Chapter 6 The Morning After

Sophie's POV

I slammed the heavy stone pestle into the mortar.

Each crack echoing against the wall felt good. It felt like a small, satisfying victory. I repeated the motion.

Crush. Grind. Destroy.

I had not slept for a single second. My mind held the scent of cedar and wine. I felt the touch of Alaric on my back. That kiss should not exist.

My hands shook.

I reached for the ginger root. I sliced it with jagged, violent movements.

I was a modern woman. I survived a temporal rift. A hunting net. A fall off a cliff. Even the trial of skill.

I do not accept being a drunken convenience for a tyrant.

"Sophie? You are hurting the ginger."

I looked up.

Martha watched me from the prep table. Her eyes showed concern. She had never seen me like this. In the short time I had been here, I had been terrified, confused, or determined.

But today, I was radiating pure, unadulterated heat.

"I am fine Martha." I said. My voice was tight.

I kept my eyes on the cutting board.

"You are not fine." Martha countered.

She moved closer. Her voice dropped.

"I have never seen you this angry. Your face looks pale. Did something happen in the garden? Did the Alpha... did he threaten you?"

I could not explain a five hundred year mistake.

"The King was drunk." I said.

I focused on the pot of boiling water.

"He was loud. He was difficult. I am simply tired."

I turned back to the stove. I was making a recovery soup. I used bone broth, fresh ginger, honey, and lemon balm. It was a cure for hangover.

It would settle his stomach. It will clear his blood. I dished the liquid into a wooden bowl. I set it on a tray.

"Elspeth." I called out.

The eldest chef hurried over. Her gray hair was tucked neatly under her cap.

I handed her the tray.

"Take this to the King's chambers. Tell him it is for his head. Ensure he drinks it all."

"You are not coming?" Elspeth asked surprised.

"I have stock to skim." I replied.

I didn't look at her.

I watched them leave.

I tried to focus on the steam rising from the pots. I tried to convince myself that I was safe in the kitchen.

Ten minutes later. The peace was shattered.

The kitchen doors flew open. Elspeth ran back inside. Her face pale. Her chest heaving. She was panting hard. She couldn't speak.

Behind her, the other junior cooks looked like they had seen a massacre.

"He destroyed a washbasin. He threw the first tray. He is having fits!" Elspeth screamed.

I frowned.

"Fits? What does that mean? Is he having a seizure?"

"No!" Elspeth grabbed my arm.

"The fits of rage! When the Alpha is angry, he destroys everything in his path. He is yelling."

She lowered her voice. Her eyes darting around.

"Usually, only Lady Elara can comfort him during the fits. She goes in and calms the wolf. But today... he is different."

"What did he say?" I asked.

My heart began to thud.

"He demanded you." Elspeth whispered.

"He threatened to destroy the kitchen if you did not appear."

I stood still. I searched my memory of the history books. My father taught me every legend about Alaric the Tyrant. But he never mentioned these "fits."

It sounded less like a king. It sounded like a man who can't handle his own head.

I grabbed a fresh tray. I dished out a second bowl of the recovery soup. My anger was still there. I walked out of the kitchen. My clogs clicked against the stone floor.

I walked to the royal chambers. Guards stood at the door. They looked afraid. They opened the oak door for me.

I stepped inside. The room was a mess. A chair sat upside down. Broken wood lay on the rug. Alaric stood by the window. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

As the door clicked shut. I saw him freeze. He didn't turn immediately. He smoothed his tunic. He fixed his hair. He adjusted his posture. He was composing himself. For me.

I set the tray on the table. I kept my eyes fixed on the soup. I did not look at him. I felt his gaze.

It was heavy. It was hungry. Usually, I looked at him with curiosity or defiance.He wanted me to look at him. He now craved that look. My silence bothered him.

"What is this?" he asked.

His voice was a raspy rumble. It was still rough from the wine.

"Ginger and honey broth." I said. My voice was flat. Professional.

"It will settle your stomach. The lemon balm will reduce the pressure in your head. Drink it while it is hot."

I moved to step back. I still did not look at him.

"Sophie," he said. He sounded confused. "Look at me."

"I am a chef, Your Majesty. I am looking at the meal."

"Are you well?" he asked. He stepped closer. I could felt heat radiating from his body.

I couldn't help it. My head snapped up. I glared at him.

"Why would you ask if I am okay? After what happened yesterday?"

Alaric blinked. His storm-gray eyes were genuinely blank.

"Yesterday? You brought me soup in the garden. I drank. I remember the moon was bright. Why does that make you look at me with such venom?"

I felt a surge of pure, hot bile in my throat. "So you don't remember? You truly have no memory of your actions?"

"I woke with a headache" he said softly.

"Did you wake on the wrong side of your bed? Or do you want to me to get you a new bed?"

I leaned across the table. My face was inches from his.

I was so angry I forgot he could have me executed.

"You don't remember... muah?" I twisted my mouth into a ridiculous kissing shape.

I held it for a second. My face burning with the memory of his lips on mine.

Alaric stared at my mouth. He looked baffled.

"Muah? What is a muah? Why are you making that sound? Is that how you say you are sick where you come from?"

I straightened up. I wanted to hit him.

"I knew it. I knew he would do this. He harass me. And now he is pretending it never happened. All because he is a King and I am a prisoner." My mind whispered.

Before I could say a word. A commotion broke out in the hall. Shouting echoed through the door.

"I must see him! Move aside!"

It was Elara. I recognized her melodic voice. She was wrestling with the guards. She sounded desperate. She truly believed she was the only cure for his "fits."

Alaric's head snapped toward the door. The vulnerability I had seen a moment ago vanished. His golden eyes flared.

"What is that noise?" He yelled.

The door creaked open an inch.

A guard's face appeared.

"Alpha! Lady Elara insists on entering. She says she is here to provide your comfort."

Alaric turned back to me. His intensity was terrifying. He looked at me. Like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. Like he wanted to devour me.

"I said I would see no one." Alaric's voice cut through the room. "That includes Lady Elara. Tell her to return to her chambers immediately."

I saw Elara's face through the gap in the door. She was frozen. She saw me standing there. She saw Alaric looking at me with a heat she clearly didn't possess. Her face contorted with pure jealousy.

She turned and stomped away.

The room went silent. Alaric turned back to me. He reached out a hand to touch my arm.

I stepped back. I looked him dead in the eye.

"You have no right." I said. My voice was low but steady.

"You have no right to harass me. You have no right to kiss me like I belong to you. I am your chef Alaric. Not your toy."

I turned on my heel and walked out.

I didn't wait for his permission. I didn't look back.

I left the King of Blackwood standing alone in his wreckage.