Claimed By The Tyrant King

A maid passed the corridor where Rosalind and Rowan were walking, and she bowed to Rosalind, who returned the gesture before they continued.

But Rosalind stopped abruptly when she noticed Rowan was no longer beside her. He had paused a few steps back, where the maid now stood in front of him.

Rosalind’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Uhmm..." the maid began shyly, her lashes fluttering as she avoided his direct gaze. "I just wanted to give this to you. I didn’t think there would be another chance," she said, holding out a folded paper.

Rowan looked at her with a blank expression, he seemed more distant than interested but the girl was already blushing deeply. Without a word, he took the paper from her hand. The maid immediately turned and hurried down the corridor.

He unfolded it and read quickly. His expression darkened.

Rosalind had already moved closer, a faint, mischievous curve on her lips. She watched as Rowan crumpled the paper without hesitation and tossed it aside.

Her eyes widened. "Why did you do that?" she asked at once.

Rowan didn’t answer, but his expression carried clear annoyance at whatever he had just read.

Rosalind crouched slightly to retrieve the paper. "You didn’t even hesitate," she murmured, her tone shifting into something amused as she smoothed it out. "A love letter?"

She glanced up at him again. "I hope you’re not angry at me for intruding."

"I already threw it away," he replied flatly, as if it meant nothing at all.

"Very well then." Rosalind smiled, now fully curious as she unfolded it properly. Interesting. It was indeed a love letter.

Dear Rowan,

I’ve been gathering my courage for a while now to speak to you, but each time I try, I fail because you don’t seem approachable and you rarely speak or engage with anyone. I have been watching you for some time now, and I’ve realised that I have fallen for you. I wonder what you think about me. I also heard about what happened yesterday, that you were punished in the pit. I hope you’re alright and the palace hasn’t been too hard on you. I hope you’ll write back. I will be waiting for your response.

Yours truly, Lily.

"My own footman... Rowan?" Rosalind thought before she could stop herself. Her brows lifted as she finished reading.

Rowan watched her carefully, trying to read her expression, but it gave away nothing clear enough for him to understand what she was thinking.

Rosalind’s lips curved slightly. "So... what do you think?"

"What is there to think about?" Rowan replied immediately, then paused as if realizing he had spoken too freely.

Rosalind tilted her head, amused. "Don’t be so cold. I know behind all that... appearance, you’re not actually that bad. That’s probably why Lily likes you. So... will you write back?"

"What do you think, my lady?" he asked instead.

Rosalind blinked. "Me?" She pointed lightly at herself. "Well, I think you should reply. She’s clearly expecting an answer."

Rowan’s jaw tightened slightly, though he said nothing. That was not the answer he had expected and for some reasons her answer irritated him.

"Your classes are waiting, my lady," he said instead, his tone turning formal again.

Rosalind looked him over slowly, as if studying him. "You’re just shy," she concluded with certainty. "I can help you write it if you want. I don’t think you know what to say anyway."

"Lady Evelina will be displeased if you’re late again," Rowan reminded her.

Rosalind raised a hand dismissively as she turned away. "Yes, yes..."

She began walking slowly, glancing back at him. "Rowan... how many letters do you get like this in a day?"

He didn’t answer immediately. There were quite a few, actually. Most of them left in his quarters or slipped into places he did not bother to acknowledge. Compliments, confessions, curiosity and most of them were meaningless. He had never responded to any of them, nor had he cared enough to.

But today, one had been bold enough to hand it directly to him.

Rosalind glanced back again when he didn’t respond. "I see now. You really are shy."

They continued walking, but Rowan’s expression had tightened.

When they finally reached the class, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Every head turned toward Rosalind at once.

Lady Evelina’s gaze darkened. "What did I say about being late, Rosalind?" she demanded before Rosalind could even speak.

Rosalind bowed her head slightly, but Lady Evelina’s gaze only hardened, and just as she lifted her head, the woman’s voice cut through again, informing her that the king had requested her presence and that she would not be attending the lesson.

Rosalind’s brows creased at that. Was he now stopping her from attending the very class he had insisted she take in the first place.

She bowed again and turned to leave, already bracing herself to face him.

****

Alaric’s smirk widened the moment his eyes landed on her, and he noted immediately that she did not look pleased, though that did not concern him in the slightest because, from now on, he intended to prove that even someone like her could be made to feel something for him.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," Rosalind said as she curtsied before him.

Alaric gestured for her to sit beside him, but she hesitated before speaking instead. "I am supposed to be in class, just as you instructed"

Alaric let out a quiet chuckle and waved his hand dismissively. "I think you already know enough. The classes are unnecessary now."

Rosalind was taken aback.

If he wanted to give an excuse, he could have at least said something that made sense.

"Have breakfast with me, Rosalind," he said instead, gesturing again for her to sit as if everything about this was normal.

She hesitated, then slowly took her seat.

"I know you enjoy food," he continued, glancing over the spread before looking back at her. "I had the kitchen prepare different delicacies so you could enjoy yourself. What do you think?"

Rosalind’s gaze moved across the table. The food looked well prepared and smelled inviting, and there was a wide variety laid out before them, but she did not feel hungry.

She forced a small smile anyway. "It looks great."

Alaric watched her expression without saying anything for a moment before he leaned slightly forward and began eating. "You do not mean that. You’re not interested in it"

"That is not..."

"Fetch the cook," he said, cutting her off without raising his voice.

Rosalind’s heart skipped at that, her stomach tightening almost immediately.

"Your Majesty," she said quickly, turning toward him, "are you angry?"

Alaric looked at her as he finished chewing, then gave a smile that did nothing to reassure her. "Absolutely not."

But Rosalind did not believe him, and the unease remained as she picked up her utensils and began to eat, forcing herself to take small bites while the silence between them stretched, broken only by the faint ticking echoing through the hall.

Not long after, footsteps approached, and the cook was brought in, trembling as he bowed deeply. "You requested for me, Your Majesty," he said.

"The lady here said the food wasn’t good" Alaric said casually, lifting his cup of wine.

Rosalind’s eyes widened at once. She had never said that.

"How do you think we should correct that?" Alaric added, still calm.

The cook turned to Rosalind immediately, panic clear in his expression. "My lady, please tell me what you would like. I will prepare anything for you."

There was urgency in his voice now, and Rosalind could hear it clearly, which only made her more uneasy. She took a slow breath, her gaze shifting briefly to Alaric, who was watching everything with that same calm look on his face, and she could not shake the feeling that this situation could easily turn into something worse.

"Is there anything you would prefer, my lady?" the cook asked again quickly.

"Please, I will make whatever you want."

Rosalind hesitated under the pressure of it all before answering, "Strawberry cake."

Alaric’s brows lifted slightly at her answer, and he tilted his head just a little as he looked at her. "And how exactly would he make strawberry cake if he had no hands?"

Her breath caught immediately.

At the same time, the cook dropped to his knees, already trembling as he began to plead.

"Your Majesty..." Rosalind started, but he did not look at her.

"What are you waiting for?" he said to the cook instead. "She wants strawberry cake."

The cook did not hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the hall as quickly as he could, leaving Rosalind sitting there as she finally sighed in relief.

But confusion followed just as quickly, because she had truly believed something terrible was about to happen.

Alaric continued eating as if nothing had occurred, "It will be ready soon."

Rosalind lowered her gaze back to her plate and continued eating, though her appetite had already disappeared, and as she sat there, one thought settled firmly in her mind.

Whatever this was, it would not work.

No matter what he did, she could not see herself ever feeling anything for him when every moment around him left her tense and uncertain, and while he might see this as something to be achieved, she already knew there was nothing here for him to win.