An Offer From The Alpha King
1961 Words
Kaira
~
Two days had passed in a blur, while I remained in my quarters, barely moving. The fifteen lashes on my back had scabbed over, but the skin pulled tight with every breath, a constant reminder of my place. I didn’t want to anger Father further. I didn’t want to give Emma another reason to smile. So I stayed hidden, nursing my wounds and my hatred.
But hiding was not an option for long.
The door to my room burst open without warning. Emma stood there, her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. She wore a dress of black sparkling gown of expensive silk, the fabric shimmering under the hallway light, while I sat on the floor in rags.
Behind her stood two maids—girls I had grown up with when I was still labelled a princess. Girls I had shown kindness to, even when royalty spoke otherwise. Now, they looked at me with cold indifference.
“Get up,” Emma commanded. Her voice was sweet, like poisoned honey. “Uncle Victor has decided you’re useless as a guest. You’re a servant now. And servants work.”
One of the maids, a girl named Sarah, stepped forward. She didn't grab me gently. She yanked my arm, her grip bruising. “Come on, Kaira. Don't make us drag you.”
Pain shot through my shoulders, white-hot and blinding, tearing at the fresh scabs on my back. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I wouldn’t scream. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
They dragged me through the palace corridors. My bare feet slapped against the cold marble, the chill seeping into my bones. Other maids stopped to stare. Some sneered. Others looked away, ashamed. I kept my head down, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
They threw me into the kitchens.
It was a chaotic hive of steam, clattering pots, and shouting chefs. The heat hit me like a physical wall, making my head spin. The air smelled of grease and sweat.
“Start scrubbing,” Emma said, pointing to a mountain of greasy pans stacked near the sink. “And don’t stop until dinner is served. If I see you resting, I’ll tell Uncle Victor you’re lazy. We know how he deals with laziness.”
Sarah laughed, nudging me with her hip. “Better hurry, Kaira. Those pans aren't going to clean themselves. And remember—Uncle Victor hates stains.”
I didn't fight. Not because I was weak, but because common sense dictated survival.
I picked up the sponge. And scrubbed.
Hours bled into one another. My hands blistered, the skin peeling away from the harsh soap and hot water. My back screamed with every movement, the muscles spasming in protest. But I kept moving. I became a ghost in the kitchen, invisible except when Emma needed to humiliate me.
By evening the pressure in the kitchen increased. The grand dinner for the Draven Triplets and Rogue King—my father—was being prepared. Trays of delicate crystal glasses and silver platters lined in the counters.
Sarah walked past me, carrying a stack of heavy silver trays with wine glasses. She moved quickly, her eyes fixed ahead. As she passes behind me, I shifted slightly to avoid bumping into her, pressing myself into the counter to give myself space.
But she slow down.
Her elbow jerked outward, seemingly accidentally, striking the edge of the tray I was holding.
Crash.
The sound was deafening in the busy kitchen.
The tray tipped. Three crystal glass slid off, shattering on the stone floor. Shards of glass exploded outward, glittering like diamonds. Red wine splashed across my ragged dress, staining the fabric dark and wet.
Silence fell over the area. Chefs stopped chopping. Maids froze.
Sarah gasped, dropping her own trays onto a nearby table with a clatter. She brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned shock.
“Oh no!” She cried, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Kaira! Look at the mess you created!”
I stared at the broken glass at my feet. My feet hammered against my ribs. I hadn’t moved. I had pressed myself against the counter to let her pass. She had hit me, on purpose.
“I…” My voice trembled. “I was standing still, Sarah you hit my tray.”
Sarah’s face twisted into a look of innocent distress. She shook her head, fake tears already welling in her eyes—tears that looked terrifyingly real. “Don’t lie, Kaira! I saw you step out! You were the one that bumped into me. She turned to the head chef, wringing her hands. “Chef, please! It was an accident, but she… she just stepped right into my path! I tried to warn her!”
The head chef, Paul—burly man with a scarred face—glared at me. He didn’t care that I grew up here. He didn’t care that he once called me princess. All he cared about what the broken crystals on the floor.
“Look at the mess,” he growled, kicking a shard of glass towards my foot. “Such a waste. Those were some of the finest wines.”
Emma appeared out of the pantry, as if sensing the commotion, a disgusted expression etched on her face. “Kaira, you wolfless b***h. She grabbed my ponytail, yanking my head back. “Those were uncle’s heirlooms, worth a fortune. You know what? Perhaps you should clean this up with your bare hands? To remind you that there’s always a price for being clumsy.”
The other maids watched. No one spoke up for me. No one said, I saw her hit you. They looked at their shoes, while some looked at the walls. They were afraid of Emma. Afraid of losing their jobs.
