Claimed By The Tyrant King

After Rosalind had chosen to keep the emerald gown, Alaric turned to the merchants and said, "Give the remaining gowns to the other mistresses and let them choose whatever catches their fancy," and at once the merchants bowed before beginning to gather the rest so they could be delivered just as he had ordered.

Even as they packed, Rosalind’s thoughts refused to leave the red dress behind, the very one Alaric had said was for after the ball, and the thought of it made something twist uneasily in her stomach as she wondered what exactly he had in mind for her. The moment he turned to look at her, she quickly pushed those thoughts aside, though the warmth lingering in her cheeks betrayed where her mind had gone, and Alaric only smirked as though he could read every single one of them.

"You should head back now, Rosalind, and continue your practice. After all, you still have to impress me with the dance," he said.

Rosalind looked at him for a moment without speaking, then gave a small bow and turned to leave, but before she could take more than a step, his voice stopped her, and she turned back with her brows drawing together without meaning to.

"I just gave you something so expensive, and you’re leaving without so much as a proper thank you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

Realising her mistake, Rosalind quickly lowered her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said at once.

"Not that." Alaric waved his hand dismissively.

Rosalind stared at him in confusion because what else did he want now? He had asked for thanks and she had thanked him, yet somehow that was still not enough. Before she could think further, he leaned closer, and Rosalind sucked in a breath and held it, her eyes widening as her fingers curled tightly at her sides.

"Kiss me, Rosalind," Alaric said.

And just like that, her heart skipped a beat.

He did not miss the flush that spread across her cheeks, and his lips curled in amusement. He had noticed that he had always been the one to initiate their kisses, and now, to him, it was time for his little rose to start doing something on her own.

"Come on, little one," he said softly.

Her eyes widened even more when he slightly puckered his lips in front of her, and her gaze dropped helplessly to them, pink and almost annoyingly inviting, and Rosalind could not help the slight lift of her brows.

For a king, he truly had too much leisure time. Didn’t he have affairs of state to attend to instead of standing here demanding kisses from her?

Her gaze shifted uneasily to the side as she wondered if anyone was watching.

The merchants, who had not yet finished packing the gowns, had gone still where they stood, but the moment Rosalind’s eyes landed on them, they immediately resumed moving as though nothing had happened.

When she turned back to Alaric, his eyes had darkened, and his gaze shifted from her face down to his lips again as though urging her forward, and realising that he clearly had no intention of letting it go unless she obeyed, Rosalind stepped closer and pressed the quickest kiss imaginable to his lips before pulling away at once as though he had burned her.

Heat rushed to her cheeks immediately, while Alaric only laughed, and the sound of it sent an unwanted flutter through her stomach that made her fists tighten until her nails bit into her palms.

The next moment, he lifted a hand and lightly ruffled her hair. "You’ll get better, Rosalind. I promise," he whispered.

But Rosalind did not want to get better... The thought came with a hidden frown.

"Run along now," he said, shooing her away, and this time she did not linger for even a second longer before hurrying out, while behind her Alaric only smiled, his mind already wandering to thoughts of what he intended to do with his little rose.

****

The mark on Rosalind’s neck was the first thing Verity noticed the moment she stepped into the practice room, and Verity’s brows immediately creased. "What happened to you?" she asked in concern, having already heard that Rosalind had gone to meet the king and had stayed in his chambers overnight until now.

Rosalind tried not to let her mind drift back to it. No, he had not simply hurt her. He had nearly killed her before changing his mind, and after that he had dared to turn gentle, kissing her and asking her to kiss him in return as though nothing had happened.

She was beginning to think Alaric’s madness was starting to affect her because she could no longer make sense of him.

One moment he was cold as ice, and the next he burned like fire, and while she feared him, whenever his hands touched her or his lips found hers, she still felt that strange flutter she could neither understand nor control.

She did not even know if what she was feeling was right.

"Verity, can I ask you something?" Rosalind asked, and Verity nodded slowly.

"Did you ever like the king? I mean... did you ever feel strange things when he touches you?" she asked.

Verity looked at her blankly, and Rosalind quickly explained herself. "I think I’m losing my mind," she admitted, confusion and panic written all over her face. "I hate him, and yet my body still responds when I don’t want it to."

"I haven’t felt that kind of feeling for the king, The only thing I have ever felt for him is hatred" Verity responded honestly. Hatred for everything he had done to her.

