The Voice

CHAPTER 4

ISOLDE’S POV

The room they gave me was at the very back of the servants’ quarters. It was small, cold, and smelled like old dust.

Because Rhaelen had told his Beta to put me wherever they wanted, the head butler and the house servants assumed the King had already completely abandoned me. 

I had not completed the official Luna ceremony, and I did not bear the Alpha’s mark. To them, I was not royalty. I was just an unwanted stranger left behind in a foreign palace.

I sat on the edge of the narrow cot, holding the small communication stone I had brought from my old room. I tapped the surface and waited until the faint blue light turned solid.

"Isolde," Caeldric’s cold voice came through the stone. "Why are you calling? Is the wedding finished?"

"The ceremony ended hours ago," I said, keeping my tone steady. "Your pack left before the ink on the documents was even dry. I am calling about our agreement, Caeldric. Transfer my parents' inheritance to my name and send the final release papers, just like you promised."

A harsh chuckle sounded from the other side.

"You think your task is finished just because you stood at an altar?" Caeldric asked, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

"Listen to me carefully, Isolde. You must become the Alpha King’s woman first. You need to make sure he does not hold a grudge against our pack or send his armies to our border. Until we are completely sure he will not attack us, your debt is not paid. You will get nothing until then."

The connection cut off before I could reply.

I stared at the dull stone in my hand, my fingers tightening around the cold surface. They had lied to me again. I took a slow breath, forcing the anger down into my chest. I was not going to give up. 

My parents had built that estate with their own hard work, and I was going to get it back. If I needed to secure my place in this palace to make that happen, then I would find a way to meet the Alpha King face to face and settle this myself.

A loud knock sounded at my door, and it pushed open without my permission.

Two female servants stepped inside, looking down their noses at me with total contempt. They knew I was only a replacement bride and a sacrifice sent by a weak pack.

"The head butler says you cannot keep these," the taller servant said, stepping over to my bed and grabbing my leather traveling bag.

The second servant picked up the fine white dress I had worn during the journey. "A simple servant girl has no use for expensive silk and leather. You will wear plain tunics like the rest of us."

"That is my personal property," I said quietly, standing up.

"It belongs to the palace now," the taller one sneered, tossing my bag over her shoulder. "Since you have no wolf and no rank here, you will earn your keep. Get up. There are dirty floors in the main corridor that need scrubbing."

I did not argue with them. Fighting over clothes and bags would accomplish nothing right now, and I needed to keep a low profile until I understood how this fortress operated. 

I put on the rough gray tunic they left on the wooden stool and followed them out into the hallway.

As the day went on, I learned that King Rhaelen had never kept permanent personal servants. 

The people who were sent to serve him in the past were either severely injured during his violent fits, scared away by his dark temper, or killed on bad days. None of the older servants wanted to go anywhere near the King's private wing.

When the sun began to set, the head butler walked into the kitchen carrying a small tray. On the tray sat a silver bowl of hot soup and a dark glass bottle containing a thick, bitter-smelling liquid.

"Who is going to take the King's evening meal and medicine up to the tower?" the butler asked, looking around the room.

Every servant immediately lowered their head, stepping backward toward the shadow of the pantry. No one spoke. No one offered to take the tray.

The taller servant who had taken my bag earlier stepped forward, pointing her finger directly at me. "Send the new girl. She is useless down here anyway."

The butler turned his stern eyes onto me. He looked at my plain gray dress, then down at the tray in his hands. "Take this to the top floor of the eastern tower. Do not speak unless he speaks to you, and leave the moment you set the tray down."

I picked up the heavy tray, feeling the heat of the soup through the wood. This was the opportunity I had been looking for.

I walked up the long, winding stone staircase that led to the private chambers. The air became colder and heavier with every step I took. 

Two large guards stood outside the grand double doors, but they stepped aside without a word when they saw the food tray in my hands.

I pushed the heavy door open with my shoulder and stepped inside.

The room was large and dimly lit by a few candles burning near the stone fireplace. Rhaelen was sitting in a tall leather chair by the desk, his dark coat off, leaving him in a plain linen shirt.

This was the first time I had seen him up close without the heavy wedding veil covering my eyes. His jaw was sharp and set in a hard line, his shoulders broad, and his dark eyes burned with an intense, dangerous light.

He did not recognize me. To him, I was just another nameless servant girl brought in to drop off his evening meal.

"Put the things down and leave immediately," he growled without even looking up from his papers. His voice was rough, like stones grinding together.

"Yes, Your Majesty," I murmured softly, walking closer to the large desk.

As I set the wooden tray down next to his arm, the strange, faint voice appeared in my head again. It was much clearer and louder than it had been the night before.

It burns, the voice screamed inside my mind, sharp and full of rage. The silver powder in the drink burns my stomach. They are poisoning us again. Kill them. Rip their throats out. Kill everyone.

I froze, my hand resting on the edge of the tray. I looked down at the dark glass bottle containing his medicine. My heart began to pound against my ribs.

The voice in my head was describing the exact physical reaction Rhaelen was having right now. 

I could see the thick veins standing out on his neck, his hands trembling slightly as he fought against a sudden wave of intense pain. 

But the voice did not sound human. It was wild, furious, and filled with a deep, animal instinct.

Rhaelen was close to losing control. His breathing was heavy and ragged, and the dark energy rolling off his body made the hair on my arms stand up. 

I remembered the blood-stained stretchers I had seen being carried away near the courtyard earlier, and my stomach twisted with real fear. He could snap my neck before I even had the chance to scream.

I took a slow step backward, intending to leave the room just as the butler had ordered. But my eyes lingered on his pained expression for a moment too long.

Rhaelen’s head snapped up. His dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a dangerous, golden light that did not look human at all.

"Why are you staring at me?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a low, deadly threat. "I told you to leave."

Inside my head, the wild voice screamed even louder, shaking my entire mind.

…Kill her. Tear her apart. It hurts so much. Kill them all…

I gasped softly, my hands trembling as the truth suddenly hit me. The voice in my head was not an imagination.

It was the voice of Rhaelen’s wolf.