Chapter 5 ~ The Taste Of Fire And Fear

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.