(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.
(Third Person Limited – Kael’s POV)The chamber was quiet. Candlelight flickered against the far wall, casting shadows that danced like secrets left unspoken. The night had deepened into the kind of silence Kael only ever felt safe in—curled up in the arms of someone who knew how to hold him without expecting pieces of him in return.Aaron’s chest rose beneath his cheek, steady and warm. His fingers threaded gently through Kael’s hair, slow and rhythmic. Soothing. Kael sighed and shifted closer, his arm wrapping lazily around Aaron’s waist as if to anchor himself there.“I still don’t get how Alaric hasn’t murdered you,” Kael mumbled, voice muffled against cotton and heartbeat. “You remember how mad he used to get when you came close?”Aaron let out a soft, amused breath. “He still gives me the look sometimes. Like he’s imagining exactly how many pieces he’d have to rip me into and where to hide the body.”Kael laughed sleepily. “Only sometimes?”Aaron grinned and gave a little shrug
The corridor was silent. Heavy. Thick with something that felt older than dust and darker than rage.Alaric stood at the far end, eyes fixed on the two steel doors in front of him. His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw locked tight. No servants were allowed in this part of the palace. No guards lingered here unless summoned. This wing belonged to no one but him now. A forgotten arm of the castle, hollowed out by silence and filled with fury.Behind those doors— betrayal.He stepped toward the first.With a click, the lock unlatched. The hinges groaned. The door opened slowly.Amora.She sat upright on the lone chair in the center of the cell. Despite the plain cement walls and the iron cuffs that had bruised her wrists, she managed a look of arrogant grace. Her dress had wrinkled. Her hair had begun to unravel. But her smile held steady."You look better than I expected," she said. As if they were still nobles sharing morning tea.Alaric didn’t blink.He shut the door behind h
(Third Person Limited – Kael’s POV)The car slowed to a stop.Kael didn’t lift his head. His world was still a soft blur of aching silence, like glass fogged with breath. But even in the haze, he felt Alaric’s scent shift—warrior tense, protector firm.“Aaron,” came the low voice from the driver’s seat. “Take him to his chamber. I’ll deal with the filth.”There was no protest.Aaron simply adjusted Kael in his arms, careful not to jostle the stitches behind his ear. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice like silk across cracked porcelain.Kael didn’t respond, but his fingers tightened slightly in the prince’s shirt.Alaric opened the car door with a slam, then circled to the back. The trunk popped with a click, and the screech that followed as Casian was dragged out was not quiet. Kael’s heartbeat stuttered. He didn’t want to hear that man’s voice again. Not yet. Maybe not ever.Aaron noticed.His arms tucked tighter around him as they passed through the palace gates.“You’re safe,” he
(Third Person Limited – Alaric’s POV)The door burst open with the force of a storm.Alaric didn’t pause. Not to scan the room, not to catch his breath. He charged through the rotting lobby of the abandoned building, his eyes wild, his heart a brutal, thudding drum inside his chest.Kael. Kael. Kael.The name was a scream in his head. A pulse in his veins.Aaron was right behind him, silent and swift. Their footfalls echoed off the cracked tiles and moldy walls. Alaric didn’t need to ask where to go.He could feel him.Every inch of his soul was dragging him forward.Then—A figure turned the corner ahead of them.Amora.She froze, but Aaron didn’t. He grabbed her before she could blink, twisting her arms roughly behind her back and yanking her close to his chest. She cried out, struggling, but his grip only tightened.“Don’t say a word,” Aaron growled into her ear, his voice stripped of all affection. “You’re going to lead us to him, and if you so much as breathe the wrong way—Alaric
The West Side of Veridia, speeding towards east — (Alaric's POV)The tires screeched as the sleek black car tore through the empty highway, city lights blurring into ribbons of color. The roads weren’t built for this kind of speed. Not even royal escorts moved like this—but Alaric wasn’t driving for protocol.He was driving for his mate.His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw locked so tight it ached. His foot slammed harder on the gas with each passing second. They were covering ground like hell was chasing them, and maybe it was.“Faster and we’ll take off,” Aaron said from the passenger seat, voice strained, one hand braced against the dash. “I said east—not airborne.”“You know exactly where they took him,” Alaric growled. “So direct. Me.”Aaron exhaled, fighting the tremble in his voice. “Turn left at the next fork. Then right at the old fire tower.”Alaric glanced at him. “How the hell do you know Veridia this well? You’re not even from here.”Aaron shrugged, trying
(Alaric’s POV)I stared at him. Still angry. Still on edge. But the hate between us had shifted. Now we were two men standing in the wreckage of a shared love—for the same boy.“I will,” I said, turning toward the door. “And if he’s not back before the moon rises tomorrow…”I looked over my shoulder, fury blazing behind my eyes.“I’ll burn this kingdom from the inside out.”I didn’t wait for a response. I turned, steps thunderous toward the exit.But behind me, a bitter, hollow laugh slipped through the thick tension.“Just when I hoped I’d see the imperfections in you,” Aaron said, voice strained, wounded. “Any sign at all that you weren’t worthy of him. That you didn’t deserve him.”I froze.Aaron wasn’t smiling. He stood there with red eyes, bruises darkening his cheekbones, and a grief he hadn’t earned pressing down on his shoulders like guilt. His voice cracked on the next line.“But the one-sided love never wins… does it?” he whispered. “It can’t beat the mutual.”Something twis