STOLEN MOMENTS

(Keal's POV)

The air in the kitchens was thick with the smells of roasted meats and sugared pastries, a stark contrast to the floral sweetness I craved. Tomorrow was Prince Alaric’s thirty-first birthday, a fact hammered home by the sheer scale of the feast being prepared. Thirty-one years… a lifetime away from my meager twenty.

I hated the noise, the frantic energy, the casual shoves and insults thrown my way. "Oi, Beta-boy, watch where you're going!" Chef Barnaby bellowed, his face red, as I dodged a tray laden with miniature tarts. I mumbled an apology, heart hammering against my ribs. Pretending to be Beta was exhausting, a constant tightrope walk. One wrong step, one stray whiff of my true scent, and... I didn't want to think about it.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as rich as the fabrics adorning the palace walls. I could feel a restlessness building inside me, a need to escape the stifling atmosphere. And then I saw him. Prince Alaric, in all his regal splendor, striding purposefully through the courtyard towards the forest.

My breath hitched. He was more striking in person than in the portraits that adorned the palace walls. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, the strong set of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes. Gods, he was magnificent.

An insane impulse seized me. I had to follow him. Risk be damned.

I slipped through the shadows, weaving between the chattering servants and oblivious guards, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The forest beckoned, a dark, alluring sanctuary.

He moved with an effortless grace, his royal blue coat a splash of color against the deepening gloom. As I trailed him, keeping a respectful distance, I couldn’t help but admire how at ease he seemed away from the refined restraint of the palace. Nature suited him; it softened the rigid lines of his face, replaced the aloofness in his eyes with something… almost serene.

He stopped at a waterfall, the cascading water a silver ribbon in the moonlight. He stood there, alone, the sound of the water a soothing balm in the otherwise silent night. He removed his coat and laid it on a rock, loosening the high collar of his shirt. I watched him, hidden behind a thicket of trees, utterly captivated.

The moon goddess must truly love him to have blessed him with such perfect features. He was sculpted from starlight and shadow, a true Alpha, radiating power and authority. Everything about him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the commanding set of his jaw, screamed royalty. He was born to rule, born to be adored.

And gods, did I adore him. Hopelessly, foolishly, dangerously.

He stayed there for what felt like an eternity, simply watching the waterfall. I stayed too, hidden in the shadows, content just to breathe the same air as him. Eventually, he turned and headed back towards the palace, and I followed, my feet moving almost of their own volition.

He didn’t notice me, of course. Why would he? I was just a shadow, a nameless servant, unworthy of his attention. Still, the thought that I had been near him, had shared that moment of quiet solitude, was enough to sustain me through the rest of the night.

Returning to the kitchen was like stepping back into a pressure cooker. Chef Barnaby rounded on me immediately. "Where in the seven hells have you been? Get back to work, you lazy good-for-nothing!"

There would be consequences for my little adventure, I knew. Extra chores, harsher words, maybe even a deduction from my already meager wages. But tonight, I didn't care. Seeing the Prince, being near him… it was worth it.

By midnight, I was exhausted, my muscles aching, my head throbbing. But tonight was a night for celebration, regardless of the cost. I slipped away from the lingering feast preparations, desperate for a moment of peace with my mother.

My mother was waiting for me in her small room in the lower quarters, a flickering candle illuminating her tired face. In the center of the table sat a small, lopsided cake, baked with love and whatever ingredients she could scrounge from the kitchens.

"Happy birthday, Kael," she whispered, her voice raspy with age and worry.

"Happy birthday to me," I echoed, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. It was a ritual, this midnight celebration, a small act of defiance against the world that wanted to erase me.

I made a wish – a foolish, impossible wish for a world where I didn’t have to hide, a world where I could be myself, a world where maybe, just maybe, Prince Alaric could see me – and blew out the candle.

I spent a few precious moments nestled in my mother's arms, breathing in her familiar scent of lavender and honey. Her embrace was a haven, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, I was loved.

But duty called. The feast was far from over, and my absence would be noted. I kissed my mother's forehead, promising to return as soon as possible, and slipped back into the labyrinthine corridors of the palace.

As I navigated the throng of revelers, I wondered where Alaric was. The thought of him amidst the drunken nobles and simpering Omegas made my stomach clench. He deserved better. He deserved peace.

Following an almost magnetic pull, I found myself in the palace gardens, now deserted and bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon. And there he was. Prince Alaric, standing alone beneath a weeping willow, his features etched with a weariness that mirrored my own.

This was my chance. A foolish, reckless chance, but a chance nonetheless.

I hurried to the kitchens, my heart pounding against my ribs. I brewed a pot of chamomile tea, adding a touch of honey and a sprig of mint from the garden. It was a simple offering, but it was the best I could do.

I found him still standing beneath the willow, his gaze fixed on the moon. He looked… lonely.

Taking a deep breath, I approached him. "Your Highness?"

He turned, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Yes?"

My voice caught in my throat. "I… I made you some tea, Your Highness. I thought you might like something to… calm you."

He studied me for a moment, his gaze unnervingly intense. I lowered my eyes, afraid to meet his scrutiny. "Thank you," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "That's very kind of you."

I poured the tea into a delicate porcelain cup, my hands trembling slightly. For the first time, I forced myself to look up at him, to meet his gaze head-on. The moonlight illuminated his face, highlighting the strength of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the depth of his eyes.

He was even more breathtaking up close.

"Happy birthday, Your Highness," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He took the cup, his fingers brushing against mine. A jolt of electricity shot through me, a burning sensation that left me breathless. He didn't seem to notice.

"Thank you, Kael," he said, his voice low and husky. He knew my name. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through me. He knew my name.

He took a sip of the tea, his eyes closing for a moment. "This is… perfect," he murmured.

His words were like a caress, a sweet melody that resonated deep within my soul. I stood there, transfixed, watching him drink, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. This was it

. This was the closest I would ever get to him. This brief, stolen moment under the moonlight.

It was enough.