Chapter 18 A Little More Normal - Amelia’s POV
I changed quickly, wincing as the shirt brushed against my healing back. The jeans were slightly loose around the waist but otherwise fit well enough. The sneakers felt strange after years of worn-out shoes with holes and frayed laces.
'You look normal,' Kaela observed, her mental voice softer than usual. 'Like any other girl going for a walk.'
The thought made my throat tight again. I grabbed the book I'd been reading earlier—some security blanket instinct I didn't examine too closely—and rejoined Mira in the sitting room.
She looked up from her phone, a smile breaking across her face. "Much better! Those jeans look great on you."
I felt my cheeks heat at the compliment. "Thanks. They're comfortable."
"Ready to go?"
I nodded, following her to the door. In the corridor outside, two guards stood at attention, their faces impassive. I froze instinctively.
"Don't mind them," Mira said quietly. "They're for your protection, not to keep you in."
'That's what they all say,' Kaela muttered.
We started down the corridor, Mira keeping her pace slow to match mine. My muscles still ached from the long car journey and years of poor nutrition, making me slower than I would have liked.
"This is the eastern tower," Mira explained as we walked. "It's mostly guest quarters and some of the royal family's private rooms. His Majesty's chambers are in the northern tower, and his office is in the central building."
I tried to memorize our path as we went, noting landmarks—a distinctive painting here, an unusual sconce there. The castle was a labyrinth of corridors and staircases that all looked frustratingly similar.
"How do you not get lost?" I asked as we descended a sweeping staircase with marble steps.
Mira laughed. "Oh, I got lost constantly when I first arrived. Ended up in the armoury once when I was supposed to be delivering tea to the council chamber. That was awkward."
The mental image of Mira stumbling into a room full of weapons with a tea tray made me smile despite my nervousness.
"This is the main gallery," she said as we entered a long hall lined with portraits. "All the past Alpha Kings and Queens. Bit creepy at night if you ask me—feels like their eyes follow you."
I glanced at the stern faces watching our passage. "I can see that."
"And through here is the kitchen corridor," Mira continued, leading me down a narrower passage that smelled of baking bread and roasting meat. My stomach growled embarrassingly loudly, making her grin. "Someone's hungry!"
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"Don't be. It's good to have an appetite."
The kitchen itself was a hive of activity—staff in white uniforms moved with practiced efficiency between stations, the air thick with steam and delicious aromas. No one paid us much attention as Mira guided me through to a door on the far side.
"And here we are," she announced, pushing it open to reveal a small walled garden.
I stepped outside and immediately felt my lungs expand, drawing in air that tasted of flowers and herbs and freedom. The garden wasn't large, maybe fifty feet square, with stone paths winding between raised beds bursting with plants. A few small tables and chairs were scattered around, only one of them occupied by what looked like a pair of kitchen workers enjoying a quick break.
"This is the staff garden," Mira explained. "The royal gardens are much more formal, but I like this one better. It's more lived-in."
"It's perfect," I breathed, turning slowly to take it all in.
She led me to a table near a small fountain, its gentle splashing creating a peaceful backdrop. "Have a seat. I'll be right back with your dinner."
I sank into the chair, still clutching my book, overwhelmed by the simple joy of being outside with no one watching, no one waiting to punish me for enjoying a moment of peace. The evening air was cool but not cold, the sky above just beginning to deepen toward twilight.
'This is nice,' Kaela admitted reluctantly. 'Don't get used to it, but... it's nice.'
Mira returned faster than I expected, carrying a tray laden with covered dishes and what looked like a bottle of wine. She set it down with a flourish.
"Chef's special tonight—herb-crusted salmon with roasted vegetables and wild rice. And—" she winked conspiratorially as she placed a glass beside me, "a nice white wine to go with it. His Majesty sent it down specifically when I told him you'd be eating in the garden."
My eyes widened. "He knows I'm out here?"
"Of course," she said, uncovering the dishes to reveal food that looked too beautiful to eat. "He has to approve any change in routine for his... guests."
The slight hesitation before "guests" didn't escape me. I was his bride-to-be, not a guest. The thought sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the evening breeze.
"Will you join me?" I asked impulsively, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts.
Mira shook her head regretfully. "I'd love to, but I've got to help with the evening service. The council is dining in tonight, which means all hands on deck." She poured a generous glass of wine. "Enjoy, though. Take your time. No one will bother you out here."
After she left, I sat for a moment simply breathing, letting the garden sounds wash over me—water trickling, leaves rustling, distant kitchen clatter. Then I picked up my fork and began to eat.
The salmon was perfect, flaking at the slightest touch. The vegetables were roasted with herbs I couldn't name, the rice cooked to just the right tenderness. I ate slowly, savouring each bite, surprised to find I was hungry enough to finish most of it. The wine was crisp and light, nothing like the cheap stuff that had occasionally been smuggled into the servants' quarters on special nights.
I was lifting my glass for another sip when the feeling hit me—that distinct, hair-raising sensation of being watched. My hand froze mid-air, eyes sweeping the garden. The kitchen workers had left, leaving me alone among the plants. Then I looked up.
The central tower rose above the garden, its windows glowing golden in the fading light. In one of them, a tall figure stood silhouetted against the warm interior light—broad-shouldered and unmistakable.
The Alpha King. Watching me.
I set my glass down carefully, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs. Our eyes met across the distance, and though I couldn't make out his features clearly, I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.
'Don't look away first,' Kaela instructed. 'Never show submission to predators.'
But it wasn't fear that made me hold his gaze. It was something else—something more complicated. This man had given me a room with windows, clothes that fit, food that nourished. He'd sent his healer to tend my wounds and wine to complement my dinner. He'd allowed me outside without guards hovering at my shoulder.
I lifted my glass again, slowly and deliberately, and took a sip without breaking eye contact. A small gesture of acknowledgment—not quite gratitude, not quite defiance, but something in between.
After a long moment, he inclined his head slightly, a barely perceptible nod, and stepped back from the window, disappearing into the room beyond.
I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.
'He's still playing some game,' Kaela warned. 'Don't forget who he is. What he is.'
"I know," I whispered, looking down at my half-empty plate. "But tonight, just for a little while, I don't want to think about it."
I finished my meal in the growing darkness, listening to the night sounds of the garden, feeling the wine's gentle warmth spreading through me. For the first time in years, my shoulders weren't tight with tension, my eyes weren't constantly darting toward exits and threats.
One peaceful dinner didn't erase the danger of my situation. One day of decent treatment didn't undo years of abuse. One moment of connection with the Alpha King didn't mean I was safe.
But it was something. A small something, but mine to keep.