sophie... he warned that his mood is as dark as the moonless sky. He wants something he has never tasted. Something fresh. Something creative. Failure meant the end of mercy."

My stomach did a nervous flip.

Alaric wasn't just hungry; he was haunted.

I quickly prepared Melon soup. I dished it in a bowl. Headed for the garden.

The Leisure Garden was a hidden gem within the palace walls.

Willow trees hung over a stream. Water moved over stones. Jasmine scented the air.

I saw Alaric. He sat on a bench. An empty wine decanter sat on the table. He gripped a silver goblet so tight. I thought the metal might buckle.

His eyes looked at the water. They were gold and distant. He looked trapped in his thoughts.

I approached the table at the center of the garden.

The air didn't feel peaceful. It felt charged. Like the moment before a lightning strike.

I carried a tray. I had prepared chilled melon soup. I added mint and wild honey.

Something light to balance the wine and his grief.

"Your Majesty," I whispered.

Alaric didn't turn.

"The ghost returns." he muttered.

His voice soft but still holding that dangerous, predatory edge.

"Tell me. Chef... do you have a recipe for forgetting? Because I have searched the bottom of this bottle. The memories are still as sharp as daggers."

I set the tray down.

"Food is for remembering, Alaric." I said softly.

"If you want to forget. You're talking to the wrong person."

The Royal Taster stepped forward.

A thin man who looked frightened to the teeth.

He was about to take a bite.

"Leave." Alaric growled.

He finally turned his head.

His eyes bloodshot. His face flushed from the wine.

"Leave us."

"But Alpha." The taster stammered.

"The protocol..."

"I said leave!" Alaric roared.

He slammed the goblet onto the table.

The man disappeared into the shadows of the willows. He didn't look back.

Alaric turned his gaze to me. It was intense. Raw and frighteningly intimate.

"You taste it." He commanded.

He gestured to the bowl.

"If I am to be poisoned tonight. Let it be by your hand."

I took a careful sip.

"It's safe Alaric. I promise."

He didn't eat. He just watched me quietly. The stream made the only sound.

He looked so small. His massive frame became invisible.

He wasn't a King at that moment. He was a son missing his mother.

I stood up. I turned to leave.

"Please stay," he whispered.

"Just... stay."

He tried to lie back on the cushions. The wine made him clumsy. He tripped over the table.

I reached out to catch his arm. His weight pulled me down.

We fell onto the bench. I landed on his chest. My face was inches from his.

The world narrowed down to the heat of his body. I smelled wine and cedar.

My heart raced.

We were breathing the same air.

I tried to get up.

"I'm so sorry. I..."

"No." He whispered.

His large hand moved to my back. He pulled me down softly. He did not use force.

"Please stay. Just for a moment."

I looked into his eyes. I saw my own loneliness there.

I froze. I should have moved. I should have ran back to the safety of the kitchens.

Then, the world shifted.

Alaric moved his hand to my neck. His thumb touched my jaw. He pulled my head toward him.

He kissed me.

The kiss felt desperate.

It felt like five hundred years of waiting.

My brain issued a warning.

This man was the Alpha King. He was drunk. He was dangerous. He would regret this in the morning. He might execute me for this touch.

My body ignored the fear.

My heart beat against my ribs. I didn't know whether to pull out. I just laid still while he kissed me.

I knew I was playing with fire.

But for the first time in my life. I wasn't scared of burning.

Sophie's POV

I slammed the heavy stone pestle into the mortar.

Each crack echoing against the wall felt good. It felt like a small, satisfying victory. I repeated the motion.

Crush. Grind. Destroy.

I had not slept for a single second. My mind held the scent of cedar and wine. I felt the touch of Alaric on my back. That kiss should not exist.

My hands shook.

I reached for the ginger root. I sliced it with jagged, violent movements.

I was a modern woman. I survived a temporal rift. A hunting net. A fall off a cliff. Even the trial of skill.

I do not accept being a drunken convenience for a tyrant.

"Sophie? You are hurting the ginger."

