Page 20 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“Maya understands better than most what you’re going through. She had to adjust to being a shifter, too.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Would you like to see more of the palace? Or would you prefer to rest?”
I take his hand without hesitation. “Show me.”
The palace is overwhelming—vast and filled with more people than I’ve seen in years. Erik keeps close to my side as we walk, explaining things in his deep, calm voice. People bow to him as we pass, their curious eyes lingering on me before quickly looking away.
“Why do they do that?” I ask after the fourth person bows.
“I’m the king’s brother,” Erik explains. “I used to be king, actually, while Griffin was missing. It’s habit for them.”
I remember the scientist calling Erik a “deposed king.” The thought surprises me. Erik doesn’t look how I imagine a king would. He’s too...real. Too solid and unpretentious. But there’s something in the way he carries himself that speaks of authority, of power worn comfortably.
We enter a large courtyard, the afternoon sun warm on my face. The space is filled with men and women moving in coordinated patterns, weapons flashing in practiced strikes. Training.
“These are our soldiers,” Erik explains. “I command them.”
I watch, fascinated, as they spar and drill in pairs and groups. Their movements are precise, disciplined. Nothing like the chaotic violence I’ve known.
Erik’s attention is caught by something across the yard. “Excuse me a moment,” he says. “Can you wait here? I won’t be long.”
I nod, and he crosses to speak with a man who looks older, more weathered than the others. I lean against a stone pillar, content to observe from a distance.
After several minutes, Erik removes his shirt and steps into one of the training circles. My breath catches. I’ve never seen a man’s body this way—as something to be admired rather than feared. His muscles move under his skin with fluid grace as he faces off against a younger soldier. They begin to spar, their movements almost like a dance—controlled and powerful, but without malice.
I can’t look away. Each strike, each dodge and counter show the incredible strength and control Erik possesses. No wonder my wolf submitted to him in the forest. He’s magnificent. Powerful but restrained, dangerous but disciplined.
As I watch, entranced, a woman approaches the edge of the circle. She is striking, with dark hair pulled back in a tight braid and a confident stance that marks her as a fighter. She watches Erik with open appreciation, calling out suggestions and encouragements as he spars.
When the match ends, she steps forward, offering Erik a cloth to wipe his face. He takes it with a smile, and they fall into easy conversation. She touches his arm casually, laughing at something he says, and stands closer than necessary.
Something hot and uncomfortable twists in my stomach. I don’t like the way she looks at him, the easy familiarity between them. I don’t like how she makes him smile, how she touches him without hesitation.
The feeling confuses me. I have no claim on Erik. He’s my protector, my rescuer, but nothing more. Yet, watching this woman with him makes me want to bare my teeth, to growl low in my throat.
It isn’t until the woman places her hand on Erik’s bare chest, still talking animatedly about something, that I recognize the feeling burning through me.
Jealousy.
I’ve never felt it before, never had anything worth being jealous over. But there it is, sharp and insistent, making my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin.
Erik glances up and sees me watching. Something in his expression shifts. He says another few words to the woman and steps away from her touch, moving back toward me with purpose in his stride.
“Sorry about that,” he says, pulling his shirt back on. “Duty calls, even when I’m trying to show you around.”
“Who is she?” I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
Erik follows my gaze to the dark-haired woman, who is now talking to another soldier but still watching us. “That’s Elina, one of my lieutenants. She leads our reconnaissance teams.”
“She seems...familiar with you,” I say carefully.
A flicker of something passes across Erik’s face—surprise, maybe, or amusement. “We’ve worked together for many years. She’s a friend.”
“Oh.”
She’s alone now, her expression blank, and she begins walking toward us. She flings her arm around Erik’s neck when she reaches his side. “You’re supposed to be training us, not babysitting.”
I feel like the words are meant to wound, but they mean nothing to me.
“Elina, this is Fiona.”
