Claimed By The Tyrant King

Everyone watched as Thalia’s unconscious body was lifted onto a stretcher.

Two guards took their places at the front and back before carrying her out of the hall, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor as they marched away.

Rosalind caught one final glimpse of Thalia’s face before she disappeared from sight, but the image refused to leave her mind. The screams, the sickening smell of burnt flesh, and the sight of Thalia’s ruined hand stayed at the back of her mind like a haunting memory.

A terrible thought twisted in her stomach.

What if one day Alaric grew tired of her?

What if, he decided to hurt her the way he had hurt Thalia?

The thought made her stomach twist so badly she thought she might throw up.

After the guards left, the hall fell into silence. The women remained rooted to their spots, afraid to even shift their weight, as if the slightest wrong movement might invite the king’s wrath upon them.

At the throne, Alaric lifted a hand and rubbed at his temple.

The entire ordeal had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Yet there was something disturbingly satisfied in the stillness of his expression, something amused beneath the surface. After a moment, he straightened in his seat, his hands resting at his sides before he rose to his feet.

The tension in the hall immediately grew heavier.

Every gaze followed him as he descended the steps of the throne and made his way across the floor. His polished shoes clicked against the stone, each sound striking against Rosalind’s racing heart until he stopped directly in front of her.

Her eyes first fell to the gleam of his shoes, then the dark fall of his robe, before she slowly lifted her gaze to his face.

"You," he said.

The single word slid from his lips in a tone that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Me?

The thought barely formed before she could even process it, his hand was around her throat.

Rosalind’s eyes flew wide in shock.

[Not again]

Her fingers immediately rose to his wrist as she struggled for air, panic flaring through her chest.

Across the hall, Rowan’s brows drew together sharply as he watched the king’s hand tighten around her neck. She had done nothing... Nothing at all. Yet the madness in Alaric’s gaze had returned, as sudden and unpredictable as a storm.

Alaric yanked Rosalind closer until their faces were inches apart, his expression dark and dangerous."You had better stop getting yourself into situations like this," he said in a low, cutting voice. His eyes bore into hers, cold and unreadable. "The next time you make me worry about you, you will not like the outcome."

His words sent a chill through her.

Then, just as suddenly, he released her.

Rosalind staggered back slightly, drawing in a sharp breath as her hand flew to her neck. Her fingers trembled against her skin.

What the hell was wrong with him!?

As she looked up again, Alaric had already clasped his hands behind his back, his expression composed and almost distant. Without another word, he turned and walked past her, his face set in that same cold, unreadable mask.

Rosalind’s heart pounded violently in her chest, in rhythm with the sound of his retreating footsteps.

She could not understand this man.

Only a madman could only be understood by another madman.

How was she meant to prevent something she had never seen coming? She had not known someone intended to harm her, yet instead of understanding, he had threatened her as though she had invited it upon herself.

And just last night...

Her chest tightened at the memory.

Just last night he had kissed her, touched her, and made her feel things she did not want to name. Yet now he had looked at her with a coldness that made her skin crawl.

She hated that she could never predict which version of him she would face.

Once the king had left the hall, Sabine swept her robes behind her and strode out with her chin held high, Claire casting one last glance over her shoulder before hurrying after her like a faithful shadow.

The moment they were gone, Verity rushed to Rosalind’s side and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her face etched with concern.

Rosalind turned to look at her, but for a brief moment, hesitation flickered in her eyes.

Could she trust her?

After what had happened with Thalia, the question lingered like poison in her mind.

More than the betrayal itself, what unsettled Rosalind was how easily she had failed to see it coming. It made her feel foolish, vulnerable, and aware that this castle was filled with masks. Even concern could be fake in this place.

Still, she thought of the moments she had shared with Verity before Thalia had entered the picture, and some small part of her wanted to believe not everyone here was false.

She forced a faint smile and nodded.

"I’m fine," she said quietly.

Verity noticed the hesitation in Rosalind’s gaze and understood more than the words revealed. After what had happened, Rosalind would not trust easily again.

But Verity was not Thalia. And if she had to prove that, then she would.

****

Meanwhile, Sabine did not return directly to her chambers. Instead, she made her way toward the chapel, the soft rustle of her gown trailing behind her as Claire followed in confusion.

Inside, Sabine took a seat and clasped her hands together, lowering her head as though she was praying for herself.

Claire did the same.

The chapel was silent save for the faint crackle of candlelight.

Then Sabine slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes.

Almost as though waiting for her cue, Claire did the same.

Claire turned to look at Sabine, watching the blonde woman. "Were you scared about what happened today?" she asked in a low voice, because she herself had been frightened.

Thalia had been their friend, yet she had been hurt so badly. And after that, the king had grabbed Rosalind by the neck right in front of everyone. Claire had hardly dared to breathe until Alaric had finally left the hall, and even now, the memory of it still left her shaken.

Sabine narrowed her eyes at the question. "What is there to be scared of?" she asked, her voice firm.

The calmness in her tone was misleading, because she too had been terrified earlier... terrified that Thalia might mention her name. Thankfully, that had not happened.