The Slave Who Could Tame The Alpha

CHAPTER 8

Liana pov

The heavy silence in the room was suffocating. Lord Vance stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the morning sunlight and casting a long shadow over the cramped quarters.

Casidy and her rats looked as though they might collapse through the floorboards. The colour had completely drained from Casidy’s face, leaving her pale skin looking almost translucent.

Her knuckles were stark white around my small medicine bottle, her hands trembling so violently that the glass clicked against her fingernails.

“I asked a question,” Lord Vance repeated, his tone dropping an octave. It wasn't a roar or an Alpha’s bellow, but it carried an authority that made the tiny room feel painfully small. “What is going on here?”

“L...Lord Vance…” Casidy stammered, dropping into a frantic, clumsy curtsy that nearly made her lose her footing.

“We… we were just…she was feeling unwell, My Lord! We were simply trying to help her!”

“Help her?” Lord Vance took a single step into the room. His gaze dropped to where I was curled on the cold, splintered floorboards, clutching my aching chest, gasping for air that refused to fill my lungs. Then his eyes snapped back to the bottle in Casidy’s hand.

“Is that why you are holding her medicine out of her reach while she suffocates on the floor?”

“No! My Lord, you misread the situation…!” the other maid squeaked out, her voice cracking with terror.

“Enough,” Lord Vance commanded. He didn't raise his voice, but the finality in it cut through her excuses like a blade.

He moved past them without another word, closing the distance between us in two quick strides. Dropping down to one knee, he knelt beside me on the dusty wooden floor, completely unbothered by the dirt that might ruin his fine, embroidered clothes.

Up close, he smelled of clean linen, rain, and something warm like cedar, a big contrast to the heavy, overpowering scent of pine and ashes that surrounded his terrifying brother.

“Liana, right?” he asked softly. The sharpness in his voice melted away completely, replaced by a soothing, gentle tone that felt like a warm blanket over my panicked heart. He…he knew my name?

I couldn't speak. I could only nod weakly, my hands still pressed firmly against my ribs as another sharp, stabbing pain shot through my chest.

My vision flitted between him and the dark spots blurring the edges of my sight.

Lord Vance held out his hand toward Casidy, not even turning his head to look at her. “Give it to me. Now.”

Casidy didn't hesitate this time. Scrambling forward like a frightened rabbit, she placed the small glass bottle into his outstretched palm, her fingers shaking so badly she almost dropped it.

Lord Vance quickly uncapped the medicine. The bitter, earthy scent of the dark liquid wafted into the air. He slipped one firm, warm hand behind my neck, gently lifting my head to support me.

“Here. Take it slowly,” he murmured, bringing the lip of the bottle to my mouth.

I parted my lips and swallowed the liquid, coughing slightly as the bitter taste coated my throat. Lord Vance held me steady, his thumb resting gently against the side of my neck, waiting patiently as the herbal brew began its work.

Slowly and agonisingly, the violent twisting in my chest began to unwind. The sharp, glass-like pain dulled into a faint, manageable ache, and the tight knot in my lungs loosened, allowing me to draw in a deep, full breath.

My head dropped back slightly against his supporting arm, my chest heaving as my pulse finally started to settle.

I opened my eyes fully, looking up at him from the floor. He really did look soft. Up close, his features were finely sculpted, lacking the harsh, rigid lines of the Alpha’s face. His hair looked light and touchable, like a pillow of feathers just as I had thought before, and his eyes held a genuine, unforced warmth.

Looking at him right now, holding me so carefully as if I were made of fragile glass, a strange warmth bloomed in my chest, one that had nothing to do with my medicine.

Admiration, quiet and overwhelming, swept through me. He was a lord, a prince of the pack, yet he had knelt in the dirt for a wolfless, lowborn maid.

Satisfied that my breathing had normalised, Lord Vance eased me back until I was leaning comfortably against the wooden frame of my bed. Only then did he stand up, turning his full attention back to the two trembling maids standing near the door.

His soft expression vanished, replaced by a cold disappointment that seemed to hurt worse than anger.

“To deliberately withhold medicine from a sick member of this household is not merely cruel, it is a display of malice that I will not tolerate under this roof,” Lord Vance said, his voice quiet, icy, and absolute.

“Both of you will report to Madam Mira immediately.”

Casidy gasped softly, her eyes widening in horror. “My Lord, please…!”

