The Alpha and the slave princess

A beautiful liar

Alpha Julian’s POV

I poured a glass of dark whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dying light of the hearth in my room. My hands were steady, but the rage inside me was still humming like crazy.

I could still feel the resistance of that red wool dress as it gave way under my grip. I could still hear the jagged, broken sob she let out when she finally realized that her title meant nothing in this room.

I sat back in my chair, staring at the closed door of the alcove where she was currently hiding.

"You went too far, Julian."

I didn't turn around. I knew the voice. Silas, my Beta and the only man in this pack who dared to speak to me without first baring his throat, stepped into the light. He looked at the shredded remains of the red dress on the floor and then at me.

"She is a Princess," Silas said, his voice level. "Treating her like a common tavern girl in front of the guards... it will make the people pity her. Pity can turn into rebellion if not careful."

"I don't care about their pity," I growled, taking a long pull of the whiskey. It burned, but not as much as the memory of her father’s face. "And she is no Princess. She is the daughter of a rat. A man who sold our nursing mothers to the silver-traders so he could buy silk for his daughter’s back."

I stood up, pacing the length of the room. Every time I looked at Elara, I didn't see a beautiful woman. I saw Gideon. I saw the man who had invited the hunters into our sacred birthing dens. I saw the smoke rising from the pyres of fifty of my kin, all because he wanted a 'peace treaty' that padded his own coffers. If my people pity her after all this, then they prove disloyalty.

"She acts so innocent," I hissed, gesturing toward the alcove. "She sits there with those wide, tear-filled eyes, playing the martyr. She thinks she is so noble, protecting her maid, and whispering about hope. It’s a lie, Silas. It’s all a lie. She’s exactly like him. She’s a performer. She’s fake to the very bone."

"She is also a girl who watched her father die, Julian," Silas countered.

"She is a wolf who was raised on blood-money!" I roared, slamming my glass onto the desk. The glass shattered, shards flying across the wood. "Do you think she didn't know? Do you think she didn't notice the silver coins in their treasury had the scent of betrayal on them? She is a princess! Nothing can pass her by. She enjoyed the life he built for her. She wore the jewels he stole from our dead. And now she wants to play the victim? I will strip every layer of that lie away until she has to look at the monster she actually is."

Silas sighed, stepping over the glass. He moved to the window, looking out at the sprawling territory of the Eclipse. "The Mating Ball is in four days, Julian. The elders are expecting it. The pack needs a celebration after the war." Good! Another discussion I can acknowledge but not accept.

I felt my lip curl in disgust. "Cancel it.”

Silas turned, his eyes wide. "You can't cancel the Mating Ball. It’s the most sacred tradition we have. It’s the night the Goddess joins souls and lets them find their mates. The warriors have been waiting for this for a year."

"I am in no mood to watch a bunch of wolves roll in the grass and claim mates," I snapped. "We are at war. We are rebuilding. I won't have my focus diverted by a glorified dance."

"It's not about the dance, and you know it," Silas said firmly. "It's about stability. The pack needs to see their Alpha supporting the future. They need to see that life goes on. If you cancel this, you look weak. You look... distracted and unbothered."

"Distracted by what?" Unbothered, I can understand.

"By her," Silas said, nodding toward the alcove.

I felt a growl vibrate in my chest. "I am not distracted by that girl. I am punishing her."

"You talk about her constantly," Silas pointed out, his voice annoyingly calm. "You talk about her lies, her eyes, her defiance. You’re obsessed with breaking her, Julian, but be careful. Sometimes when you stare too long into the abyss, it starts to look back. The pack is already whispering. They want to know why the 'Silvermoon Princess' is sleeping in the Alpha's quarters instead of the dungeons."

"She is here so I can watch her!" I stepped into Silas’s space, my height looming over him. "I don't trust her. She snuck into the kitchens today again after I warned her not to. She is already trying to weave her web, trying to find a way to strike back. She is a snake, Silas. A beautiful, lying snake. I’m keeping her close so I can crush her head the moment she bares her fangs."

Silas didn't flinch. "Then bring her to the ball. If you want to show the pack she is broken, show her there. Let them see her in your collar, at your side. It will end the rumors and satisfy the elders."

I hated the idea. The thought of standing in a room full of happy, mating couples with that girl at my side made my blood boil. But Silas was right about the elders. If I didn't hold the ball, the internal politics of the pack would become a headache I didn't have time for.

"Fine," I spat. "The ball stays. But she will be there as a reminder of what happens to traitors. Not as a guest."

"Understood," Silas said, moving toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "Just remember, Julian... her father lied to the world. But you might be lying to yourself."

"Get out," I snarled.

Silas left, closing the door softly.

I stood in the silence of the room, the fire crackling low in the hearth. My eyes drifted back to the alcove. I could hear her now, the soft, rhythmic sound of her weeping. It was a pathetic sound. A weak sound.

I walked over to the alcove door and pushed it open.

She was huddled on the cot, wrapped in the fur cloak I had thrown at her. Her hair was a mess, and her face was puffy and red from crying. She looked up at me, and for a split second, I saw it again, that flash of fire, that deep-seated defiance that refused to die.

"Stop crying," I said, my voice cold. "Your tears don't move me. I have seen enough real suffering to know that yours is just self-pity."

She didn't answer. She just stared at me with those haunted eyes.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "In four days, there is a ball. You will be there. You will wear what I tell you to wear, and you will stand where I tell you to stand. If you drop the act for even a second, if you try to speak to anyone or look for help, I will make what happened to your maid look like a mercy."

She flinched at the mention of the maid, her grip tightening on the fur. "Why do you hate me so much?" she whispered. "I wasn't there. I didn't know what my father did."

"Lie to yourself if you must, Elara," I said, stepping into the small room. The space was so cramped that I was practically on top of her. "But don't lie to me. You knew where all the silver came from. You knew why your borders were never attacked while mine were being turned into graveyards."

I reached down, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at me. Her skin was soft, a stark contrast to the hardness of my soul.

"You are a beautiful lie," I whispered, my thumb brushing against her lower lip. "And I’m going to enjoy watching the world see you for what you really are."

I let go of her and turned to leave, but her voice stopped me at the door.

"What if I'm not lying?" she asked, her voice trembling but clear. "What if you are the one who is wrong? What will you do then, Alpha Julian? When you realize you destroyed an entire pack for a mistake?"

I didn't turn around. I couldn't. Because for one terrifying heartbeat, the conviction in her voice made my own blood run cold.

"I am never wrong," I said, my voice felt cold even to my ears.

I walked out and slammed the door, locking her in. I went to the window and looked out at the moon. Four days. Four days until the Mating Ball and I want it to be over already.