CHAPTER TEN

Lyra’s pov

By midday, I was convinced the King had it out for me.

Seriously.

All the care he had shown me a week ago was a face meant to make me drop my guard so that he could make my life a living hell. Literally.

The scroll Garrick handed me—no, bestowed upon me like a cursed scroll—was impossibly long. I hadn’t even done a quarter of the tasks, and already my legs ached, my arms were sore, and my stomach was screaming for something—anything—to quiet its protests.

Scrubbing down the main hall’s stone floors? Done. Dusting every single weapon on the wall in the training room, even the ones mounted fifteen feet above ground? Mostly done. Sorting linens in the East Wing, polishing armor that no one wore anymore, fetching supplies for the omega coordinator—all checked.

But it was endless. Every time I crossed off a task, two more seemed to pop up in its place. Like the damn list was enchanted to torment me.

And I was grumbling. Loudly. Under my breath, of course.

“Bloody overgrown wolves,” I muttered as I dragged a basket of dirty laundry through the corridor. “Treating me like a maid, a mule, a bloody—”

I stopped myself when I entered the laundry chamber.

The air was thick with heat and soap, the large stone room echoing with splashes and gossip. A few girls glanced up as I entered, then immediately looked away—except one.

Tessa.

She leaned against the washbasin, arms folded, her brown curls tucked under a scarf. Her sharp, snake-like eyes fixed on me with unhidden disdain.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice sugar-laced poison. “Sleeping Beauty finally decides to grace us with her presence.”

I ignored her, dumping the basket near the washing trough.

“You sure you’re healed?” she continued, fake concern dripping off her words. “Heard you collapsed like a rag doll. Thought maybe you’d finally croaked.”

“Disappointed?” I said flatly, not looking up.

Snickers erupted from the other omegas, none daring to come closer but more than happy to throw insults from a distance.

“Not really,” Tessa said with a tight smile. “But it’s only a matter of time. You’re not one of us, you know. Just because the King hasn’t gutted you yet doesn’t mean he won’t.”

I paused.

Then forced myself to keep scrubbing.

No one touched me. That was the only upside. Mira’s death had etched a heavy stop into their cruelty. They remembered the way her neck snapped, how Ronan hadn’t even blinked. So they whispered instead. Sneered. Made their hatred known with words and glares and laughter at my expense.

Fine. I could handle that.

I delivered the King’s dishes to the kitchen next, balancing the tray carefully. My arms trembled from exhaustion, my legs dragging as I passed through the castle. Inside the kitchen, it was quiet—most had retired for the night. I placed the tray down and began rinsing the golden utensils, my fingers numb in the freezing water.

When I finally stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the moon hung high, casting cold blue light across the floor. I hadn’t eaten all day. My body felt like it was running on fumes and stubbornness.

I just needed to avoid the King. That was the only goal left.

The thought of seeing Ronan again tonight—having to stand in his presence after this nightmare of a day—made something curl tight and painful in my gut. I didn’t have the strength for it.

So, I turned down the hallway that led toward the dungeon—the slaves' quarters.

My head was down, thoughts scattered and half-focused, when I collided with a hard, unmovable wall.

Except it wasn’t a wall.

It was him.

The wolf from the forest.

The one who had pinned me down with those golden-green eyes and promised death with a growl.

I froze.

His tall form loomed over me, muscles tense beneath his tunic, his nostrils flaring slightly as he recognized me. Those same cold, merciless eyes locked onto mine, and I could see it—the fury he hadn’t gotten to unleash that day now flickering to life.

“Look what we have here,” he said, voice low and venomous.

I stumbled back, heart in my throat.

Then another voice rang out behind me, calm but commanding.

“Gamma Elias.”

I turned sharply. Garrick.

His expression was unreadable, but the sharp edge in his tone was unmistakable. Elias—the Gamma—glanced at him, jaw tightening.

He said nothing. Just moved forward, brushing past me.

Only… he didn’t just brush past.

His shoulder slammed into mine hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. I yelped and stumbled back, catching myself on the wall.

Elias leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Next time,” he whispered, “there won’t be anyone to stop me. Stay out of my sight, slave.”

And then he was gone.

The corridor was still again, but my body wasn’t. I was shaking. The cold sweat on my skin, the thunder in my chest—it all came crashing at once.

I’d forgotten.

Forgotten what I was here.

Forgotten that to these people, I was less than dirt.

I wasn’t one of them. I was prey. A reminder of a past they hated.

I stared at the ground, panic rising like bile in my throat. Stupid. You were getting comfortable. You forgot your place.

I didn’t notice the hand until it touched my arm gently.

I flinched hard.

“Hey,” Garrick said softly, holding up both hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

My breath was ragged. “I—I didn’t mean to bump into him—”

“I know.” His voice was gentle. He took a cautious step closer, his presence warm in the cold corridor. “You’re alright now. He’s gone.”

But I wasn’t alright. I was spiraling.

What if he told the King? What if next time, it was worse?

I was too exhausted to fight, too scared to pretend.

Garrick waited. He didn’t rush me, didn’t force words out of me. He just stood there, a steady presence. Slowly, painfully, my breathing began to even out.

“Have you eaten?” he asked after a long silence.

I blinked. “No.”

He frowned, tilting his head. “You keep this up, you’re going to disappear. A gust of wind might just carry you off one day.”

It was ridiculous.

But I laughed. A soft, breathless sound that escaped before I could stop it.

He looked at me then—really looked at me—and gave me that strange expression again. One I didn’t fully understand. Like I was a puzzle he was enjoying putting together.

“I like that sound,” he murmured. “Your laugh. It’s like a melody. I wouldn’t mind hearing it over and over again.”

My cheeks heated. I looked away.

He stepped beside me. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“The kitchens are locked by now,” I said quietly. “It’s fine. I’ll find something tomorrow—”

He shook his head, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Nope. I think it’s time I showed you a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” I echoed.

He winked. “Trust me. You’ve had a terrible day. Let’s change that.”

And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I did trust him.

Even when I probably shouldn’t.