Bound To the Cruel Alpha

Chapter Eighteen

Kaelen

Kaelen would not admit it to anyone, not even to herself on most days, but she was bored. Life inside the fortress could be heavy, serious, full of meetings, few tea parties, and grim reports about the borders. Very little held her attention for long these days. Which was why she had thrown herself into the task of preparing a room for the rogue like it was the most exciting project in the world.

She chose the smallest room in the west wing. No one had stepped into this particular room in decades. It was locked up for a reason, but even her couldn't remember why. Dust covered the walls so thick it looked like gray cloth, and the air was heavy, stale, and old. Kaelen had tied up her skirts to keep them from dragging and was already pointing at things for servants to scrub.

“New sheets, please,” she said in her quick voice, tapping her finger against the frame of the bed. “I want neutral colors, nothing dark. Get new curtains too. Oof! That mirror is ugly, I want it out. And dust this cupboard again, do you not see the streaks still on it? Dust it twice, if you must. It has to shine.”

A maids gave a chorus of “yes, my lady,” and got to work immediately.

Kaelen moved around the room in fast steps, her braid bouncing against her back. She stopped at the window and tapped her chin. “Bars. I want bars fitted here. Strong ones. We cannot have her escaping. Not that she could, not from here, but still. Bars.”

Behind her, one of the younger servants muttered something under his breath about whether rogues could even climb walls. Kaelen did not bother to correct him. She had her eye on a bigger plan.

She turned, clapping her hands once. “And I want a small shelf brought in. A proper one, not a crooked old one. I'm envisioning a mini library. Do not laugh, I am serious. She will need books. I only hope she can read. Can rogues read?” She glanced around, but no one dared answer. “Well, she will learn then.”

She was still rattling out orders when the door creaked and Corren leaned his head inside. His hair was a mess as usual, his shirt untucked.

“Uh,” he said, blinking at the dust and noise. “What is going on here?”

Kaelen smiled too sweetly. “This is the rogue’s new quarters.”

Corren stepped all the way in, frowning. “Why?”

“Because I said so,” she replied, turning her back on him and smoothing a patch of curtain fabric with her hand.

“Does Draven know?”

“Yes.” She did not even look at him as she said it.

Corren made a sound, somewhere between disbelief and resignation. “Oh. Okay. Uh… good luck then.”

It was plain he was not pleased, but Kaelen only waved him off as if he were a bothersome fly.

She clapped again. “You there, the carpenter. This door will not do. It must be changed. Or, better still, cut a hole here.” She crouched a little, pointing at the bottom corner of the door. “A small one, enough for trays of food to pass through. That way we do not have to open it each time.”

The carpenter scratched his beard. “I can do that, my lady. I can have it ready in two days.”

Kaelen tilted her head. “Of course not. That will not do at all. It will be ready tomorrow. You will make it so. We are on a schedule.”

“Of course, my lady,” he echoed quickly.

Satisfied, she straightened. Her eyes landed on a maid smoothing out a gown she had found in the wardrobe. Kaelen pointed. “You. Carry that gown and follow me.”

The girl hesitated, clutching the dress as if unsure what was happening, but Kaelen was already striding out into the corridor.

Her slippers tapped against the stone floor as she led the way down the staircase, into the busier part of the fortress. She headed straight to the second-floor kitchen. The air grew warmer as they approached, the scent of bread and roasting meat floating toward them.

When she entered, the bustle of servants paused just enough to bow their heads. Kaelen smiled, not unkindly. She enjoyed the way the kitchen always smelled alive.

“Can I have a tray, please?” she asked.

A cook hurried forward with a platter, but before he could set it in her hands, two younger servants rushed up. “Let us help you, my lady,” they said. “You should not carry it yourself.”

Kaelen pouted in mock annoyance. “You always ruin my fun.” Still, she handed the tray off to one of them.

She walked along the counters, pointing at things as she saw them. “Add grapes. Yes, that bunch. Is that a peach pie? You did not add that to my breakfast.”

The cooks chuckled as she sulked, and crossed her arms. “You never give me the good things. Always plain bread and eggs.”

“You did not ask for pie, my lady,” one teased gently.

“I should not have to ask.” Kaelen said, her lower lip pushed out. Then, laughing at herself, she leaned over and stole a slice. The crust crumbled under her fingers and she licked the sugar from her thumb.

“Add it to the tray,” she ordered, half through her mouthful. “And more bread, and more cheese. Do not be stingy. A jar of water too. She has to drink.”

When the tray was loaded to her liking, she dusted her hands and gestured to another servant. “You. Pick it up and follow me.”

The gown was still clutched tightly by the other girl. Kaelen smiled at them both. “Come along. We are going to the dungeon.”

She did not speak to any of the guards when they descended into the dim corridors. She did not need to. Two of them fell into step behind her without being asked, their boots loud against the stone. She kept her eyes forward, chin high. She was down here yesterday. She knew exactly where the rogue was held.

When they reached the cell, Kaelen stopped short. The smell of sweat filled the air. Her frown deepened. She had told them not to chain the rogue, but there she was, her wrists locked to each other.

Kaelen said nothing, though a flicker of irritation crossed her face.

The rogue was awake, head leaned back against the wall, eyes half closed as if listening to something far away.

“Hello again,” Kaelen said brightly.

There was no answer. The guard opened the cell.

Kaelen waved her hand at the servants. “Put the tray on the bed. Hand her the gown.”

The servants exchanged nervous looks, clearly wary of stepping too close. Still, they obeyed, setting the tray down gently and holding out the dress like it might bite.

“Thank you,” the rogue whispered, not looking at them. Not even looking at Kaelen.

Kaelen clapped her hands once. “So. What is your name?”

The rogue’s lips curved the slightest bit. “You should ask your brother.”

Kaelen’s face fell. She blinked, then tried to smile again though it looked strained. “Well… we are cleaning up your new quarters in the west wing. You will be out of here in no time.”

The rogue’s eyes moved to the gown, fingers twitching against her chains. “But I will still be locked up.”

Her voice was flat, without hope.

Kaelen bit the inside of her cheek. She hated the heaviness of it. “You see,” she said quickly, “you will have a real bed. A soft mattress. Hot water, a change of clothes. All of it will be yours. Also—”

“I had all that before I met your brother.”

The words cut clean.

One of the guards growled. “Show respect, you are speaking to the Lady—”

Kaelen lifted her hand sharply, silencing him. She forced a bright tone. “Can you unchain her so she can eat?”

“No need,” the rogue said before the guard could answer. “This has become quite comfortable.” Her head turned away from them, as if the wall was more interesting than Kaelen’s face.

Kaelen’s mouth opened, then closed. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. She had imagined some spark of gratitude, or even anger. Not this tired, defeated calm.

She stood there for a long breath, then finally turned on her heel. “Come,” she told the servants.

The guard locked the cell behind them as they left. Kaelen exhaled hard as they walked down the corridor, eager to leave the heavy air of the dungeon behind.

At the end of the passage, she saw soldiers shoveling mud into two wheelbarrows. She wrinkled her nose. “What is that for?”

One of them looked up at her, grinning with a face streaked in dirt. “For the pit, my lady. Tonight is the full moon.”

He said it like she was supposed to understand, his grin wide and careless.

Kaelen forced a nod, though her mind was already drifting back to her project upstairs. She was happy to be leaving the dungeon. There were curtains to choose, rugs to order, and a shelf to fill with books. That was work she could control. Work that kept the boredom away.