Chapter 6

ELARA'S POV

The following morning, they guided me through the winding hallways of the palace. The space they gave me was compact, but honestly, it exceeded anything I'd imagined.

In my mind, I'd braced for something like a dingy cell.

Instead, it turned out to be a modestly outfitted spot, complete with a little dresser and a pair of slim windows letting in some light.

Kind of charming, actually.

"Welcome," a friendly tone cut through my lingering anxiety.

"Hi there, I'm Martha," a smallish girl about my age stuck out her hand from the doorway, dressed in a pink checkered long skirt paired with a baggy top. "Your new roommate." She tacked on.

"Oh," I stammered, "Excuse me," I clasped her hand, mirroring her bright grin with a tentative one of my own. "Thanks so much for the warm reception."

The edges of her eyes wrinkled with kindness, "No worries about the setup—it's basic, but it grows on you... more or less like a cozy spot."

I let out a quiet chuckle, "Or maybe even nicer."

"Exactly!" She beamed back, her smile real and inviting. "Want the grand tour? Or prefer to clean up first?"

"I'd rather freshen up to start," I replied.

"Alrighty," she slapped her palms together, "Looks like you're short on stuff, so I'll lend you some of mine, though..." Her gaze traveled over me from head to toe, "Your chest might be a bit fuller than mine, so the tops could hug tight. Think you can work with that?"

Heat rose to my face; I was a tad self-conscious but deeply appreciative. "Absolutely, that's incredibly kind of you."

"No big deal."

A couple hours passed after I'd indulged in a lengthy shower, slipping into Martha's outfits—they weren't a flawless match, but way preferable to going without. She even shared some eats with me before leading me around the palace grounds.

She kicked off with the staff areas, the cooking space, the washing zones. "This is where our duties wrap up; the rest of the crew handles the next steps—steer clear of crossing paths with them, they can get pretty grumpy."

"Naturally, appreciate the heads-up."

"Well, okay," she rubbed her palms eagerly, pointing toward the expansive corridor, "Let me take you deeper into the palace; we've barely scratched the surface."

"I—" I blinked at her in surprise, "You mean we're not done? We've been trekking for ages..."

She laughed lightly, "Sweetie, this is a full-on palace. Not your average house."

As we ventured onward, we turned a bend and unintentionally collided with Ronan.

"Alpha!" Martha's face drained of color instantly, and she dipped her head in a deep bow.

I paused for a beat, my thoughts scrambling before I copied her gesture.

Ronan's stare felt like a heavy load pressing down, an intense burden. I chanced a peek upward; his eyes were shadowed and piercing, making me squirm inside.

A breath of relief slipped out as his footsteps echoed away, his beta following right behind. The tension in the air lifted right then.

"Damn—" Martha muttered, "We gotta watch our steps better next time."

I bobbed my head. "Duly noted."

Restless and unable to just lounge in the room twiddling my thumbs, I tagged along with Martha to the laundry area. She objected at first, urging me to chill and kick off properly the next day. But truthfully, idling around wore me out more.

While helping Martha in the washroom, I sensed the other servants' glances boring into me. Their expressions were laced with doubt and, well... the familiar look I'd grown accustomed to.

Revulsion.

"Isn't she the intruder?" One whispered just loud enough, leaning in toward her companion, "Why hasn't she been dealt with yet?"

I acted like I wasn't eavesdropping, but I'd sneak side glances now and then.

"Probably a mole," another spat quietly, "Here to snoop on us. You can't just let strangers waltz in without question."

"Spot on," the first one sneered, "Orphan, my foot. Just a pity play to tug at the Alpha's heartstrings. A setup, mark my words."

"She'll get exposed eventually. The Alpha always makes sure those who cross him remember it forever."

Their chatter turned my stomach, and my grip faltered, sending the pail in my hands crashing down, splintering into pieces across the tiles. I stared at the wreckage I'd caused.

Shaking it off, I crouched to gather the shards. I shouldn't give them the satisfaction of my attention.

It wasn't like this was new—people had jabbered about me before; even my so-called best friend had done far worse...

A tap on my arm pulled me up; it was Martha, her mouth set in a firm line. She knelt and scooped the bits from my grasp. "Ignore them," she murmured. "Those chicks yap about every little thing under the sun."

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug, aiming for nonchalance, but I couldn't fully mask how much it burned. It cut right through, no matter how far I'd fled; people's venom always caught up.

I rose and grabbed a fresh pail, loading it with the rinsed garments, then faced Martha. "I'll head out and hang these up."

She flashed an encouraging grin. "Sure thing."

I stepped into the open courtyard, draping the wet fabrics out to dry, and my eyes wandered until they landed on him.

Ronan.

He was positioned not too far off, facing away from me. His focus seemed glued to whatever lay ahead, out of my view. As I pivoted to leave, that nagging pull tugged at me from within.

This connection had to be a mistake; it simply couldn't be right.

Kael had exploited me, and Ronan... well, he clearly couldn't be bothered.

How did I end up linked to two guys who saw me as nothing? This bond had brought me nothing but heartache.

I startled when he spun around, our eyes meeting for a fleeting instant. I began to hurry off, eager to create some space.

"Hold it." His order carried absolute command, brimming with dominance that glued my boots to the ground.

I could hear him approaching, his essence exuding raw strength and a daunting vibe. When he came to a halt directly before me, his attention was locked straight on.

Next to his looming build, I felt downright tiny.

"Whatever you're imagining this to be," he stated, edging nearer, his words sharp and offhand. "Forget about it. I'm not buying in."