I looked up.

Martha watched me from the prep table. Her eyes showed concern. She had never seen me like this. In the short time I had been here, I had been terrified, confused, or determined.

But today, I was radiating pure, unadulterated heat.

"I am fine Martha." I said. My voice was tight.

I kept my eyes on the cutting board.

"You are not fine." Martha countered.

She moved closer. Her voice dropped.

"I have never seen you this angry. Your face looks pale. Did something happen in the garden? Did the Alpha... did he threaten you?"

I could not explain a five hundred year mistake.

"The King was drunk." I said.

I focused on the pot of boiling water.

"He was loud. He was difficult. I am simply tired."

I turned back to the stove. I was making a recovery soup. I used bone broth, fresh ginger, honey, and lemon balm. It was a cure for hangover.

It would settle his stomach. It will clear his blood. I dished the liquid into a wooden bowl. I set it on a tray.

"Elspeth." I called out.

The eldest chef hurried over. Her gray hair was tucked neatly under her cap.

I handed her the tray.

"Take this to the King's chambers. Tell him it is for his head. Ensure he drinks it all."

"You are not coming?" Elspeth asked surprised.

"I have stock to skim." I replied.

I didn't look at her.

I watched them leave.

I tried to focus on the steam rising from the pots. I tried to convince myself that I was safe in the kitchen.

Ten minutes later. The peace was shattered.

The kitchen doors flew open. Elspeth ran back inside. Her face pale. Her chest heaving. She was panting hard. She couldn't speak.

Behind her, the other junior cooks looked like they had seen a massacre.

"He destroyed a washbasin. He threw the first tray. He is having fits!" Elspeth screamed.

I frowned.

"Fits? What does that mean? Is he having a seizure?"

"No!" Elspeth grabbed my arm.

"The fits of rage! When the Alpha is angry, he destroys everything in his path. He is yelling."

She lowered her voice. Her eyes darting around.

"Usually, only Lady Elara can comfort him during the fits. She goes in and calms the wolf. But today... he is different."

"What did he say?" I asked.

My heart began to thud.

"He demanded you." Elspeth whispered.

"He threatened to destroy the kitchen if you did not appear."

I stood still. I searched my memory of the history books. My father taught me every legend about Alaric the Tyrant. But he never mentioned these "fits."

It sounded less like a king. It sounded like a man who can't handle his own head.

I grabbed a fresh tray. I dished out a second bowl of the recovery soup. My anger was still there. I walked out of the kitchen. My clogs clicked against the stone floor.

I walked to the royal chambers. Guards stood at the door. They looked afraid. They opened the oak door for me.

I stepped inside. The room was a mess. A chair sat upside down. Broken wood lay on the rug. Alaric stood by the window. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

As the door clicked shut. I saw him freeze. He didn't turn immediately. He smoothed his tunic. He fixed his hair. He adjusted his posture. He was composing himself. For me.

I set the tray on the table. I kept my eyes fixed on the soup. I did not look at him. I felt his gaze.

It was heavy. It was hungry. Usually, I looked at him with curiosity or defiance.He wanted me to look at him. He now craved that look. My silence bothered him.

"What is this?" he asked.

His voice was a raspy rumble. It was still rough from the wine.

"Ginger and honey broth." I said. My voice was flat. Professional.

"It will settle your stomach. The lemon balm will reduce the pressure in your head. Drink it while it is hot."

I moved to step back. I still did not look at him.

"Sophie," he said. He sounded confused. "Look at me."

"I am a chef, Your Majesty. I am looking at the meal."

"Are you well?" he asked. He stepped closer. I could felt heat radiating from his body.

I couldn't help it. My head snapped up. I glared at him.

"Why would you ask if I am okay? After what happened yesterday?"

Alaric blinked. His storm-gray eyes were genuinely blank.

"Yesterday? You brought me soup in the garden. I drank. I remember the moon was bright. Why does that make you look at me with such venom?"

I felt a surge of pure, hot bile in my throat. "So you don't remember? You truly have no memory of your actions?"

