Mated to the Alpha King

Esme The sky has the grey tint that indicates dawn is near, painting the hard training ground in dreamlike colors. We’ve already been out here for hours, and we’ll be here for hours yet to come. My training clothes itch, the raw white fabric scratching every time I move. I breathe heavily, trying to get myself together. Father stands to the side, his eyebrows raised, his dark eyes giving me his signature cold stare. I learned from early childhood that not pleasing him meant punishment for me and my mother, who he is keeping as a prisoner at this point to have emotional leverage over me. And although I’m 19 now, I do not have a choice on what I do, say or think. I have to do as he wants, or my mother is going to suffer the consequences of my actions. Besides, I’m just a lowly Omega he has trained to be the perfect secret in the palace where everyone has a secret or five. “Again” He says, crossing his arms. I raise the knives, my hands shaking from the effort. In front of me is my

EsmeThe kitchens of the palace are a city of their own.Firelight licks the undersides of iron pans. Steam rolls off great copper pots, a butcher’s block gleams wet beneath a cleaver. Knives flash, not as weapons but as instruments, and the rhythm of work is so relentless I forget to breathe for a few heartbeats.“Eyes forward,” Rastin murmurs. His hand grazes my elbow as if to steer, and I force myself to be air, something that moves and goes unnoticed.A man with broad shoulders and salt at his temples stands near the main hearth, watching it all with an expression that says he knows where every ingredient in this room is and where it will end up. When he turns, the noise bends around him. The staff don’t stare, exactly, but they listen without needing to be told.“Marek,” Rastin says, voice smoothed to something respectful. “New hands. From the north route.”Marek’s gaze slides over Joren and Hannah and stops on Marla long enough for her chin to lift. He doesn’t smile, but somethi