Claimed By The Tyrant King

At Calder’s home, the caretaker moved toward the door after hearing a knock. She had expected to see Viscount Calder, already preparing her words. "Sir, you forgot your..." Her voice trailed off the moment the door opened to reveal a young woman instead, her smile bright and untroubled, as if nothing in the world weighed on her.

Then her gaze shifted past her to the man standing just behind, and she paused again. There was something about him that seemed compelling even in a servant’s uniform. Behind them, two guards stood with grim expressions, watching silently.

"Hello, Mallory," Rosalind greeted warmly.

"Miss Rosalind." The caretaker blinked, snapping out of her surprise before her face softened into a smile. "You’re welcome." She stepped aside at once, allowing Rosalind to enter.

"How is Mother?" Rosalind asked immediately as she walked inside. Rowan followed quietly behind her, the door closing as the guards remained outside.

"She’s doing better," Mallory replied, turning to lead the way further into the house.

Rosalind moved ahead without hesitation, but then paused and glanced back at Rowan, who had remained standing near the entrance. "You can sit,"

Rowan caught the lightness in her expression, the way her happiness lingered so openly didn’t escape him. He had noticed it since yesterday. Even now, he found it difficult to believe the king had allowed her to visit her parents. Alaric must truly intend to win her over. Meanwhile, Rosalind had spent the entire journey wishing the carriage would move faster, eager to arrive.

"There’s no need, my lady" Rowan said calmly.

Before she could respond further, Mallory returned, carefully guiding a wheelchair into the room. She had already helped the woman into it, as she could not do so on her own.

"Rosalind..." her mother whispered, her voice soft and strained as her trembling fingers reached forward.

Rosalind’s eyes filled at once. She rushed to her, dropping into a crouch and wrapping her arms around her mother without hesitation.

Gently, she took her trembling hand and pressed it against her cheek to ground herself in the familiar warmth. Her mother’s other hand lifted slowly, her fingers shaking as she placed it against Rosalind’s head.

"Mother... I’ve missed you so much," Rosalind said, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Her mother nodded slowly. "Same... same," she managed, her words coming with effort, and Rosalind leaned further into her touch.

"I heard you’re getting better now?" Rosalind asked softly, pulling back just enough to look at her.

The woman nodded again, and that alone filled Rosalind with relief. Mallory watched the exchange with a quiet smile as mother and daughter spoke, their voices low but full, making up for lost time.

Rowan, however, watched Rosalind moved about with a kind of warmth he hadn’t seen before.

When Mallory returned with the herbal medicine, Rosalind took the cup from her without hesitation. She blew on it gently before bringing it to her mother’s lips carefully.

"I’ve missed taking care of you like this," Rosalind said quietly. "I worry about you all the time."

Mallory spoke up then. "There’s no need to worry, Lady Rosalind. I’m here to take care of her."

Rosalind’s mother nodded in agreement. Mallory had been diligent in her work, keeping her clean, tending to her needs, making sure she ate and took her medicine, and helping her through each day.

"There’s no need to worry... I’ll be fine," the woman said after a pause.

"Don’t say that, Mother," Rosalind replied gently. "If I don’t worry about you, then what kind of daughter would I be?" She reached up to wipe the corner of her mother’s lips before smiling softly. "And you’re right. You will get better. You’ll be healthy again."

She handed the empty bowl back to Mallory, who took it away to be cleaned.

Beth watched her daughter with a smile, her chest filling with something close to gratitude. Rosalind had always been kind, always thoughtful, and seeing her now only made her realize how fortunate she was. There were so many things she wanted to say, but her body held her back, limiting her words.

Her gaze lifted then, settling on the man standing quietly at the far end of the room.

After a moment, she looked back at Rosalind.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"Oh" Rosalind blinked as she had almost forgotten. "That’s Rowan," she said. "A friend."

A friend?

Rowan’s brows drew arched slightly at the word. He didn’t want to be her friend.

But Rosalind had chosen her words carefully. She wasn’t about to introduce him as her footman in front of her mother.

"You know," she continued lightly, "on my birthday, he brought me strawberry cake. It was really good." She smiled as she said it.

Beth shifted her gaze to Rowan, and he immediately straightened, his expression settling into something neutral as he bowed his head respectfully toward her.

"Good man," she said with a faint smile, clearly pleased by his manners, before turning back to Rosalind. "I’m sorry I’m not able to bake for you anymore," she added, reaching out again to touch her daughter.

Rosalind shook her head at once, her expression soft. "You don’t have to apologize, Mother. Like I said, it was very nice. I didn’t even notice the difference." She smiled, hoping to ease the woman’s worry and reassure her that nothing was lacking. But there was difference, her mother made the best cakes in the world.

Time passed quietly as Rosalind remained at home with her mother. No word had come calling her back to the palace yet, and she intended to make the most of every moment she had.

Of all the things Alaric had done, this was the one that truly reached her. There was nothing more comforting than the familiar air of home and the people she had grown up around.

****

Calder returned later that day, his brows drawing together the moment he spotted the royal carriage stationed outside his home.

Word must have spread quickly as a few curious neighbors lingered nearby, clearly drawn by the sight. As he stepped down from his own carriage and approached, his eyes briefly met those of the palace guards, and they exchanged curt bows before he reached the door.

What is going on? he wondered.

When the door opened, his gaze fell not on his family, but on a man standing inside.

Rowan.

Calder’s expression hardened immediately. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp and unwelcoming as he looked as Rowan with suspicion.

He didn’t even remember he had seen Rowan once at the ball. "And what are you doing in my house?" he pressed again.

Rowan said nothing. Instead, he stepped aside without a word, allowing Calder to enter.

Before Calder could say anything further, Rosalind had already risen to her feet, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "He came with me, Father," she said firmly. "So don’t speak to him however you like."

"Rosalind..." Calder’s attention shifted to her, then back to Rowan, his expression easing slightly with realization. "Ah, I see. One of the palace guards, then."

Rosalind frowned at the assumption. Without wasting another moment, Calder moved further into the house, his gaze settling on his wife. She looked at him with quiet disapproval, and he paused before turning back to Rosalind.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"It’s not like you care," Rosalind replied flatly.

"Alright then," he said with a dismissive shrug.

Her lips parted slightly in disbelief as she watched him walk past her without another word. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his wife’s head, and Rosalind fell silent.

For all his faults, at least he treated her mother with care, especially now when she needed it most.

"The king must be treating you well," Calder said after a moment, glancing back at her. "Seeing as you’re able to come home like this."

Rosalind forced herself not to roll her eyes.

"He’s doing you a great favor," he continued. "You’d do well not to forget that. Be grateful to him." Then as if remembering something, he stepped closer, taking hold of Rosalind’s arm before guiding her toward a quieter corner.

Rosalind yanked her arm free the moment they stopped. Calder’s tone shifted immediately, softening into something almost gentle. "Rosalind," he said, and the change alone made her wary. She knew that tone. It never meant anything good.

"You should make use of this opportunity," he continued smoothly. "The king clearly favors you. He’s already doing so much."

"So?" Rosalind asked, folding her arms again, unimpressed.

"You should ask him to extend more favor to our family," Calder said with a satisfied smile.

Rosalind stared at him, her expression tightening before the words slipped out. "You’re the worst father ever."