Banished By The Alpha King: Claimed By The Cursed Lycan Beast

Episode 3

Elara’s POV

The corridors felt longer on the way back to the servants’ quarters.

My legs shook with every step, but I kept my spine straight until the heavy oak door of the maids’ dormitory closed behind me. Only then did I let myself slump against the wall, sliding down until I sat on the cold stone floor.

My chest still ached where the bond had torn. Not the sharp, ripping pain from the hall anymore—just a deep, hollow bruise that throbbed with every heartbeat. My dress clung uncomfortably to my skin, champagne and sweat and shame all mixed together. I could still feel the ghost of Darius’s hand on my waist, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the low rumble of his voice promising things I refused to let myself imagine.

I pressed my palms to my eyes until spots danced behind my lids.

No.

I wouldn’t cry again. Not over a king who looked at me like I was dirt one second and like he wanted to devour me the next.

The dormitory was quiet. Most of the maids were still working the ball, carrying trays, refilling goblets, smiling through exhaustion. I was alone with the echo of his words.

Be my mistress.

Hidden. Discreet. No crown. Just his bed.

I laughed. A humourless, wry laugh.

My skin flushed hot at the memory of his thumb brushing my neck, the way his breath had ghosted over my ear. My body had reacted before my mind could catch up—n*****s tightening, thighs pressing together, a slick ache I hated admitting to. I’d wanted to lean into him. Just for a second. Just to feel something other than invisible.

But I’d said no.

And now the hollow in my chest felt even bigger.

I dragged myself to my narrow cot in the corner, peeled off the ruined dress, and pulled on the thin nightshift I kept folded beneath the pillow. The fabric was rough, but clean. I curled onto my side, knees to chest, trying to ignore the lingering scent of pine and storm that still clung to my hair.

Sleep didn’t come.

Instead, memories flickered—small, confusing things. Liora’s face when we were twelve, the way she’d suddenly stopped sharing secrets with me overnight. The way the pack had started looking past me like I wasn’t there. I’d always assumed it was because I hadn’t shifted yet. Wolfless. Weak. Easy to ignore.

But tonight felt different. Personal.

A soft knock startled me upright.

The door cracked open. One of the younger maids, Anya slipped inside, eyes wide.

“Elara,” she whispered. “You’re needed in the east wing. Liora sent for you. Said it’s urgent.”

My stomach twisted. “Now? The ball’s still going.”

“She said immediately.” Anya bit her lip. “She didn’t look happy.”

I nodded once, pulled my gray dress back on over the nightshift, and followed her out.

The east wing was quieter, private guest suites for visiting Alphas. Liora waited in the corridor outside one of the larger rooms, arms crossed, golden hair still perfect despite the late hour. When she saw me, her lips curved into that familiar sweet-sharp smile.

“There you are,” she said. “I was starting to think you’d run off for good after your little display.”

I kept my voice even. “What do you need, Liora?”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I felt… unwell during the toasts. Nauseous. Dizzy.” She pressed a delicate hand to her stomach. “I think something I drank didn’t agree with me.”

I frowned. “I can fetch the healer—”

“No need.” She waved a hand. “But I remembered you brought me that glass of wine earlier. The one from the special decanter.”

My blood went cold. “I didn’t. I was serving champagne. You asked for water after the first dance.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “Are you sure? Because the cup I drank from had your fingerprints all over it and your scent is strongly evident on it. And now there’s a bitter aftertaste. Almost like… nightshade.”

The word landed like a stone in my gut.

Nightshade. Poison.