The bed was big enough to accommodate three others, but Elias could not sleep. He kept tossing and turning, his mind wide awake, eagerly waiting for the break of dawn. As much as he wanted to kick the man by his side to the floor, he dared not. Prince Rowan was like an obedient child, punctual and well-mannered even in sleep.
"Fuck," Elias cursed, wrapping himself with the duvet. Still, nothing helped. He sighed heavily, tossed the duvet to the side, and stood up.
The moon peeped through the little cracks in the curtains; it was tempting and inviting. He pushed open the balcony door and walked out. It was a sight he could never get tired of.
The Forbidden Court stretched onto the horizon, lights brightening the hidden land.
From the edge, Elias's eyes pierced into the forest. It looked dark and unreachable, but he knew better. It was part of his past—a past he would rather not revisit. Elias let his thoughts ponder.
Deep down, he was hurt. He felt betrayed, not only by the pack and his lover, but also by those he called family. He had expected them to come calling, to search, but nothing.
The figure on the bed stirred, then his eyes flickered open. He turned, and there stood his consort, all wrapped in the cold embrace of the nightlight. From behind, he could feel his pain, his distress, but Prince Rowan dared not move.
Elias felt a burning gaze, but no one was there as he turned. Rowan was still very much fast asleep, his breathing even.
"I would have sworn someone was watching," he sighed heavily, then turned back to the moon.
"Like a bird with bright colors, I feel trapped in a cage too big, yet not free enough," he lamented. But now, his tired body begged for rest. The tossing continued until the early hours of dawn.
It wasn't until past nine when a maid knocked on the door.
"Consort Elias."
Elias stirred, his body reluctant to awake, but his mind fought harder.
"Come in," he answered, then sat up.
The door creaked open, and four figures walked in. Laura, Prince Rowan's personal maid, smiled warmly and bowed.
"Your Highness, this is Sonia and Kim," a maid and a guard stepped forward. "They are at your service," she announced, and the figures bowed.
"Good morning, Your Highness," they greeted.
Elias sat still, his mind refusing to digest anything. He turned to his side, and the space was long, empty, and cold. Laura followed his eyes, and her smile grew wider.
"The Prince stepped out for his morning routine. He will be back soon, so you get to meet the rest of the royal family."
Elias nodded. "Okay."
He turned to a man who stood stone cold; his eyes carried no emotions, and his hands settled on his sword, very alert.
"He is Blake, the Prince's personal guard," Laura introduced.
Elias felt the scrolls in his head loosen. Personal guard! he pondered.
"I am his personal guard… that's the contract I signed," he added.
Laura was at a loss for words. It was not her place to say more, so she remained quiet.
"Dismissed," he ordered and watched the two walk out. Sonia walked to the bathroom to prepare for his bath, and Kim stood by the door.
Elias felt as if he should punch the wall. His mind was going crazy, his fists were folded, and his jaw was clenched. He did not need to wait long before the door creaked open, and Blake pushed the prince in.
"You," Elias hissed, anger rushing through every vein within him. He walked up and held the Prince by his collar. Blake's hands instantly went to his sword, but Rowan dismissed him.
"To think I felt bad for you the first time we met. I thought you needed my help, but now I see it was all but a well-planned act." His fingers tightened around his collar, but Rowan held his hand and stood up.
Prince Rowan turned to the staff; his piercing gaze was enough to have them quietly exit the room, slamming the door behind them.
"I can explain," Rowan said, but Elias was not ready for an explanation.
"Why did you do it? You don't need a personal guard, so why would you play my life like it's some game?" he roared, his body trembling.
Rowan stepped forward. Every step was a resounding warning. He inched closer, and Elias refused to back away. Their eyes met, and emotions burned within them.
"I gave you a title, protection, and a second chance. Don't insult me with talks of betrayal." Rowan snapped.
"You should be grateful I chose you over everyone else. If not, your pack would have made you their next meal."
Elias smiled faintly.
"Choose me?" He laughed cruelly. "I am not some damsel in distress who needed saving, your highness," Elias snapped. Rowan leaned closer.
"That's hubby for you." His eyes beamed with mischief, which only angered Elias more.
"I did not want this fate. Death would have been better. But now I am trapped in a marriage founded on lies and deceit."
He turned his back, but his body was swiftly pulled, his hand tackled behind him, his body swayed backward, and Rowan's fingers tightened around his slender waist.
Elias stared into the ancient eyes, which beamed with cruelty, yet something strange.
"So what if I lied? You're mine now, and there is no escaping this cage," his smile grew wider.
Elias's eyes stung with hot tears. His hand hurt from the twist, but he refused to back out.
"I would rather die than be your pawn," Elias sneered.
"You should get used to it. I love my birds, pretty and punctual." Rowan straightened him up, then pulled him closer, close enough to have his words wrapped around his ear, like a tempestuous blanket.
"Don't keep me waiting," he added.
Elias watched his departing figure, and his body collapsed to the floor. Never had he felt so weak and humiliated. He was a Beta, a soldier who fought for his people and his lover—but now he was nothing but a pretty bird caged for royal entertainment.
But that fate he refused to accept.
"Your bath is ready, Consort," Sonia announced.
The word consort was a dripping reminder. Elias got up and walked in without a word. He did not want to be disturbed, hence he shut the door behind him.
Lying in the bathtub and letting the warm water seep into his skin, his mind devised plans and resolutions.
"This can't be my fate," he sighed heavily. "A loveless marriage, pawn in political schemes, and a man who would rather see me dead than alive… No, I refuse this fate." He chuckled bitterly.
"Every game needs more than one player…" his lips curled. "It's showtime."