The Princess and the Rogue Alphas

Chapter 3: Unmated

The tunnel was narrow and dark and smelled like him.

That scent—wood smoke and crushed pine—clung to the stone walls, seeping into my lungs with every breath. Kael's grip on my arm was iron, but he was careful. His fingers avoided the bruise Henrik's stumble had left on my shoulder.

He hadn't noticed that I noticed.

His quarters were a small chamber carved into the rock. A bedroll in the corner. A single torch. No decorations. No personal items. A room built for sleeping, not living. Like its owner had stopped being a person a long time ago.

He released me and stepped back. Fast. Like I'd burned him.

"Sit."

I sat on the bedroll. My torn wedding dress pooled around me like ruined snow. I looked up at him, waiting for orders, because that was all I knew how to do.

He hated it.

I could see it in the way his jaw clenched. The way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He was looking at me—the obedient, still, silent princess—and something behind his eyes was breaking.

"You don't fight," he said.

It wasn't a question.

"No."

"You don't beg."

"No."

"You don't even flinch properly." He dragged a hand down his face. "I put my hand on your throat and you just... closed your eyes. Like you were relieved."

I said nothing. Because he was right.

Kael started pacing. Three steps forward. Three steps back. The torchlight caught his scar, the blood still drying on his neck, the silver eyes that couldn't decide whether to devour me or run.

"You look like her," he said quietly.

My chest tightened. "Who?"

"My sister." His voice cracked on the word. He stopped pacing. Stared at the wall. "Liora. She was sixteen when your father's soldiers raided our village. Same dark hair. Same soft face. She used to hum when she was scared. Did you know that? Little songs under her breath, like if she stayed quiet enough, the world would forget she existed."

I couldn't breathe.

"I found her in the river." He turned to face me. His eyes were wet. Not crying—Kael didn't cry—but close. Dangerously close. "Your father's men used her and threw her away like garbage. And when I pulled her out, she was still humming."

The silence that followed was the loudest thing I'd ever heard.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't." The word was a blade. "Don't you dare apologize for him. That's what you do, isn't it? Absorb everyone's guilt. Smile pretty and carry the weight so no one else has to." He crouched in front of me. Close. Too close. His breath ghosted across my cheek. "I came to that bridge to kill a symbol. The King's perfect daughter. But you're not a symbol, are you? You're just another broken thing he locked in a box."

My eyes burned. No one had ever seen through me like that. No one had ever looked past the crown and the smile and the obedience to the rot underneath.

"You should hate me," I said.

"I do."

"Then why am I still alive?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes dropped to my lips. Just for a second. A flicker of something raw and desperate crossed his face before he crushed it.

"Because the moon is cruel," he said. "And I'm too weak to fight what it wants."

He stood abruptly and walked to the door.

"There's water in the corner. I'll bring food." He paused with his hand on the stone frame, not looking back. "Tomorrow, the others will want answers. About your father. About the treaty. About what you know."

"And if I don't have answers?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Silver eyes. Hard as steel.

"Then Ronan will find another use for you. And unlike me, he doesn't have a conscience left to slow him down."

He left.

The torch flickered.

I sat in the dark, alone for the first time in my life, and realized something terrible.

I wasn't afraid of the rogues.

I was afraid of how much I didn't want to leave.