Never once had she felt anything sweet whenever he came close, only the dark longing to see a knife buried deep in his chest, and every time he touched her, she had hated it.

Still, she looked at Rosalind with quiet understanding. "It may happen that way, Rosalind. Maybe because you haven’t had any contact with the opposite gender until now, the feeling must be overwhelming," she said, wondering if that even made sense before adding, "Or have you?"

Rosalind shook her head quickly as embarrassment rose to her cheeks.

Her father would never have allowed such a thing because he had always been keeping her for the right moment, the moment he could hand her off for his own gain, and she herself had never exactly welcomed men either because every man that had ever approached her only seemed to want a piece of her without caring who she truly was, so she had never really had anyone.

I wonder if that is the reason, Rosalind thought inwardly.

Verity then turned on her heels and made her way toward the keyboard. "We should start practicing, Rosalind. There isn’t much time left."

Rosalind snapped out of her thoughts at once, but just before she began to dance, she noticed that Thalia was nowhere in sight, and so she asked, "Is Thalia not coming to watch today?"

"I don’t think so," Verity said, before giving her a small smile. "But we can continue on our own."

Rosalind nodded, and as Verity began to play the keyboard, the soft melody filled the room while Rosalind stepped onto the dance floor and started to move.

****

Meanwhile, in Sabine’s room, she lay on her stomach, every breath pulled painfully at the lashes across her back. Her body was still raw from the brutal whipping Alaric had ordered.

The memory remained sharp in her mind...how she had screamed, how she had tried to throw herself off the long bench the moment the whip first tore across her back, only for those wretched servants to seize her and drag her back, forcing her down and pinning her hands while the other continued to lash her mercilessly.

It had been so painful that she was certain she would not be able to sit properly for days.

And yet, in Sabine’s mind, she still believed it was Rosalind who should have suffered such punishment, not her.

She had only wanted that wench out of her man’s life, and even now, she saw no fault in Alaric. Everything, to her, was Rosalind’s doing.

Her gaze shifted coldly to Thalia, who sat on the couch nearby. "I heard from Claire that you went to teach Rosalind how to dance," Sabine said.

Thalia straightened slightly. "I didn’t think the dance she was practicing would impress the king, and because of my love for dancing, I went to show her..." She was cut off immediately.

Sabine let out a dark little chuckle. "You went to help her," she finished for her. "You should have simply let her make a fool of herself in front of Alaric so that he would make her dance till midnight."

Thalia’s fists clenched at her sides as she recalled what exactly happened to her. "I didn’t know you were capable of betraying me too, Thalia, but I should have expected nothing more from someone who is useless and does nothing but eat all day," Sabine continued through clenched teeth.

"I betrayed you?" Thalia could not help but ask, and Sabine only stared back at her with a matter of fact look.

"You’ve always been so cruel, Sabine, always so self-centred. It isn’t as though Rosalind has done anything to you, or to me, or Verity, or Claire, yet you’ve always treated all of us badly. You’ve always manipulated us, and now you’re calling me useless? I don’t think I can take this anymore."

"Then get out," Sabine snapped, glaring at her. "I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone around me. All of you are losers."

Thalia’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced at Claire, who was still tending to Sabine’s wounds as though she herself had not also been insulted.

And suddenly Thalia could not help but remember the moment she had danced for Rosalind and Verity and how, for once, she had been appreciated, while here she had always felt as though she was being reduced to nothing.

She stood up immediately. "Claire, the sooner you leave and realise you are not appreciated here, the better," she said before storming out of the room.

After she left, Sabine mockingly mimicked her tone, only to hiss sharply in pain as Claire’s hands brushed too close to the wound.

"Be gentle," Sabine hissed.

"Sorry, Sabine. I’m trying my best, but the wounds are just so deep."

"Then go and fetch the doctor instead of doing what you are not good at," she snapped.

Claire immediately left.

Even as she lay there, Sabine’s face remained twisted with annoyance, though beneath it she felt strangely relieved that the so-called losers around her were finally gone.

Now she could focus on what truly mattered... She had to find a proper way to deal with Rosalind and this time it would not be something small like framing her or trying to disgrace her. It had to be something far worse.

Something horrifying enough to make Alaric never want to touch Rosalind again.

Since he was so drawn to her, Sabine would make sure there was nothing left for him to be drawn to.

A slow, cruel thought settled in her mind as the corners of her lips curled. What better day to execute her plans than tomorrow?

The ball would be the last thing Rosalind would ever remember because by then, Rosalind would never be the same again.