“You will tell her exactly what occurred here, without omitting a single detail,” Vance interrupted, his voice leaving zero room for negotiation.

“If I find out you lied or attempted to cover this up, I will personally see to it that your punishment far exceeds whatever Madam Mira deems appropriate. Am I understood?”

“Y…yes, My Lord,” Casidy sobbed, grabbing her friend's arm.

“Dismissed.”

The three maids scrambled out of the doorway so fast they nearly tripped over each other, their hurried footsteps echoing wildly down the stone hallway until silence reclaimed the servant quarters.

Lord Vance let out a quiet sigh and turned back to me. The harsh edge in his posture relaxed completely. “Are you able to stand, Liana?”

“I... I think so, My Lord,” I murmured, my voice raspy. I pushed myself up, using the bedpost for leverage. He reached out a hand to steady my elbow, holding me just enough to ensure I wouldn't fall before letting go respectfully.

“Thank you, Lord Vance,” I said, bowing my head low, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor to follow proper protocol this time. “You saved me. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come in.”

“You don't need to bow to me while you're recovering,” he said with a faint, amused hum in his voice. “Just make sure you keep your medicine close to you from now on. The palace can be a cruel place for those who show weakness.”

“I will, My Lord.”

He gave me a brief, reassuring nod before turning toward the door.

“Take a few moments to rest before you return to your duties. I'll make sure Madam Mira knows you were delayed.”

With that, he stepped out into the corridor, leaving behind the faint trace of his calm scent. I stayed there for a moment, my hand resting over my heart, watching the empty doorway. He was nothing like the Alpha.

Where the Alpha was fire and shadows, Lord Vance was sunlight and calm waters.

I took a few deep breaths, letting the last lingering traces of the medicine settle through my veins. I couldn't afford to rest for long.

Being labelled a favourite or getting special treatment from a lord would only paint a bigger target on my back than the one I already carried.

I grabbed my medicine bottle and slipped it safely deep inside the hidden inner pocket of my apron. I smoothed down my skirt and made my way out of the quarters.

The main corridors of the lower palace were usually quiet at this hour, filled only with the rhythmic sweeping of brooms or the distant clatter of pots from the kitchen. I picked up my rag and bucket, heading toward the western wing to finish my morning chores.

As I wiped down the heavy oak panelling along the hallway, my mind drifted back to the voice I had heard in my head days ago. Was it really my wolf?

The memory felt like a fever dream now. If a wolf awakens, it stays. It becomes a part of you, a second heartbeat beneath your ribs. But mine had spoken once, burning like liquid fire through my veins, and then vanished into nothingness, leaving me as wolfless and frail as I had always been.

It made no sense.

My thoughts were suddenly shattered by a loud, echoing shout from the outer courtyard.

“Get back! Everyone, move back!”

I paused with the rag in hand, frowning toward the tall arched windows at the end of the hall. The shouts multiplied, growing sharper, panicked.

“Is someone going to fetch the guard?!”

“Don't touch it!”

Curiosity and a sudden prickle of unease pulled me away from my work. I set the bucket down and hurried down the corridor toward the side doors that led out to the service courtyard, the area near the stables where goods were delivered, and horses were kept.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors and the morning chill hit my face. A large crowd of servants, grooms, and lower-ranking guards had gathered in a tight circle near the edge of the stable doors.

Whispering frantically, pushing against one another to see, their faces were pale with horror.

“What happened?” I murmured to a kitchen maid standing at the edge of the crowd, but she was too transfixed, covering her mouth with trembling hands, to answer me.

Driven by a strange, sickening tug in my gut, I squeezed my way through the crowd of servants.

“Move out of the way!” a guard barked, but the crowd was too dense, too panicked to listen.

I pushed past two tall stable hands and finally broke through to the inner circle. The ground beneath my boots was slick with something dark and wet.

My breath hitched in my throat.

Lying in the centre of the dirt courtyard, twisted at an unnatural angle against the wooden side of a water trough, was a body.

Her uniform was torn, soaked in blood that pooled around her dark hair.

Her skin was a ghastly, translucent grey, and her eyes were wide and hollow, filled with a frozen, unimaginable terror staring blankly up at the grey morning sky.

It was Flora.

The girl Madam Mira had demoted to the stables just a few hours ago.

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd as I stood frozen, my heart pounding violently against my ribs, staring at the deep, ragged tear across her throat that looked far too large to have been made by any ordinary animal.