Hey Jealousy

POV: Alexandra

We had just learned of a hidden castle somewhere in Vellum—a place shrouded in mystery and thick, almost tangible layers of secrecy. It was said to be the ancient stronghold where the lycans once ruled, their power pulsating through its stone walls like a living, breathing entity. But now, the castle was concealed from the world, veiled behind magic and shadow, waiting silently for the day it would be revealed once more.

I exchanged a bewildered glance with Garrett, whose eyebrows were furrowed in thought. The prospect of a hidden castle—an entire fortress concealed by magic—seemed almost too fantastical to believe.

“So, how the hell do we find this place and lift the veil that conceals it?” I asked, my voice sharp with impatience and curiosity.

Jack sighed deeply, the sound carrying the weight of frustration and uncertainty. He rubbed his temple as if trying to massage the answer out of the recesses of his mind. “Well… that’s where things get complicated,” he muttered, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “And by complicated, I mean very frustrating.”

Garrett straightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘frustrating’?”

Jack met his gaze, and there was something in his expression—an odd mix of resignation and sympathy. “The veil that hides the castle isn’t just any ordinary enchantment. It’s intertwined with an ability that’s incredibly rare—one that allows a person to see beyond the normal plane, to glimpse what’s hidden between worlds. It’s called the Sight of the Veil.”

I blinked, my mind struggling to piece together Jack’s explanation. “Sight of the Veil?” I repeated slowly, skepticism clear in my voice. “Sounds… weird.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he shot me a pointed look. “Weird? As if any ability sounds perfectly normal,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Think about it. Tears of the Sun? Healing Heart? Plenty of abilities sound weird—yours included.”

A clink of metal sounded softly in the room, the distinct rasp of a sword being drawn, and my heart jumped into my throat. Lysandra stepped forward, her silver eyes glinting dangerously as she gripped the hilt of her blade with a look of calm, yet deadly intent.

“I can take him out for you, Your Eminence,” she offered, her voice deceptively sweet and calm—an eerie contrast to the tension thrumming through the air.

Before I could respond, a soft sigh echoed from the doorway. “Easy there, giant lady,” Jess muttered dryly as she stepped into the room, her sharp blue eyes sweeping over the scene with a bemused expression. With a swift, fluid motion, she reached out and gently pushed Lysandra’s arm, causing the blonde warrior to hesitate.

“Jack is displaying what we Kellens call sarcasm,” Jess continued with a smirk, her tone light and teasing as if addressing a child who had yet to learn the finer nuances of language.

Lysandra’s gaze shifted to Jess, her brows knitting together as she sheathed her sword with a reluctant click. “Sarcasm or not, I don’t appreciate his tone,” she muttered, her voice carrying a low growl. “It’s disrespectful.”

Jack raised his hands defensively, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I meant no offense, Lysandra. Just trying to lighten the mood.” He glanced at Alexandra, his expression sheepish. “Forgive me, Your Grace. It seems my attempt at humor wasn’t well-received.”

I suppressed a chuckle, the corners of my lips twitching despite myself. “No, it’s fine, Jack,” I said, my voice laced with amusement. “Lysandra just really needs to lighten up if she’s going to hang out with us.”

Garrett let out a soft laugh beside me, the sound warm and genuine. “Hang out with us?” he repeated, his deep voice carrying a hint of playful incredulity. “I don’t think that’s what she would call what we’re doing ‘hanging out.’” He glanced over at Lysandra, his eyes softening with a glimmer of something akin to admiration. “No, Lysandra has a warrior’s heart through and through. That would explain her unwavering commitment to duty. In a sense, I understand her myself.”

There was a subtle shift in his gaze as he looked at Lysandra—a look of respect that made something twist sharply in my chest. It was as if he were seeing her in a new light, his eyes lingering on her form with a kind of acknowledgment I hadn’t noticed before. Lysandra stood tall, her posture straight and unyielding, every inch the protector, the fierce sentinel at my side. She met Garrett’s gaze with her usual composed intensity, a faint nod of recognition passing between them.

But the sight of it made something hot and unwelcome coil within me.

I blinked, confusion mingling with the simmering sensation bubbling just beneath the surface. Why did it bother me to see Garrett look at her like that? Why did it matter that he saw her strength and respected it? He was right—Lysandra was a force to be reckoned with, someone who had fought and bled for the safety of those she cared about.

So why, then, did it piss me off so much?

I swallowed, my gaze darting between them as Garrett continued to hold Lysandra’s gaze. “It’s not just commitment,” he added quietly, his tone contemplative. “It’s something deeper—an understanding that goes beyond duty. A warrior like her knows what it means to protect something, even if it means standing alone against impossible odds. I can respect that.”

Lysandra’s eyes softened, just a fraction, the faintest hint of surprise flickering across her face. It was rare for anyone to recognize the quiet, unspoken burden she carried so fiercely. But Garrett did. He saw her, truly saw her, in a way that made my chest tighten.

I forced myself to smile, though it felt strained, my lips stretched too tight over the sudden turmoil churning inside me. “Well, it’s great that you understand each other,” I said, my voice coming out a bit sharper than intended. I cleared my throat, but the words spilled out before I could stop them. “But maybe we can stop staring at my guard and focus on the issue at hand?”

Garrett blinked, genuine confusion clouding his features. He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he tried to decipher the sudden edge in my tone. “Did I… upset you?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. If I met his gaze, I wasn’t sure what I’d see there—or worse, what he’d see in mine. Instead, I turned my attention to Jack, who stood awkwardly beside us, clearly caught in the crossfire of an argument he hadn’t expected to witness.

