Betrothed To The Ruthless Alpha

Chapter two;Dinner with the alphas

The dining hall was huge, too huge, with only six chairs set out at a table built for thirty.

I'd been married six hours. The ache in my chest still hadn't fully settled — quieter than at the wedding, but still there, a low hum under everything, like my body hadn't decided yet what it thought of the new bond forming beside the old one.

"You'll sit next to Raulph," Dregor said. I sat. Raulph didn't look at me.

Parker walked in next, and the room got colder. "So this is her," he said, not really to anyone. "The peace treaty."

"Parker." Dregor's voice held a warning.

Phiona came in right after, beautiful and sharp. She sat, turned to me, smiled like it was warm. "Evelyn. We've heard so much."

"Good things, I hope."

"Mostly." Her smile didn't move. "Tell me — is it true Crimson doesn't have its own war college? I heard your border guards train with old Frevnent weapons. Must be embarrassing, needing someone else's steel."

The table went quiet.

"We do use Frevnent steel," I said. "Funny — I heard you needed a Silver Moon last name before anyone took you seriously. Must be embarrassing, needing someone else's bloodline just to matter."

Something flickered across her face. Surprise, mostly.

"She's got teeth," Parker said, almost entertained.

"Watch it, brother," Scott said, dropping into his chair. "Keep looking at her like that and Raulph's going to think you're jealous."

"Jealous of what," Parker said. "A Crimson girl with a sharp tongue?"

"Jealous that your wife just got outmatched at her own game," Scott said cheerfully, pouring himself some wine like he hadn't just said something reckless out loud. He turned to me, grinning. "For what it's worth, the rumors undersold you. They said angelic eyes. Didn't mention the temper that comes with them."

"Scott." Raulph's voice, warning.

"I'm complimenting your wife. It's practically a public service." Scott lifted his glass toward me. "To the first interesting thing that's happened at this table in years."

I didn't drink to it. I wasn't sure yet whether his kindness was real or just another performance, dressed up softer than his brother's cruelty. But it was, at least, the first time all night someone had looked at me like I wasn't a problem to be managed.

Phiona tried again, sweeter this time. "It really is impressive, how fast you've adjusted. Girls from lower packs usually struggle so much with our customs. I do hope Raulph's patient, marrying so far above your station."

"Enough."

Raulph's voice cut across the table, quiet but absolute. "You've been part of this family two years, Phiona, and you still use your father's title instead of my brother's name. If we're talking refinement tonight, start there."

Silence. Phiona's mouth opened, closed. Parker's jaw tightened — not defending his wife, I noticed. Just absorbing it.

I felt something strange happen in my chest right then — the ache easing, just slightly, right as Raulph spoke up for me. Not gone. Just quieter, like the bond recognized the act even if neither of us understood what it meant yet. I glanced at him. He wasn't looking at me. But his jaw was tight in a way that told me it had cost him something to say it out loud, in front of his whole family, in front of Phiona's husband.

Dinner moved on, careful and stiff. But Phiona didn't forget. I caught her watching Raulph for the rest of the meal, something calculating behind her eyes that hadn't been there before — like she was filing away exactly how much defending me had mattered to him, and deciding what to do with that information.

She found me alone after dinner, in the hallway outside my room.

"That was a mistake," she said, quiet enough that no one else could hear.

"What was?"

"Making him choose you over me tonight." Her voice had lost all its earlier sweetness. "Parker doesn't forget things like that. Neither do I. You should know, Evelyn, that whatever this marriage is turning into, I intend to make it very difficult for both of you."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise." She smiled, thin and cold. "Raulph just showed this whole family exactly how much you matter to him. That's dangerous information to hand people who already don't want you here."

"Why do you care so much?" I asked. "You're married to Parker. Whatever's happening with Raulph isn't your marriage to protect."

Something flickered across her face, quick and unguarded before she smoothed it back over. "Parker doesn't defend me like that," she said. "Not once, not in two years. I'd have remembered." Her voice had lost its edge for just a moment, something almost raw underneath it. Then it was gone, replaced by the same cold smile as before. "Don't mistake that for sympathy, Evelyn. I still intend to make this difficult for you."

She left before I could answer, and I stood there a long moment in the empty hallway, turning that flash of honesty over in my mind. Whatever was wrong in Phiona's own marriage, it wasn't my problem to solve. But it explained something about the sharpness in her, a bitterness that had clearly been building long before I ever arrived at Silver Moon.

My hand found its way to my chest without me quite deciding to put it there. The ache shifted again — not gone, never gone, but tangled now with something new. Fear, maybe. Or the first real understanding that Raulph's small kindness at dinner hadn't been free. It had cost him something with his brother's wife, and it was about to cost me too.

I thought about going to find him, telling him what Phiona had said, watching his face to see if he'd shrug it off the way he seemed to shrug off everything, or if some part of him would actually worry. I decided against it. Whatever this fragile thing between us was becoming, I wasn't ready to hand him my fear on top of everything else I'd already given away today.

I didn't know yet how much tonight would cost either of us. I only knew, standing alone in that cold hallway with my hand pressed over an ache that refused to make sense, that nothing in this house came without a price attached. Not kindness. Not honesty. Not even the strange, unwanted comfort of being defended by a man I still wasn't sure I could trust.