Claimed By The Tyrant King

Lady Ophelia cleared her throat quickly and turned back to Rosalind. "You may wear your shoes," she said at last.

Rosalind gave a small, restrained smile before moving to retrieve them and slipping them on. Afterward, she was escorted out of her room by the veiled sisters and guards, and the presence of both groups made her feel suffocated, as though she was being paraded like part of an official procession. As she walked, she noticed the servants staring at her with narrowed eyes, and although they bowed respectfully, they could not hide the whispers that followed.

She was led all the way to the throne hall, where the great doors were opened and her name was announced loudly before she entered. Rosalind stepped forward slowly, walking along the long red carpet that stretched toward the throne platform while her escorts followed behind her. With every step, she felt the weight of countless eyes pressing down on her.

Nobles filled the hall from left to right, and the sight made her swallow hard because she knew exactly why they were there. They had come because they knew what had happened. This was not cleansing... it was humiliation dressed as honor.

She tightened her fists at her sides, forcing herself to remain steady despite the questioning looks thrown her way. She could read their thoughts clearly even without hearing them, that she was still something dirty, something tainted, and it made her feel exposed in a way she had never experienced before. And at the center of it all was the king.

Her gaze eventually found her father among the crowd, and for a moment she froze. His expression was hard, his eyes fixed on her as though she had disappointed him beyond repair. He looked away, jaw clenched tightly, and Rosalind forced herself to continue walking forward even though her chest felt heavier with every step.

When she finally reached the end, she stood before Alaric. Her gaze lifted slowly to meet his, and she immediately saw the satisfaction written clearly across his face. He looked pleased, as though he had succeeded in breaking her in front of everyone exactly as he intended.

His smile deepened slightly, almost mocking, as though telling her silently that this was only the beginning.

Rosalind clenched her fists harder, resisting the urge to react as the veiled sisters drew the attention of the hall. Lady Ophelia, as their leader, stepped forward after receiving a subtle signal of permission from Alaric.

In her usual calm but irritatingly composed tone, she began, "Lady Rosalind has completed the rites required by the Crown." She paused, letting her gaze move across the gathered nobles before continuing, "The impurity that stained her reputation has been judged and cleansed according to the customs of the kingdom. She is therefore restored to honor and deemed fit to enter marriage."

With that, she bowed slightly and stepped back into place.

Alaric’s gaze swept across the hall as murmurs began to rise among the nobles, and he raised his hand to command silence. The hall gradually quieted under his authority before he spoke.

"The matter is settled," he said firmly, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Lady Rosalind has completed the rites required by the Crown. Let no one question her place beside me again."

His words silenced the hall completely, pressing heavily over everyone present. Then he continued, his tone colder, more final.

"In four days, she will be my wife. Let preparations begin at once."

Rosalind stood motionless as his voice filled the hall, knowing that this moment marked something irreversible. She did not want this marriage, but there was no escape now, no path that would not bring consequences upon innocent people if she resisted. And so, trapped between duty, fear, and helplessness, she accepted the weight of what was coming, even if her heart refused to follow.

****

After everyone had been dismissed, Rosalind’s gaze caught her father as he strode away with angry steps. She took a moment to gather her gown and hurry after him.

"Father... Father," she called, but he didn’t so much as glance in her direction.

Several nobles turned their heads toward her and immediately began whispering among themselves. Rosalind ignored them as she followed the path Calder had taken.

The guards moved after her at once, but they made no attempt to stop her.

"Father."

She eventually caught up with him in a quiet corner of the palace. Calder slowed slightly, giving her the chance to approach.

Before she could say anything else, he suddenly grabbed her arm and shoved her against the wall.

Rosalind gasped as pain shot through her shoulder, his grip harsh and unforgiving around her arm. "Don’t you ever call me that again," he snapped, pointing directly at her face.

"Haven’t you done enough already? You’ve brought shame upon this family, you little despicable thing." His voice dripped with fury while Rosalind struggled to steady herself beneath his glare.

"Because of you, the other nobles are distancing themselves from me. They are claiming that this is how things are done in my family, but this is you, Rosalind. Just you."

His jaw tightened. "Why did you have to stoop so low as to have relations with a servant? And then you were foolish enough to get caught."

Rosalind swallowed her frustration and said nothing, knowing there was no point trying to reason with him when he had already made up his mind.

"I should have known he was bad news from the beginning" Calder said to himself and he continued, "The way he followed you around, the way he looked at you... I should have known he was nothing but a worthless fool."

Rosalind clenched her teeth. "Don’t speak about him that way."

Calder’s eyes darkened instantly.

Before she could react, his hand swung across her face and the slap echoed through the corridor.

Rosalind staggered slightly as pain exploded across her cheek.

"You wench," he hissed. "Are you still defending him?"

Rosalind looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.

Calder took a step back and stared at her as though she disgusted him. "Just looking at you makes me sick," he spat. "I don’t care what those women declared in there. They can claim you’re pure all they want, but I find that very difficult to believe."

His expression twisted with contempt. "You are nothing but a whore."

The words struck harder than the slap. Tears slipped down Rosalind’s cheeks while her chest tightened painfully.

Calder shot her one final look before turning away.

Rosalind drew in a shaky breath. "What about Mother?" she called after him. "How is she doing?"

The last time she had seen Beth, her mother had watched helplessly as she was dragged away to the dungeon. Rosalind didn’t care what Calder thought of her. The only person she truly cared about in that family was her mother.

Calder stopped abruptly. "You have no right to call her your mother," he said coldly as his shoulders stiffened and his nostrils flared with anger.

"From this day forward, we are no longer related to you. You will have nothing to do with us."

Rosalind clenched her fists.

"Luckily, you’re not my real daughter" he continued bitterly. "And now you’ve brought shame upon your real parents as well."

The tears on Rosalind’s face suddenly stopped mattering.

Her sadness gave way to shock.

Her entire body went still. "What?"

The word left her lips in a whisper.

But Calder had already turned away without another explanation as he walked off and disappeared down the corridor.

Rosalind remained frozen where she stood.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as his words echoed through her mind again and again.

’Luckily, you’re not my real daughter...’

And fear crept into her heart for a reason entirely different from Alaric, Rowan, or the coming wedding.