Chapter 2 The King’s Secret

The bucket was heavy. My neck was on fire.

I dragged the scrub brush across the stone floor. My hands were raw and red, stinging from the lye in the soap. Every time I moved my head, the brand pulled. Felt like the iron was still pressed against my skin.

"Scrub harder, Nameless!"

A guard stood by the door. He kicked my bucket. Cold, gray water splashed over my legs. I kept my head down. Looking at him meant crying. Crying meant getting hit.

"Yes, sir." My voice came out broken.

The kitchen was massive. Smelled like roasted meat and expensive wine. Upstairs, the party was still going. I could hear drums. Cheers. They were celebrating the King and his new Queen.

I was down here with the grease and dirt.

I moved to the next stone. My knees ached. My stomach felt weird—tight and pulling. Probably just hunger. I hadn't eaten in two days.

"Leave her alone, Jax."

Soft shoes on the floor. Martha. The oldest maid in the palace. She'd been here since I was born. She set a tray of dirty plates on the table.

The guard laughed. "She's a slave now, Martha. King said she works until sunrise."

"She's a girl, not a mule." Martha's voice was sharp. "Go get coffee. I'll watch her."

The guard grunted and left. The door thudded shut.

Martha moved fast. Reached into her apron and pulled out a small piece of bread. Dry and hard, but it looked like a feast to me.

"Eat. Quickly."

I grabbed it, hands shaking so bad I nearly dropped it. Shoved it in my mouth. Hard to swallow with my throat so dry.

"Thank you."

Martha looked at my neck. Her face went pale. She reached out but I flinched back.

"He really did it." Her voice was barely a whisper. Eyes filled with tears. "He really marked you."

"He hates me." I stared at the floor. "I'm nothing to him."

"You're his mate, Elena. The moon doesn't lie."

"The moon was wrong this time."

I tried to stand. Move the bucket. The second I got up, the world spun. Kitchen walls tilted sideways. The smell of old grease and soap hit me like a punch.

My stomach flipped.

"Elena?"

I tried to breathe but couldn't get enough air. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I reached for the table to steady myself. Missed.

I hit the floor. My head bounced off stone. Everything went black.

When I woke up, I was on a pile of grain sacks in the pantry corner. Dark except for a small candle on a crate.

My head throbbed. I tried to sit up but a hand pressed my shoulder.

"Stay down." Martha.

She sat on a stool next to me, looking terrified. Holding a wet cloth against her nose.

"What happened?" I touched the back of my head. There was a bump but the pain was already fading.

Martha didn't answer right away. Just stared at me.

"You fainted." Her voice shook.

"I'm sorry. I'll get back to work. If the guard—"

"Forget the guard." She leaned in close. "Elena, listen. When you fell, I had to carry you. Had to get close."

I frowned. "So?"

"Your scent." She glanced at the door. Made sure it was locked. "It changed."

I froze. A wolf's scent only changed for a few reasons. Illness. Death. Or...

"No." The word came out strangled. "That's not possible."

"You smell like cedar and smoke now, Elena. Under the wildflowers. You smell like him." Martha grabbed my hands. "You're carrying a pup. The King's heir."

The room felt like it was closing in. I put my hand over my stomach. It was flat. Didn't feel different. But deep down, in that spot where I'd felt the bond, there was a tiny pulse.

It was true.

"He'll kill me." My voice broke. "He rejected me. Called me a mistake. If he finds out I have his baby, he'll think I'm a threat. Seraphina won't let a bastard live."

"You're right." Martha looked grimmer than I'd ever seen her. "If the King knows, he'll take the child and get rid of you. Or Seraphina will make sure the baby never takes its first breath. A King's firstborn is powerful. She won't want your blood on the throne."

Fear hit me. Sharp and sudden. Not for me this time. For the tiny life inside me.

"I have to hide it." I gripped Martha's arms. "You can't tell anyone. Not even the other maids."

"I won't." Martha paused. "But Elena... there's something else."

She pulled down the collar of my dress. Pointed at my neck.

I looked into a small cracked mirror on the crate.

My breath caught.

The brand was gone.

Not gone—but it wasn't raw and red anymore. It was a faint silver scar. Looked weeks old. My skin was smooth. The swelling had vanished.

"That happened in an hour," Martha whispered. "Omegas don't heal like that. Even Alphas don't heal that fast from a King's brand."

I touched the silver X. Should've hurt. Should've been blistering. But it just felt warm.

Something hummed under my skin. My wolf—the one I thought was weak and broken—gave a low, steady growl in the back of my mind. She wasn't hiding. She was feeding on the bond's energy even though it was snapped.

"My wolf." I stared at my reflection. "She's not weak."

"She's protecting the baby," Martha said. "Healing you so you can stay strong for the pup."

I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked different. Not dull anymore. There was a tiny flash of white in the center of the brown.

"I'm an Omega slave." I said it to the mirror. "I have no name. No rank."

I stood. My legs felt strong. The exhaustion was gone. There was something new flowing through me. Quiet, but there.

"But I'm the mother of the next King."

The pantry door rattled.

"Nameless! Get out here!" The guard's voice boomed. "The floor won't scrub itself!"

I looked at Martha. She pushed the bread into my hand and nodded.

"Hide your scent," she whispered. "Rub the old grease on your skin. Cover the smell of the baby."

I did what she said. Smeared the smelly gray grease from the pans onto my neck and wrists. It stank, but it covered the cedar and smoke.

I walked to the door and opened it.

The guard stood there, hand raised to hit me. He looked at my neck and paused. Seemed confused for a second seeing the healed scar, but he was too dumb to think about it.

"Back to work."

"Yes, sir."

I picked up the brush. Got back on my knees. Started scrubbing.

I'd be their slave for now. Take their insults. Live in their dirt.

But I wasn't alone anymore. And I wasn't weak.

I looked up at the ceiling. Toward the room where Valerius was probably sleeping with his new Queen.

Enjoy your throne, Valerius.

I placed my hand flat against my stomach. Still flat. Still silent.

But not empty anymore.

And one day, Valerius would learn that the biggest mistake a king can make is leaving his heir in the hands of his enemy.