“So this business with the Sight of the Veil…” I said briskly, pushing aside the confusing mess of emotions swirling inside me. “Is it an ability Garrett can gain as the Lycan King?”

Jack glanced between Garrett and me, his eyes narrowing as if trying to assess the sudden shift in the atmosphere. After a moment, he cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “It’s… impossible to know,” he admitted, his shoulders lifting in a slight shrug. “As I mentioned before, different abilities manifest in different kings. What was useful to one king in his time might not be useful to another in his. It’s all dependent on the individual’s connection to the ancestral magic.”

The answer did nothing to quell the frustration simmering beneath my skin. I could feel it building, a heat that spread like wildfire through my veins. The culmination of everything—the revelation of a hidden castle we couldn’t access, the uncertainty of Garrett’s potential abilities, and, most irritating of all, Garrett’s unwavering gaze on Lysandra—boiled over inside me. I wanted to scream, to punch something, anything to release the tension that felt like it was going to crack me open.

A frustrated grunt escaped me, raw and unbidden, as if it were wrenched straight from the depths of my soul. I shoved away from the group, the motion so abrupt that Jack flinched back, and began pacing the length of the room, my movements jerky and erratic. My breath came in short, sharp bursts, each one like a stab of frustration cutting through my chest. Was this really the first major challenge I had to face as Regent? A centuries-old, magically-hidden castle and Garrett’s infuriating, lingering gaze on my guard? I felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on me—one with a punchline that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The feeling of helplessness, of being trapped between responsibilities and uncertainties, gnawed at me like a hungry beast. And Garrett… damn him. Why did he have to look at her like that? Why did he have to understand her so easily when I was still struggling to understand my own role in all of this?

As I continued to pace, Garrett exchanged a look with Jack, who merely shrugged, his gaze flicking back and forth between us with an expression that was somewhere between concern and confusion.

Then, without warning, Garrett moved. He crossed the room in a few long strides and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, his grip strong and steady. My eyes widened in surprise as he spun me around to face him, the suddenness of it forcing me to halt mid-step.

“Alexandra, look at me,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, the words infused with a calm authority that made something inside me waver. “Sweetheart, whatever it is that’s bothering you, we can work through it together. Okay? You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”

His gaze held mine, steady and unwavering, his brown eyes filled with a warmth and patience that made my chest tighten. And yet… it only stoked the embers of my frustration further, because he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what was really tearing at me—what was driving me mad.

I glared up at him, hating the way his stupidly handsome face seemed to radiate calm and assurance when I felt anything but. “You’re part of what’s irritating me, you jerk,” I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

His brows shot up in surprise, and for a split second, a flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by a look of determination. He didn’t back away. He didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened, his fingers digging in just enough to ground me, to keep me from spiraling further.

“Okay,” Garrett said slowly, his voice calm and steady despite the tension in the air. He nodded as if he were carefully absorbing each word, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I’m part of what’s irritating you. But I need you to help me understand why, Alexandra. Talk to me. What did I do?”

Something inside me snapped. I let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and hollow even to my own ears. “Oh, you don’t know?” I shot back, my words dripping with a sharp, mocking edge. “‘Oh, I understand Lysandra and respect her,’” I mimicked, lowering my voice to imitate his. “‘And to top it off, you stared, you jerk.’”

Garrett’s brows furrowed, confusion flitting across his face as he blinked down at me. “I—what? I wasn’t—”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” I cut in, shaking my head as the anger I’d been holding back surged to the surface. “You looked at her like she was some sort of… I don’t know, kindred spirit or whatever. And you just kept staring, like she’s the only one who understands you, the only one who—”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on.” Garrett lifted his hands in a placating gesture, his eyes wide with realization. “Wait, is that what this is about? You think I’m—what—drawn to Lysandra because I understand her?” He sounded genuinely baffled, as if the very idea were ludicrous.

“Of course you are!” I snapped, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “You were practically fawning over her dedication and strength and all that warrior spirit nonsense. Like she’s the only one who can possibly get it.”

“Alexandra…” Garrett murmured softly, his tone gentle, but I could see the flicker of frustration beneath it. “I wasn’t fawning. I was just acknowledging something I respect. That’s it. You know how much you mean to me.”

It was an irrational reaction, and I knew it. But no matter how much I tried to reason with myself, I couldn’t stop the surge of emotion twisting inside me like a knife. Having Garrett look at anyone else with something other than indifference—seeing him admire, appreciate, or even just notice someone else—messed with my head in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It clawed at me, unsettling and sharp, filling me with a chaotic mix of anger, insecurity, and something far darker.

Jealousy. Cold, hard, and utterly undeniable jealousy.

I could almost taste it—bitter and acrid, like metal on my tongue. It tightened my chest and made every breath feel like a struggle. It wasn’t just a passing flicker of envy; it was a deep, visceral ache that burned through me, consuming all rational thought.

And that meant something.

It meant I cared. It meant I really cared about what Garrett thought, about how he felt—about him. Because if I didn’t, this wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t be reacting like this, standing here with my heart in my throat, trembling with emotions I didn’t want to name.

It meant that somewhere along the way, in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty, I might have actually started falling for my husband. My husband. The man I hadn’t chosen. The man who had been thrust upon me.

What a ridiculous sentence.

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Falling for my husband? It sounded like the kind of thing people in stories said, a line from a tale filled with yearning glances and whispered promises. But this wasn’t a story. This was my life. And it felt messy and raw and real, and I had no idea what to do with it.