Claiming The Iron Queen

Spilled Wine

Ariselle's POV

"I am not a servant, Father," I said, my voice echoing in his study. "And I am certainly not a hostess for a man who thinks he can bark orders in my own home."

My father didn't look up from his desk.

"He is an Alpha in mourning. You are the daughter of this house. You will sit with him, you will eat, and you will discuss the terms of this transition."

"The terms are simple," I snapped. "He stays on his side of the hallway, and I stay on mine."

"Ariselle." He finally looked at me. His eyes were tired, shadowed by the loss of his friend. "He is hurting. He is trying to do right by Thorne. Just give him one night of civility. For me."

I clenched my jaw. That was the only card he could play to win. I hated that it worked.

"Fine," I said. "One dinner. But I’m not dressing up like a doll for him."

I went to my room, stripped off my sweat-stained tunic, and washed the dirt from my skin. But I didn't reach for the silk dresses hanging in the wardrobe. Instead, I pulled on my freshest set of black leather training gear. I laced the boots tight and strapped my favorite dagger to my thigh.

If he wanted a lady coming to him in a flowing dress and finely made hair, he was going to be disappointed.

When I entered the private dining room in the East Wing, Caelan was already there. He stood by the window, his back to me. He wore his formal Alpha regalia—heavy black fabric with silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs. He looked like a king carved out of shadow.

He turned when he heard my boots. His eyes traveled down my leather trousers to my boots, then back up to my face. His mouth thinned into a hard line.

"You're late," he said.

"I was busy being a warrior," I replied, pulling out a chair and dropping into it.

"I assume you managed to find the room without a map?"

Caelan sat opposite me. The table was small, far too small for the energy radiating off him.

"My father always said Ironcrest was known for its hospitality. I see he forgot to mention your lack of manners."

"My manners are reserved for guests who know their place," I said. I picked up a knife and began slicing a piece of bread with more force than necessary.

"You walked in here demanding a wife like you were ordering a new horse. You're lucky I’m even sitting here."

Caelan leaned forward, his hands resting on the table.

"I am doing what is necessary for our people. This alliance is the only thing standing between your pack and the southern invaders. You should be thanking me for showing up at all."

"Thanking you?" I laughed. I leaned in too, mirroring his posture.

"You didn't come here for the pack, Caelan. You came here because you have a guilty conscience. You’re trying to buy your way into heaven by using me to fix a relationship with a father you couldn't be bothered to talk to while he was alive."

The air in the room vanished. Caelan’s face went pale, then a dark, dangerous red. He slammed his fist onto the table. The glasses rattled, and one tipped over, red wine spilling across the white cloth like blood.

"You know nothing about my father," he hissed.

"I know enough," I said, my voice steady.

"I know you're an Alpha who thinks he can claim property to massage his own ego. You don't want a mate. You want a trophy that proves you’re a good son."

"Watch your tongue, Ariselle," he warned. His eyes were dark, his wolf pushing at the surface.

"I have killed men for saying less than that. Do not think your father’s protection makes you untouchable. I could teach you a lesson in respect that you would never forget."

"Then do it," I challenged. "Stop talking about it and show me exactly how you plan to break me."

We stared at each other across the stained table. The silence was heavy, filled with the scent of spilled wine and the sharp and our breathing.

I stood up, pushing my chair back.

"This dinner is over. I've heard enough of your threats."

I turned and walked toward the door. I got halfway there before a blur of black movement blocked my path. Caelan was suddenly in front of me, his height casting a shadow over my face.

I tried to move around him, but he stepped with me, his chest inches from my face.

"Get out of my way," I said.

He didn't move. He tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. His expression shifted for a split second—the anger faded into something raw and hungry. The mask he wore, the cold Alpha king, slipped.

"You smell like cedar," he whispered. His voice was no longer a shout; it was a low, rough growl that vibrated in my chest.

"You think you're so tough. You think you can stand against me forever."

"I know I can," I said, though my heart was suddenly hammering against my ribs.

"I could break your spirit in a week," he said, stepping even closer. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"I could claim you right here, take you back to the Nightfall pack, and make you forget you ever carried a sword."

"You'd die trying," I spat.

Caelan growled, a sound of pure frustration. He slammed his hand against the wall right next to my head. The sound echoed in the room. He leaned down, his face so close I could feel his warm breath on my lips.

"I don't want a wife to sit in my court and look pretty," he whispered fiercely.

"I want a partner who knows her place. I want someone who understands that when I speak, the world listens."

I didn't flinch or pull away. I looked him dead in the eye, my hand moving slowly up to his chest. I felt his heart thudding through the heavy fabric of his regalia—it was fast, just like mine.

I reached his neck and slowly adjusted the silver clasp of his stiff collar. I lingered there for a second, my fingers brushing against the warm skin of his throat.

"You want a partner who knows her place?" I asked softly.

He didn't move. He seemed to be holding his breath.

"Well, Alpha," I said, my voice dropping to a sharp edge. "Your 'place' is currently in my way. Move."

I saw his pupils dilate. For a moment, I thought he was going to grab me. His hand on the wall tightened until his knuckles went white.

Then, he stepped back.

I didn't wait for him to say another word. I walked past him, my shoulder brushing his arm, and headed out into the hallway.

I didn't look back, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire way to my room. My skin felt like it was on fire.