"I woke with a headache" he said softly.

"Did you wake on the wrong side of your bed? Or do you want to me to get you a new bed?"

I leaned across the table. My face was inches from his.

I was so angry I forgot he could have me executed.

"You don't remember... muah?" I twisted my mouth into a ridiculous kissing shape.

I held it for a second. My face burning with the memory of his lips on mine.

Alaric stared at my mouth. He looked baffled.

"Muah? What is a muah? Why are you making that sound? Is that how you say you are sick where you come from?"

I straightened up. I wanted to hit him.

"I knew it. I knew he would do this. He harass me. And now he is pretending it never happened. All because he is a King and I am a prisoner." My mind whispered.

Before I could say a word. A commotion broke out in the hall. Shouting echoed through the door.

"I must see him! Move aside!"

It was Elara. I recognized her melodic voice. She was wrestling with the guards. She sounded desperate. She truly believed she was the only cure for his "fits."

Alaric's head snapped toward the door. The vulnerability I had seen a moment ago vanished. His golden eyes flared.

"What is that noise?" He yelled.

The door creaked open an inch.

A guard's face appeared.

"Alpha! Lady Elara insists on entering. She says she is here to provide your comfort."

Alaric turned back to me. His intensity was terrifying. He looked at me. Like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. Like he wanted to devour me.

"I said I would see no one." Alaric's voice cut through the room. "That includes Lady Elara. Tell her to return to her chambers immediately."

I saw Elara's face through the gap in the door. She was frozen. She saw me standing there. She saw Alaric looking at me with a heat she clearly didn't possess. Her face contorted with pure jealousy.

She turned and stomped away.

The room went silent. Alaric turned back to me. He reached out a hand to touch my arm.

I stepped back. I looked him dead in the eye.

"You have no right." I said. My voice was low but steady.

"You have no right to harass me. You have no right to kiss me like I belong to you. I am your chef Alaric. Not your toy."

I turned on my heel and walked out.

I didn't wait for his permission. I didn't look back.

I left the King of Blackwood standing alone in his wreckage.

Alaric's POV

The door closed behind Sophie. The sound echoed in my chamber. My skin felt hot. I stood in the silence.

I am the Alpha of Blackwood. I am the King of the North. Men tremble when I speak. My council bows. My enemies flee. Yet a girl in strange clothes had accused me of harassment.

Muah.

I touched my lips. I looked at the soup. My head was thumping from the wine. My mind was spinning faster.

What had I done? I tried to remember the night. I remembered the garden. I remembered the scent of jasmine. I remembered her holding my arm. The rest was a dark void.

"Cassian!" I roared.

The side door opened immediately.

My Beta and oldest friend stepped in. He did not look at the broken furniture. He looked at me with a smirk. It made me want to shift and tear his throat out.

"You called, Your Majesty?" Cassian asked. He crossed his arms. "Or should I say, Your Romance?"

"Silence." I barked.

I paced the length of the rug. "The Chief Royal Chef. She claims I... I laid hands on her last night. She used a strange word. She made a sound with her mouth."

I stopped and looked at him. I needed him to tell me she was lying. I needed him to say she was crazy.

Cassian's smirk widened.

"She is not lying, Alaric. You did more than putting your hands on her. You clung to her like a pup to a mother. You put your lips on hers and refused to let go. I watched from the shadows. I made sure you did not fall into the stream. Until I realized I was watching a theater of the heart."

I felt the blood drain from my face. I touched my mouth again. My fingers shook. I had kissed the spirit sent by the Goddess.

"I do not remember. Why do I not remember?" I asked calmly.

"Because you drank enough wine to kill a lesser wolf." Cassian said.

"She is furious. She believes you took advantage of your crown."

"I must satisfy her anger." I muttered.

I looked at the scattered pieces of the tray.

"I want you to send for the royal jeweler. I will give her silks from the southern trade routes. I will give her gold pins for her hair."

Cassian let out a sharp laugh.

