Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Elara’s POV

The note arrived just as I was leaving the royal training grounds.

A palace runner, barely old enough to shave, held it out with both hands. The imperial seal was pressed into dark wax. I cracked it open.

"Event urgent. Cannot come for you today. Will return to palace later. Look after the children."

No greeting. No explanation. No warmth.

I read it again. Then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something that made sense.

"Wait," I said to the runner. "I need to send a reply."

I scribbled quickly on a scrap of parchment from the writing desk. Are you safe? What happened? Please send word.

The boy took it and disappeared.

Some time passed.

The runner returned, empty-handed and nervous.

"His Majesty read the message," the boy said. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. "There was... no reply, my Lady."

I stared at him until he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Then I dismissed him with a nod.

No reply.

Kaelen always replied. Even when he was buried in council meetings or riding with the border patrol, he sent something. A single line. A rough sketch of a wolf that Lyra loved. Something.

The silence was wrong. It sat in my chest like a stone.

---

By late afternoon, I’d collected the children from the nursery wing. The governess had already left for the evening. Lyra clung to my skirts, chattering about a beetle she’d found in the garden. Valerius walked three paces behind, hands in his pockets, saying nothing.

In the private dining chamber, I set out their supper myself. Honey milk porridge for Lyra, the way she liked it, thick and warm with a drizzle of golden sweetness on top. A roasted chicken leg for Valerius, crispy-skinned, the only thing he’d eat without argument these days.

Lyra ate happily for a few bites. Then she stopped, spoon halfway to her mouth.

"Where’s Father?"

The question landed like a dropped plate.

"He’s working late tonight, my little baby." I smoothed her silver hair back from her forehead. "He’ll be here in the morning."

"But he said he’d read to me tonight. He promised." Her lower lip pushed out. Her golden eyes—so much like Kaelen’s—filled with hurt.

"I know, sweetheart. Sometimes things come up that—"

"He always says that." Valerius’s voice was flat. He didn’t look up from his plate. Just tore a strip of meat from the bone with his fingers. Methodical. Controlled. "Things come up. Meetings run long. The Empire needs him."

The bitterness in his tone made my throat tighten.

"Your father loves you both very much," I said quietly. "He wouldn’t stay away without good reason."

Valerius said nothing. He chewed. Swallowed. Set down the bone.

"May I be excused?"

I wanted to pull him into my arms. Hold him until that awful, rigid mask cracked and the little boy underneath came through. But I knew better. Pushing Valerius when he was like this only drove him further behind his walls.

"Of course, my little warrior."

He left without looking back. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, steady and precise, sounding far too much like his father’s.

Lyra watched him go. Then she turned back to me, porridge forgotten.

"Mother? Is Father angry at us?"

"No, baby. Never at you."

"Then why didn’t he come home?"

I had no answer. So I kissed her forehead and carried her to bed, singing the old lullaby she loved until her breathing deepened and her small fingers uncurled from my sleeve.

---

At nightfall, I wrote another note. Longer this time. More direct.

Kaelen—the children are asking for you. Lyra cried at supper. Valerius is retreating again. I need to know what’s happening. Please.

I sent it with a trusted household guard.

He returned within the hour.

"The Emperor’s personal quarters are empty, my Lady. I left the letter with his valet."

Empty. He wasn’t even in the palace.

I tried a different approach. "Find Sir Cassian. Tell him I need to speak with him urgently."

The guard returned again, slower this time, clearly uncomfortable.

"Sir Cassian’s quarters are dark. His squire says the Commander left the grounds this morning and hasn’t returned."

My stomach dropped.

"And Claire? The Chief Steward?"

"Her assistant says Madam Claire departed on palace business earlier today. No expected return time given."

All of them. Gone. Every single person in Kaelen’s inner circle, vanished on the same day, and not one of them had thought to tell me why.

I paced the length of the sitting room. Back and forth. Back and forth. My reflection caught in the dark windows each time I passed—a pale woman with silver hair and hollowed eyes, wearing a groove into the carpet.

The clock on the mantel ticked past ten.

I sat down. Stood up. Sat down again.

Past midnight.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window and stared out at the empty courtyard below. Torchlight flickered across the cobblestones. A guard walked his patrol route. Nothing else moved.

Past one in the morning.

I tried to read. The words blurred. I tried to write. My hand shook.

Past two.

At some point, I curled up on the settee in the receiving room, still fully dressed, a blanket pulled halfway over my legs. Sleep came in thin, broken fragments—more like drowning than resting. Each time I surfaced, I listened for footsteps. For the creak of the door. For anything.

Nothing.

---

Morning light hit my face like a slap.

I jerked upright. Disoriented. My neck ached. My mouth tasted sour.

The clock read seven.

I stumbled to the bedchamber. The sheets were smooth, the pillows untouched. The bed had not been slept in.

Kaelen had not come home.

The morning was a performance. I bathed. I dressed. I braided my hair with steady hands and painted calm across my face like cosmetics. When the children woke, I served them breakfast and answered their questions with the same gentle lies.

"Father had to travel for something important."

"He’ll be back soon."

"He misses you both terribly."

Valerius watched me with those dark gold eyes and said nothing. He knew. Children always know.

---

By mid-morning, I couldn’t stay inside the walls any longer. The training session I’d scheduled days ago gave me an excuse to move, to breathe, to feel something other than dread.

The royal training grounds were half-empty at this hour. Mist clung to the grass. The smell of hay and horse sweat drifted from the stables.

I was rounding the corner of the armory when I nearly walked straight into him.

Gareth.

He was leaning against the stable wall like he’d been planted there. Waiting. His face was puffy and slick with old sweat. His hair hung in greasy strands. The smell of stale wine hit me before his voice did.

"Well, well." He grinned. It didn’t reach his bloodshot eyes. "If it isn’t my dear brother’s devoted little wife."

I altered my path immediately, stepping wide around him. "I have nothing to say to you, Gareth."

He pushed off the wall. Fell into step beside me.

"Rough night, Ela?" The old name—that name—dripped from his mouth like something spoiled. "You look tired. Almost as tired as someone who waited up all night for a husband who never came home."

My pulse spiked. I kept walking. Faster.

"Funny thing about my beloved brother," Gareth continued, his voice oily and casual. "He disappeared yesterday. Whole inner circle with him. Very hush-hush. Very secretive." He clicked his tongue. "And his wife—the last to know. As always."

"Move out of my way."

He stepped in front of me. Close enough that I could see the broken capillaries in his cheeks, the yellow tinge around his eyes. His gut strained against his jacket. He smelled like a tavern floor.

"I know where he was last night." His grin widened. "I know exactly where he was. And who he was with."

"You’re drunk. And you’re pathetic."

His hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Fingers digging into the fabric of my sleeve.

I wrenched free. Hard enough that he stumbled half a step. I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Just walked—fast, deliberate, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.

His footsteps followed. Unhurried. Confident. Like a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run, insisting he had something "very interesting" to show me.

"Don’t go," he said, his voice carrying that coaxing tone. "Come on. Just another minute of your time. I’ll show you something."