Alpha King's Broken Mate

First Step

BRISEIS

If humiliation had a taste, mine still lingered, sharp and bitter, coating the back of my throat. I hadn’t stepped outside my room since the training yard incident, except to slip out for food when I was certain the corridors were empty. Even then, I kept my head down, moving like a shadow no one wanted to see.

But shadows can’t hide forever.

That morning, I woke with a heavy knot in my stomach. The pale light of dawn spilled across my bed, but it didn’t warm me. I skipped breakfast, sitting instead on the edge of the mattress with my knees drawn up, replaying Kaela’s smirk in my mind until my chest ached.

A soft knock startled me. For a moment, I thought it might be Lyra, but when I opened the door, a tall warrior stood there. His hair was cropped short, his expression calm but unreadable. A wooden staff rested on his shoulder.

“You’re expected at the yard,” he said, his voice firm.

My throat went dry. “I—I’m not—”

“Not asking,” he interrupted, not unkindly, but with the weight of an order. “Come.”

Everything inside me screamed to close the door. But then I remembered Kaela’s shove, the laughter, the way I’d walked away without a word. That same sting pushed me forward, even as my hands trembled.

Before I stepped out, Lyra’s head poked from the corner of the hallway. “You’re going to train?” she whispered, eyes wide.

“I… think so.”

She darted over and pressed something into my palm, a little blue ribbon. “For luck,” she said with a small smile before scampering away. I tied it around my wrist, the fabric warm from her hand.

The walk to the yard was painfully silent. My escort, Dax, I would later learn, didn’t speak, but his steady pace kept me moving. My bare feet met cold, damp earth when we stepped outside.

The yard was alive with motion. Warriors sparred in pairs, the clash of steel ringing through the crisp morning air. The smell of sweat, leather, and turned soil filled my lungs. Compared to my old pack’s ragged drills, this was… organized, almost graceful in its brutality.

“You’ll start with form,” Dax said, handing me a wooden staff heavier than it looked. “Name’s Dax. Orion assigned me.”

The words caught me off guard. Orion… assigned him?. Heat prickled at the back of my neck.

“Feet apart,” Dax instructed. “Balance. Like this.”

I tried to copy him, but my stance was too narrow, my grip awkward. He didn’t sigh or roll his eyes just nudged my foot into place and adjusted my arms. His hands were firm but not rough, like he’d trained many clumsy beginners before me.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even passable. But I tried.

Within minutes, my shoulders ached. My palms burned from the friction of the wood. Dax corrected me each time, his voice steady. No praise, no mockery. Just correction.

When we moved to footwork drills, I tripped over my own feet twice, landing hard enough to jar my teeth. The third time, I stayed down longer than I should have, my breath coming in sharp bursts.

“Up,” Dax said simply.

I pushed to my feet, even though my legs felt like they might buckle.

We ended with defense practice, Dax striking lightly so I could block. The sound of wood meeting wood rang through my bones. Sometimes I reacted too slowly, the staff hitting my arm or shoulder. Each sting lit a spark of frustration in me, but it also made me more determined to get it right.

At one point, the sharp crack of the staff brought back a memory, Alpha Roderick, his voice low and cold, the sudden blow to my side when I hesitated in a task. My body froze for half a second, and I almost dropped the staff entirely.

Dax didn’t comment on it. He just swung again, forcing me to move.

Two hours later, I was dripping sweat, my hair plastered to my face, my arms trembling so badly I could barely hold the staff.

“You’ve got more in you,” Dax said matter-of-factly, as if he could see something in me I couldn’t.

By the time we finished, I collapsed to the ground, my lungs burning. My chest rose and fell like I’d been running for miles. Dax didn’t offer a smile, but his nod before leaving told me enough.

That’s when I felt it, eyes on me. I glanced up toward the palace and saw him.

Orion.

Standing on the high balcony, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes… there was something there. Not pity. Not quite approval. Something in between, something that made the air in my lungs feel heavier.

I looked away quickly, afraid of what might happen if I stared too long. My pulse didn’t calm for the rest of the walk back.

When I reached my room, my hands shook so badly I could barely lift the cup of water on my table. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. flushed cheeks, messy hair, eyes a little brighter than I remembered.

Later that evening, a knock came at my door. Lyra stood there, holding a small cup of tea in both hands.

“Papa said tea helps muscles,” she explained, carefully setting it down.

I smiled faintly. “Did he?”

She nodded, climbing onto my bed without asking. “He also said you didn’t give up today. That means you’re strong.”

I blinked hard, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Maybe I’m trying to be.”

She scooted closer, curling up beside me. “You’re already my favourite.”

I tied the ribbon she’d given me earlier around her tiny wrist. “And you’re mine.”

We stayed like that until her breathing slowed. At some point, I must have dozed off too, because when I woke in the middle of the night, Lyra was still curled against me, her small hand gripping my sleeve like I might vanish.

I didn’t move. I just lay there, letting the steady rhythm of her breathing fill the room, and for the first time in a long while, the thought crossed my mind.

I want to go back tomorrow.

Not because I have to.

But because I want to.