Claimed By The Tyrant King

Despite how much Rosalind despised Alaric, she could not deny that the things he said were true. Rowan had lied to her, and although she kept trying to convince herself that he had his reasons, doubt had already begun creeping into her mind.

Lying to her was not reasonable, especially when he had countless chances to tell her the truth but chose not to.

Every memory with him now felt different in her head. The stories he told her, the things he carefully avoided saying, and the way he always redirected her whenever she became too curious suddenly carried a completely different meaning.

He had spoken about his past in ways that made her sympathize with him, yet now all of it made her feel foolish because he had known the truth all along while he watched her pity him.

And the more she thought about it, the more it hurt.

Rosalind had truly hoped that Rowan would remain the Rowan she knew, the footman she laughed with, argued with, trusted, and eventually loved. But now everything seemed to be crumbling apart before her eyes, leaving her with nothing except anger and a heart that hurt so badly it felt as though thousands of dull knives were tearing through it over and over again.

The guards were now leading her toward the dungeon.

In Alaric’s twisted mind, he wanted them both to suffer together for his own satisfaction.

But Rosalind was not going there for Alaric. She was doing this for herself.

"This way, my lady," the guards said after unlocking the heavy entrance.

They walked ahead of her while Rosalind followed behind, her heart pounding with every step that brought her closer to the place Rowan was being held.

The air down there was cold and damp, yet the anger burning through her veins was enough to keep her moving.

Eventually they stopped in front of the last cell, and the guards quietly stepped away to give her space.

Rosalind slowly lifted her eyes toward Rowan.

He was seated calmly inside as if the darkness and chains around him did not bother him at all.

And the moment he sensed someone watching him, he opened his eyes and looked up. Their gazes met instantly.

At the sight of him, her heart ached despite everything, but the anger inside her quickly forced those feelings away as she stared at him coldly.

"Rosalind?" he called softly, and hearing her name in his voice still sent a shiver through her body like it always did.

But Rosalind quickly reminded herself that she was not here because she missed him.

Rowan immediately stood up and walked toward the front of the cell while the guards moved farther away to give them privacy. Only the torchlight remained burning nearby, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

His gaze moved over her carefully, almost desperately, and the moment he realized she had not been harmed, relief softened his expression. "You’re fine," he said quietly.

Then confusion appeared in his eyes.

"But what are you doing here? How did you..."

His words stopped the moment he looked properly at her face. "Rosalind?"

But this was not the Rosalind he knew. She would have smiled at him, or at least her eyes would have softened. She would have rushed toward him and told him how much she missed him. But instead, she stood there looking at him as if he were a stranger.

"Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

Rosalind said nothing.

Instead, her fists clenched harder, and Rowan finally realized that she was angry.

"Rosalind..." he called again.

"Rowan," she finally replied, although her voice lacked every trace of warmth it once carried whenever she said his name. Then her eyes hardened further. "Or should I call you King Drystan?"

He froze.

For the first time since she met him, Rosalind watched Rowan visibly lose composure. His eyes wavered, and although he tried to remain calm, she could see that she had unraveled him.

After a long silence, Rowan finally spoke.

"What are you talking about?" he asked quietly, though his gaze was already beginning to avoid hers.

Rosalind laughed bitterly. "You know exactly what I’m talking about" she said, hurt filling her voice despite how much she tried to control it. "I saw your portrait in Alaric’s gallery and I even discovered your real name... Are you still going to stand there and pretend?"

Rowan took a slow breath. "Rosalind... I—"

"Enough" she cut him off sharply, her gaze darkening, "You must really think I’m stupid. Just another woman you could..."

"I never thought any of that," he said immediately.

Her brows lifted in disbelief. "Really, Rowan? Because all you ever do is lie, deceive and hide things from me. Why?" she demanded.

She stared directly at him, but he could no longer hold her gaze, and somehow that hurt even more.

"Because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth while I trusted you completely," she continued, her voice shaking now. "Every part of you was closed off. You only showed me what you wanted me to see instead of who you truly are."

Then she scoffed bitterly.

"No wonder you never wanted to leave with me. No wonder you always acted strangely sometimes. No wonder you knew things about this palace that no ordinary servant should know. It was because you were the king all along." Her breathing became uneven as tears gathered painfully in her eyes. "And you never planned on living some simple life with a nobody like me. That’s why you hid who you were because I was never important enough to know."

"That’s not true, Rosalind," Rowan said immediately, pain breaking through his composure.

She looked at him with tears gathered in her eyes, and Rowan felt his chest tighten painfully because he knew he was the reason behind her suffering. He never intended for things to become like this. Hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted.