Claimed By The Tyrant King

Rowan realized, almost immediately, that it had only been in his head.

His leg shifted back into place just as a servant came rushing toward them, the interruption breaking through the moment before anything else could happen.

"Your Majesty..." the servant said as he dropped to his knees, his head bowed low.

Alaric pulled away as he had simply been interrupted mid-action, and his head snapped toward the servant, his expression darkening instantly. "How dare you?" he asked, his voice sharp and edged with irritation.

The servant trembled where he knelt, unable to even lift his head, while Rosalind took that brief moment to draw in a deep breath, her chest rising as she finally filled her lungs again after having been deprived of air.

"News, Your Majesty," the servant managed to say, his voice shaking.

Alaric’s jaw tightened at once as he heard that, and the irritation in his expression did not ease. "What is it?" he asked, his tone low, though the impatience in it was clear.

Whatever it was, it had better be worth the interruption.

"The council has called for a meeting concerning Eryndor," the servant said quickly. "They said it is important, and Your Majesty is required."

Alaric tilted his head slightly, the vein along his jaw ticking as the words settled. The council again. Had they not just finished with one meeting? And now there was another urgent one, as though they had nothing better to do than summon him whenever it pleased them.

The thought alone was enough to sour his mood, and for a brief moment, the urge to have every one of them beheaded crossed his mind.

He did not speak immediately, and the servant remained there, trembling, while Alaric slowly turned his attention back to Rosalind.

She went still the moment his eyes returned to her, her breath catching again without her even realizing it.

He raised his hand and tapped her lightly on the cheek, but there was nothing comforting in it. "We will talk about this later," he said quietly, and even though his lips curved into a faint smile, there was something in his eyes that made it feel like a warning rather than reassurance.

Rosalind returned the smile, though it did not reach her eyes.

In truth, she had no desire to speak to him about this at all.

She could only hope that whatever had called him away would keep him occupied long enough for him to forget.

Alaric turned away then and began to walk, and the servant let out a small, shaky breath as he quickly rose to follow after him.

Alaric stopped again.

The servant halted at once, his body going rigid, and before he could even understand why, Alaric turned back, his cold gaze falling on the servant.

"Go and present yourself at the dungeon," Alaric said.

The servant’s head snapped up slightly, shock breaking through his fear. "Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice unsteady, as though he had not heard correctly.

"You will remain there for three days," Alaric continued without pause, and with that, he turned again and resumed walking, as though he had just passed a casual order rather than a punishment.

The servant’s feet were rooted to the ground, the color draining from his face.

Rosalind had watched the entire exchange and her brows pulled together in confusion, her lips parting in shock.

The man had done nothing but deliver a message, yet he had been punished without hesitation.

It didn’t make sense to her.

As Rowan stepped closer and came to stand just behind her, she found herself speaking without thinking. "Will he be alright?" she asked quietly.

Rowan did not look toward the servant. His attention remained on her instead. "Are you alright, my lady?" he asked.

The question caught her off guard because she had not even thought of herself. "At least I’m doing better than him," she muttered under her breath.

After a moment of silence, "We should head back," Rowan said, his tone steady, though his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. He did not believe that she was fine, not after what had just happened, and the sight of her lips, swollen and bruised, made something tighten in his chest.

Rosalind glanced one last time at the servant, who was already walking away, his steps slower and heavier, like someone who knew exactly where he was going and could do nothing to stop it.

She looked away after that and made her way toward her chamber, her mind already shifting back to what she needed to do.

When the door closed behind her, Rowan remained outside, standing where he was as everything that had just happened replayed in his mind. He did not know whether to be relieved that he had not acted on impulse, because if he had done what he had nearly done, the king would not have hesitated to have him arrested, and execution would have followed soon after.

And yet, the anger did not fade.

The image of the way Alaric had forced himself on her without restraint settled into his thoughts and refused to leave, no matter how he tried to push it aside.

Rowan’s fists balled at the sides.

...He would not stand by and watch it happen again.

This place was dangerous for Rosalind, and the king himself was the greatest threat. If she became his wife, she would be bound here forever, and Rowan could already imagine what that would mean for her, not when he knew Alaric as well as he did.

Because of that alone, and nothing more, Rowan knew he would have to protect her from the dangers that lurked within the palace.

****

By nightfall, the curfew had already been enforced, and everyone was expected to be in their chambers. Rosalind rose from her bed in dark clothing, her hair tied back into a ponytail for ease of movement before she pulled the hood over her head.

She had planned to take her time learning the palace, but that was no longer possible. After what Alaric had said about making her his wife, she knew she could not afford to wait.

Rosalind only needed to confirm a few things before returning. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor.

The moment she looked to the side, Rowan was already watching her.

Rosalind paused for a second. Did he ever rest? She wondered.

"You shouldn’t be outside, my lady," he said.

Rosalind swallowed. "I couldn’t sleep. I just need a short walk."

Rowan did not respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on her, studying her in silence before his gaze lowered slightly, taking in the way she was dressed, and then lifted back to her face.

Rosalind felt heat rise to her cheeks even in the dim light. Why was he looking at her like that?

Rowan’s gaze had already taken in her clothes, and nothing about them suggested a simple walk, she was trying to move without being noticed, and if his judgment was right, she intended to go further than she should.

Rosalind took a small step back, breaking away from his line of sight, unable to stand under it any longer. There was something about the way he looked at her that unsettled her in a way she could not quite explain.

A servant was not supposed to look at their mistress that way, but Rowan was not like the others, and she had no control over him.

"I’ll be back," she said. "You don’t need to follow me."

His eyes narrowed at her but Rosalind gave no further explanation and turned, her steps quiet as she walked away, careful not to draw attention.

Rowan was now certain of what she intended... She was going to look around. And telling him not to follow her had to be a mistake.

After what had happened earlier, Alaric would have tightened security. The guard positions would not be the same, and Rosalind had no way of knowing that.

If she walked into it blindly, she would run into trouble.

...Rowan did not hesitate and followed after her, keeping enough distance so she would not notice.