"You are so funny Alaric. You think every woman is like Elara? Elara loves gold because it buys her power. The ghost chef does not care for your shiny rocks. She looks at your crown like it is a kitchen pot."

"Then what does she want?" I demanded. "I am a King. I give gifts. That is how peace is made..."

"She speaks of her bag." Cassian interrupted.

His face turning serious.

"And that book. The ledger she was holding when you found her in the net. She says her life is inside that bag. If you want her to forgive you. Help her find her treasure. Give her back her past."

I felt a cold shiver in my chest.

If I found that book. It would take her back. She would disappear into the air.

"Take two guards." I commanded.

"Go to the cliff. Search the riverbanks. Search every thicket. Find the bag. Find the book. Bring them to me."

Cassian bowed. He turned and left.

In my heart, a dark thought took root. I prayed the book remained lost. I am the Tyrant King. Yet I was becoming a prisoner to a strange girl. I did not want her to have a way home.

I left the wreckage of my room. I needed quiet.

I walked to my private study. A small chamber hidden behind the library. This was where I spent my hours alone. This was where I wrote the laws of the pack.

I sat at the heavy oak desk. I pulled out a fresh journal. The leather was new. The pages were white and empty.

I picked up a charcoal stick. I did not write a law. I did not plan a war. Instead, I began to draw.

I drew the bowl of chilled melon soup. I drew the nut tart. I drew the recovery broth she had just brought me. I wrote down her explanations in the margins.

Lemon balm for the head. Ginger for the gut.

I found myself smiling as I sketched the steam rising from a wooden bowl.

I stopped. I dropped the charcoal.

Why am I thinking about the ghost? I asked myself.

My kingdom was facing a winter of hunger. The southern packs were restless. I was a King. Yet I was sitting in a dark room drawing soup. I was obsessed. I was distracted.

A sharp knock at the door broke my thoughts. A guard entered. He bowed his head low.

"Alpha. The Elders have gathered in the Great Hall. They demand an audience. They say the matter is urgent."

"Leave." I said.

"I will be there."

I looked at the new journal. I needed a name for it. I couldn't think of one. My mind was too full of her face.

I closed the book and tucked it into a hidden drawer.

I walked to the Great Hall. The air was thick. I could smell the scent of old men and damp wool.

The Elders sat in a semi-circle. Their white beards resting on their chests.

They were whispering. The moment my boots clicked on the stone. The room went silent.

I climbed the dais. I sat on the throne of bone. I did not speak. I let the silence stretch until they shifted in their seats.

"Speak." I commanded.

Elder Hrothgar stood up. He leaned on a gnarled staff.

"Your Majesty. The pack of Blackwood Kingdom is whispering. They say their Alpha is no longer focused on the borders. They say he chases a ghost. To involve yourself with a spirit is a taboo, Alpha. It invites doom to our crops and our blood."

He stepped forward. His eyes milky with age.

"The law is clear. The Alpha must be involved with a woman of his class. Lady Elara is of noble blood. She is fit for your bed. This... nobody... this cook uses tricks. She uses strange potions to confuse your mind. She must be removed."

Rage flared in my gut. I felt my claws grow. But beneath the rage, there was a strange spark of joy. They were afraid of her. They saw her power.

"Remove her?" I asked.

My voice was dangerously low.

"When did the pack begin to question the authority of the Alpha King? When did the Elders decide who enters my kitchen or my bed?"

"We speak for the safety of the pack..." Elder Hrothgar said

"You speak for your own fear!" I interrupted him.

I stood up. My presence filling the hall.

"You come here to tell me I am confused? I am the Alpha! I see everything. I see who put these words in your mouths."

I knew this was Elara's work. She had whispered in their ears. She had used the Elders to do her dirty work. She knew I wouldn't listen to her.

"This meeting is dismissed." I snapped.

I walked down the steps of the dais.

"Return to your homes. Come back when you have something better to say. Not the gossip of a jealous woman. If I hear another word of this. I will find the source and I will silence it permanently."