Claimed By The Tyrant King

Sabine woke up with a frown and a splitting headache, her mind still reeling from last night.

She hadn’t slept a wink because she couldn’t stop thinking about what Alaric and Rosalind had been doing. Why had he asked her to stay back while shooing everyone else away? she wondered, and her stomach twisted at the thought.

When she had asked, one of her loyal servants told her that Alaric had taken Rosalind to his bedchamber and all the color drained from her face.

He had taken her there!?

That could only mean one thing, he wanted to be intimate with Rosalind. And that thought made her heart squeeze. Why Rosalind and not her, when she was ready to give him everything?

She had even stayed up, counting the minutes, imagining what Rosalind might be doing, and it left a bitter, burning taste in her mouth.

Then she had seen Rosalind rushing toward her room, her footman trailing behind in those steady and composed steps.

Rosalind wasn’t limping, her legs were perfectly fine which meant they hadn’t done the deed yet but knowledge that she had spent time alone with Alaric made Sabine’s blood boil, her fists clenched tightly to the extent that her knuckles might crack.

Waking fully now, Sabine twisted her lips in displeasure when she realized there was no water in her room. When she rang the emergency bell, no one came and she realized she would have to fetch it herself.

With a hiss, Sabine left her room, her eyes flicking to Rosalind’s door, and her frown deepened.

She turned sharply, making her way down the stairs, where she saw Lady Verity sitting on the couch and flipping through a book as her auburn hair caught the morning light.

Sabine walked to the table and grabbed the glass of water Verity had left for herself before drinking it.

Verity looked up slowly, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. She exhaled quietly before returning her gaze to the book. "You look annoyed this morning. What’s the problem?" she asked calmly.

That was all it took for Sabine’s anger to resurface. She clenched the glass so tightly her knuckles whitened. "If it isn’t that wench Rosalind," she snapped. "Can you believe she was in the king’s private chamber last night?" A look of disbelief and jealousy crossed her face.

Verity’s gaze didn’t waver as she turned the next page slowly, "Isn’t that bound to happen?" she asked evenly. "She’s a mistress too. If the king isn’t intimate with her, will you?"

Sabine’s face turned red and she glared at Verity. Her jaw tightened in both embarrassment and anger but she realised that there was logic in Verity’s words. Rosalind was the king’s fifth mistress, so it was natural for her to visit his bedchamber. Yet knowing it still hurt, it stung worse than she expected. She slammed the glass onto the table, the harsh clink echoed as she flopped onto the other couch.

"I’d suggest you take care of yourself," Verity said quietly, her eyes shifting to Sabine. "With that temper, you might start losing your mind."

"I don’t need your advice," Sabine snapped, and Verity shrugged, returning her gaze to the pages while silently wishing Sabine would leave with her problem.

Footsteps approached, drawing their attention and the other two mistresses appeared.

Thalia was short and plump, with thick dark hair and piercing green eyes while Claire was a blonde like Sabine but leaner. The two of them walked while holding hands.

They took seats near Sabine, staying close as they always did. "You don’t look good today," Claire said while observing Sabine and reached to touch her. Sabine slapped Claire’s hand away with a glare sharp enough to sting.

"What happened?" Thalia asked, noticing how Sabine was in a bitter mood compared to other days.

Before Verity could answer and tell them that Sabine was just jealous of Rosalind like always. Sabine’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, suspicion blazing in her eyes. "You even went to meet Rosalind the other day. What did you talk about?"

Verity met her gaze calmly. "I went to ask how she was doing, and I also told her to join us so she wouldn’t be alone," she said honestly.

Sabine’s face twisted in outrage. "What?" she spat, but Verity simply looked back at her with a blank expression. She said what she said.

Thalia frowned. "I thought we agreed not to speak to her."

"I didn’t agree to anything," Verity corrected in a steady voice.

Sabine’s glare intensified sharply like venom. While the other mistresses used to follow her around and listen to her, she couldn’t control Verity and it annoyed her.

She turned sharply to the other women. "Can you see what’s happening? Verity is speaking to Rosalind when we all agreed not to. What are you going to do next, betray us?" she demanded while facing Verity yet again, her fists clenching tightly.

Verity closed her book with a soft thud, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "What’s wrong with asking if she was okay?" She asked. The hall was silent and she continued, "You saw what happened that day. She clearly wanted to leave, but the king... you know how the king is. I felt for her and..."

"And you thought you can go speak to her" Sabine finished off for her before her eyes narrowed dangerously "I bet she’s doing it on purpose just to get the king’s attention. She’s a wench after all," She spat.

And It wasn’t more than the fact that Sabine was jealous of everything about Rosalind, her looks, her accent, her hair, her curves. Everything about Rosalind seemed to outshine everyone else, and Sabine hated that Alaric was captivated by her. Before Rosalind arrived, at least Alaric used to speak to her, and they could be intimate even though she had to share him with the other mistresses. But Rosalind changed everything, and Alaric was all over her like he was under a spell.

Verity, however, wasn’t seeking the king’s attention, and she knew Rosalind wasn’t either. She simply couldn’t understand how Sabine’s mind worked, to imagine that a girl who had been crying, struggling, and trying to escape the king could still want his attention.

Claire turned her gaze to Verity next. "You cannot be speaking to Rosalind. First of all, let’s leave aside the fact that she’s another mistress. She isn’t on our level. While you and Sabine are both princesses, Thalia is the Marquess’s daughter, and I am the Duke’s daughter. What can a measly viscount’s daughter do among us? Why should we be talking to her at all?"

"Thank you," Sabine said, a small smile of appreciation tugging at her lips.

"All of this just for checking up on her?" Verity asked, disbelief written across her face as a frown settled firmly.

"Verity, you have to comply. If you will not, then you might as well go and join Rosalind, but she will not be here with us," Sabine stated, her voice laced with finality.

That was the last straw. Verity rose from the couch. "Fine," she said sharply, spinning on her heels and heading to her room. The door slammed behind her so hard it echoed throughout the hall.

Sabine adjusted her position on the couch, a flicker of irritation still on her face and her thoughts still tangled around Rosalind. Whatever, she told herself, but the curiosity lingered. She wondered what Verity had said to that viscount daughter. For all she knew, a viscount’s daughter could never be better than her. Rosalind may have the looks, but she would never match a princess.