You’re nothing Kaira, the voice in my head whispered. Kim would’ve fought out of this. She would have torn everyone apart. But I? I Just picked up glass.
My hands shook as I knelt on the cold floor. I began to pick up the shards. A jagged piece sliced into my thumb, drawing blood. I couldn’t stop, despite the pain. If I did, I might get whipped again.
“Faster,” Emma hissed, leaning down so only I could hear. “And remember, cousin. If you drop one more thing, I’ll make sure not only your wolf is gone, but your face will be destroyed too. Do you understand?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
By the time the kitchen staff prepared the final dishes, my hands were raw, bleeding from multiple cuts. And still, I was ordered to serve.
My hands trembled as I lifted the silver platter. It was heavy, laden with a lot of delicacies and delicate vegetables. The weight strained my injured back, sending jolts of pain up my spine. I wrapped a cloth around my bleeding thumb to hide the evidence of my unjust cause.
I walked into the dining hall, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. The air here smelled of rich wine, spiced meat, and power—power that I was beneath and food I would never be allowed to eat, except stale bread.
I moved around the table, placing dishes before Aven, Cassian, and Eryx. They didn’t look at me. To them, I was a slave. A she-wolf, barely up to their standards.
When I reached Victor, I paused. He glanced at me, his gray eyes cold and dismissive. He didn’t nod. He didn’t speak. He just waited for me to leave, his expression bored. As if I were a stain on his perfect evening.
I turned to go, my heart pounding with a mix of shame and relief. I just wanted to escape. I wanted to collapse in the dark and let the pain take me.
“Wait.”
The voice was low. Calm.
I froze. My grip on the empty tray tightened until my knuckles turned white.
It was Eryx.
He hadn’t looked at me during the meal. He had stared at his plate, pushing food around with his fork, seemingly lost in thought. But now, his golden eyes were locked on me. Not with pity. With something else. Something intense.
“Join us,” he said.
Silence fell over the table. Heavy. Suffocating. The only sound was the crackle of the fireplace.
Aven stopped mid-sip of his wine. He lowered his glass slowly, the crystal clinking softly against the wood. Cassian’s fork clattered onto his plate, the noise sharp in the quiet. Victor’s eyebrows rose, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it hardened into annoyance.
“I beg your pardon?” Aven asked. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.
Eryx didn’t blink. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but commanding. “She is family. Is she not? Your late wife's niece, Victor. It seems rude to make her serve us like a common maid when she is actually blood-related.”
Emma, seated close to Victor, let out a scoff. It was loud, disrespectful. “She’s not family, Alpha King Eryx. She’s an Omega. Which means she's a servant. Uncle Victor made that clear. She is the niece of the late rogue queen, yes, but she is no kin to us.”
Eryx ignored her. He looked only at me. His gaze was steady, unwavering.
“Sit, Kaira,” he said.
My name.
He used my name.
Not Omega. Or Servant.
Kaira.
The shock hit me harder than I expected. I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. Why did he call me by my name? Why did he say it with such... familiarity? I couldn’t smell his intent, with my wolf absent nor could I read his aura. I only saw his eyes, intense and unreadable.
My legs felt heavy. I looked at Victor, hoping for permission, for mercy. But Victor just watched, his expression unreadable. He was testing me. And so was Eryx.
I didn’t sit. I couldn’t. The humiliation was too thick to swallow. To sit at their table would be an insult to my own pride. And yet, the offer hung in the air, tempting and dangerous.
“She cannot sit,” Aven said. His tone was final. Cold and blunt.
He set his glass down with deliberate precision. “We are discussing serious matters. But I would like to address this now. The Cromwell Academy admissions. Emma… She was accepted, given her status as Victor’s kin and a capable wolf promoting her to senior year. But this…”
Aven gestured vaguely at me, his hand sweeping through the air as if dismissing a fly.
“An Omega? One that's wolfless? She's basically human. Cromwell is a school for nobles. For warriors. For Alphas and Betas who will lead packs. She has no place there. It would be an insult to the institution. An insult to the students. And frankly, an insult to us.”
His words were not just a rejection; they were an erasure. He wasn’t just saying no. He was saying I didn’t belong to their world. That I was beneath consideration.
Emma's lips curved into a triumphant smile. She looked at me with pity that felt like acid burning my skin. “See? Even the Alpha Kings know your place, cousin. You are nothing.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. The pain grounded me.
“I will pay for her tuition,” Eryx said.
The words hung in the air, shocking everyone into silence.
But then, a memory flashed in my mind.
- Writer
