Chapter 2

Freya's pov.

By the time I stumbled back into my narrow servant's quarters, my body was barely holding together. The pain clawed at my back with every movement, sharp and relentless. Two maids hovered over me, their faces drawn in concern as they fetched warm water and healing salves.

"Let us clean your wounds, Miss Freya," one of them murmured.

I barely nodded, too exhausted to protest. The water stung as it touched the open lashes across my back, and I sucked in a sharp breath, biting down the cry threatening to escape.

The door creaked open, and another servant entered, her expression tense. "Alpha Alaric has ordered you to serve at the feast tonight."

A knot of dread coiled in my stomach. How could he expect me to stand, to move, to pretend as if I wasn't barely clinging to consciousness?

Tears burned at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I would not break. Not now.

I shifted, trying to push myself up, only for agony to lance through my spine. A strangled gasp slipped from my lips.

"Freya."

I looked up to see Theon standing in the doorway. His gaze softened as he took in my state, then hardened with frustration. "Leave us," he said to the maids, his voice firm.

The women hesitated before bowing and slipping out. Theon stepped inside, setting a small jar down on the table. "I brought this from the healers. It'll help."

I swallowed. "You don't have to—"

"Turn around," he cut in, his voice gentle but brooking no argument. "I won't look."

I hesitated, then slowly turned, exposing my ravaged back. The bed dipped as he sat behind me, and a moment later, cool fingers traced the salve over my wounds. I exhaled shakily.

"You never take care of yourself," Theon muttered.

I scoffed weakly. "I had to help that girl."

He sighed. "You always throw yourself into the fire."

"Better to suffer on the outside than rot away inside," I whispered.

Theon didn't reply. But I felt the way his fingers lingered against my skin, as if he wanted to take away even a fraction of my pain.

Once Theon had finished applying the salve, he sighed heavily and pulled away. "You need to be careful, Freya. You think you're invincible, but you're not."

I turned my head slightly, catching his troubled expression. "If I had let that girl suffer, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident. "And if you keep this up, there won't be anything left of you to live with."

A knock at the door broke the tension. A servant peered inside, her eyes darting to Theon before settling on me. "It's time," she said hesitantly. "The feast is starting."

With Theon's help, I struggled to my feet. Pain clawed at my every move, but I clenched my jaw, determined not to show weakness and straightened my spine.

The grand hall was illuminated by golden candlelight, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine heavy in the air. Laughter echoed from the guests, the clinking of goblets and scraping of utensils blending into a decadent cacophony. I took my place among the other servants, hands trembling as I adjusted my tray.

At the head of the table sat King Maximilian, his presence commanding, an aura of raw dominance rolling off him in waves. At his right, my father, Alpha Alaric, did his best to impress the king, his voice laced with forced charm. Next to him, Seraphina draped herself in an exaggerated show of admiration, her eyes never straying far from the king.

Then there was Dorian.

He sat in his chair like a king himself, posture relaxed yet exuding control. His icy blue gaze flicked over the feast before landing on me as I entered the room. The smirk that curled his lips sent a chill down my spine.

Selene, my stepsister, was seated beside him, her body angled toward him in a clear display of interest. She batted her lashes, leaning in ever so slightly.

"This feast is truly grand, Your Majesty," Seraphina purred, her voice sweet as honey. "A meal fit for a king."

Maximilian nodded, his fingers tapping idly against the goblet. "It is satisfactory." His gaze flickered to my father. "Though I must say, the entertainment upon my arrival was… unique."

My father tensed. "Your Majesty, I assure you, discipline within my pack is necessary."

Dorian let out a dry chuckle. "Is that what you call it? I'd call it something else."

Seraphina, never one to let an opportunity slip, chimed in. "Our Alpha only ensures order is maintained. Some must be taught their place."

Dorian's smirk deepened as his eyes locked onto me. "Is that so?"

Selene took that moment to lean closer to him. "Some of us know where we belong," she said pointedly, casting me a venomous glance.

I kept my face impassive, my grip on the tray tightening.

"I wonder," Dorian mused, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Does she?"

Theon, stationed a few steps away, shifted uncomfortably. He could see it too—the way Dorian was watching me, studying me like I was some kind of intriguing puzzle he wanted to dismantle piece by piece.

Maximilian, disinterested in the petty exchanges, took a sip of his wine. "Enough talk. Let us enjoy the feast."

I bowed my head slightly and stepped forward to serve, careful to keep my expression neutral. Every movement sent fresh pain lancing through me, but I refused to falter.

Dorian's voice cut through the low murmur of the dining hall. "Tell me, Freya," he said smoothly, making the room still. "Did you learn your lesson today?"

A flicker of heat burned in my chest, not of embarrassment, but of defiance. I lifted my gaze just slightly, meeting his stare with quiet steel. "I always learn quickly, my Prince."

He chuckled, amused. "We shall see about that."