THE ALPHA'S FATED WITCH

CHAPTER 9: Refuse

Earlene

I was completely flustered, gobsmacked by the sudden, intimate shift in the air between us. The sheer force of his presence made me realize I was playing a very dangerous game with a man who could devour me whole.

Unable to formulate a single coherent response, I took a quick step back, breaking his magnetic pull.

"Excuse me," I whispered, my voice betraying my sudden nerves.

I turned on my heel and practically fled from the library, leaving him standing there in the quiet room.

Three days had passed since I practically fled from the library. My cheeks still burned whenever I remembered how Thorne had stepped into my personal space, how his voice had dropped, and how he had asked me how I wanted to be treated.

I had no answer for him. My mind had completely blanked under the intense weight of his stare. Instead of standing my ground, I had retreated to my chamber like a frightened child.

Since then, he had not come looking for me. The maddening routine of my isolation settled back into place. I spent my days pacing the large rugs of my room, staring out the thick glass windows at the endless white snow of the courtyard.

Hannah brought my morning tea, always keeping her eyes fixed on the stone floor, rushing out before I could even ask her how she was doing.

Jane brought my lunch and my dinner, setting the silver trays on the table with a stiff, formal nod before leaving me alone again.

But as the long, quiet days dragged on, I found myself sitting at the small table and staring at my plates. My analytical mind, bored from the lack of conversation, began to pick apart the details of my meals.

In the Southern Palace, the kitchens produced endless varieties of food. Even though I was ignored by my father, I still ate what the rest of the court ate. There were fresh green salads, sweet berries, spiced breads, and delicate pastries.

Here in the North, the portions were massive, clearly meant to feed large men and shifting wolves who burned an incredible amount of energy in the freezing temperatures. But the ingredients never changed.

Every single meal consisted of salted beef, thick cuts of venison, or roasted pork. The vegetables were strictly root crops– carrots, turnips, and potatoes. There was never a fresh leaf of green on my plate. There was never a single piece of fruit.

The Ice Kingdom was wealthy. I knew Thorne had endless vaults of gold, enough to buy entire armies. But gold could not change the weather. Their frozen, hostile soil could not grow crops.

The North was rich in metal and military power, but they were severely restricted in basic sustenance.

The door suddenly opened, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Jane walked into the chamber, carrying my evening dinner on a large silver tray. The familiar smell of roasted meat and potatoes instantly filled the room.

She walked straight to the small wooden table by the window. She set the tray down and arranged the silver cutlery perfectly, her face set in its usual unsmiling expression.

"Your dinner," Jane said, turning on her heel to leave.

I looked at the plate. Then I looked at the closed door leading to the corridor. The thought of sitting entirely alone at this table for another night, eating the same meal in absolute silence while the Alpha continued to ignore my existence, finally snapped my patience.

I reached out and pushed the silver tray across the table. The metal screeched loudly against the wood, stopping right at the edge.

Jane stopped halfway to the door. She turned around slowly. Her grey eyes narrowed as she looked at the pushed tray, and then up at my face.

"Is there a problem with the meal?" She asked flatly.

"I am not eating it," I said.

She crossed her hands over the front of her apron, her eyes cold with disapproval. "The kitchens prepared a hearty portion. You need to keep your strength up in this cold. You are much too thin for this climate."

"I am not eating another meal alone in this room," I clarified, keeping my voice firm. "Take it away."

"The Alpha requires you to be fed," Jane replied, clearly unbothered by my tone. "I suggest you sit down and eat your food before it gets cold."

"Then the Alpha can come here and tell me that himself," I fired back. "Go and get him."

Jane stood tall. She did not stammer, and she certainly did not look nervous. She looked at me like I was a misbehaving, spoiled child throwing a tantrum. "The Alpha is managing a territory. He is currently reviewing border patrols with the Vanguard. His time is not to be wasted on a stubborn appetite."

"I am his..." I started to say it, but the word died in my throat.

Bride.

He had claimed me in my father's throne room, but since we arrived here, he had completely refused to acknowledge me.

He hadn't told his pack. He hadn't introduced me. To Jane, and to everyone else in this fortress, I was just a weak, wolfless human.

I knew Thorne believed my lack of strength was a weakness, something to be hidden away so his enemies wouldn't see his vulnerability.

"I am his responsibility," I corrected myself. "Tell him I want to see him."

"I will do no such thing," Jane said coldly, taking a step toward the table. "If you choose to skip your meal, that is your decision. But the kitchen staff has already cleaned the fires for the night. They will not prepare another plate for you until morning."

I stood up from my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to back down from the older woman's intimidating glare. "Fine. Then I will starve before I eat another meal alone in this room. You can tell him exactly that."

Jane did not argue. She did not plead with me or offer a compromise. She gave a single, sharp nod of her head. She walked to the table, picked up the heavy silver tray, and marched straight out of the chamber.

The door clicked shut.

I was alone again.

An hour passed. Then two.

The sun set behind the mountains, plunging the fortress into darkness. The only light in my massive chamber came from the stone hearth. I sat in the high-backed chair near the window, watching the thick snowflakes fall against the glass.

My stomach gave a loud, painful rumble. I pressed my hand against my waist, ignoring the gnawing hunger that was beginning to twist inside me.

Doubt began to creep deeply into my mind. I thought my little rebellion would force his hand. I thought his Alpha instincts, no matter how deeply he buried them, wouldn't allow him to let me skip a meal.

But as the hours ticked by, the silence in the wing grew heavier and heavier.

Jane was right. Thorne truly did not care. He had made it clear that I was just a political tool. He wasn't going to drop his military duties and run to my chamber just because a girl refused to eat her potatoes. He was probably glad I was staying out of his way.

The fire burned low in the hearth and the large logs crumbled into glowing red embers as the cold started to seep into the edges of the large room.

I pulled my legs up into the chair, resting my chin on my knees. I was foolish to think I could demand anything from a man who ruled with such absolute control. I was going to go to bed hungry, and it was entirely my own fault.

I closed my eyes, preparing to get up and bury myself under the furs of the bed to try and sleep through the hunger.

But then, the doors suddenly swung wide open and Thorne stepped into the chamber.

He filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking out the torchlight from the corridor.

He wore a dark leather tunic. He looked exhausted, but the fatigue was completely overshadowed by the dark, intense annoyance radiating from him.

In his large hand, he held a steaming plate of food.

He stepped fully inside and kicked the door shut behind him. The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop instantly. He walked across the thick rugs, his heavy boots making slow, deliberate sounds against the floorboards, until he reached the small wooden table.

He set the plate down with a dull thud.

I didn't uncross my arms. I stayed curled in my chair, my chin lifted as I watched him.

Thorne turned his head and locked his dark, unreadable gaze onto mine. The sheer pressure of his stare was suffocating.

But he didn't yell. He didn't even demand an explanation for my behavior. He just stood there, towering over the small table, silently daring me to refuse the meal to his face.