Crawlers

That same day I had delivered food to the generals.

Before Aaron. Before the proposal. Before all of it.

I hadn't known yet how badly I needed a plan.

June was already in the courtyard when I passed.

I almost walked past without stopping.

But something in the atmosphere made me slow.

She stood slightly apart from the other women. Golden eyes moving across the space with the calm precision of someone who had already catalogued everyone present and filed them accordingly.

Then her eyes found me.

I shivered. A hot pressure built low in my stomach.

Crawlers, I remembered hearing. That was what they called the women who thought proximity to the Alpha could bend fate in their favour. June had a name for women like that. A category.

I had just been placed in it.

June had dealt with these women many times before. Those who thought a slip of skin, a sway of the hips, or a whispered promise could earn a place beside the Alpha. She had watched them stumble, fail, or worse, vanish without a trace.

She didn’t need to intervene often. The empire had its own teeth. But occasionally, a rogue spirit required a reminder.

A young maid had lingered too long in the east wing, whispering and glancing toward Kharzak’s private chambers. June had found her before the Alpha even noticed. The girl’s fingers trembled as June approached. Golden eyes locked, steady, commanding, and yet calm. One sharp look, one subtle shift of stance—and the girl knew she had overstepped. She would remember that lesson. And others would watch.

“Proximity without purpose is death,”

June said softly, the words almost gentle.

But the tremor that ran down the girl’s spine told another story. Possession, protection, power—June wielded all three with precision. She didn’t fear the Alpha’s wrath. She feared nothing that could not be controlled. And those who tried… learned quickly that control could sting.

But something in the atmosphere made me slow.

She stood slightly apart from the other women, golden eyes moving across the space with the calm precision of someone who had already catalogued everyone present and filed them accordingly.

Then her eyes found me.

I shivered and a hot pee pressed me.

I kept walking. Head down.

But I felt it — that sharp, assessing look that didn't soften when I looked away. The kind of look that means you have been seen and noted and placed in the category of the King's new playthings.

It seems I have been placed side by side with the crawlers.

I kept walking.

Later I heard it from the corridor outside.

His voice first. Low. "You've waited long enough."

Then June's. Controlled. "I know my place, Alpha."

I was carrying an empty tray back to the kitchens. I didn't slow down. Didn't stop.

But I listened.

The sounds that followed told me everything I needed to know about what happened in rooms like that. Brief. Precise. No warmth in it anywhere.

Then — "Get out."

June's footsteps in the corridor. Sharp. Even. The walk of a woman who has been reminded of her place in a humiliating manner.

She passed me without seeing me.

I was already pressed against the wall, head down, invisible.

Her perfume lingered after she was gone.

That was the day I went to Aaron.

That was the day I decided that surviving this palace wasn't enough anymore.

I needed something more than invisibility.

Because invisibility hadn't protected her.

And it wasn't going to protect me.

I moved silently through the palace, tray in hand. Food for the generals. She knew the routes by now, the schedules, the moments where glances could pass unobserved.

Each step careful, never too fast, never too slow.

Head bowed.

Eyes lowered.

Yet beneath the calm exterior, my mind catalogued every face, every uniform, every glint of metal.

When I entered the generals’ quarters, a sudden shift in the air made me freeze. At the far end of the room, standing over a map, a shadow loomed. My breath caught. The black braid, the broad shoulders, the unmistakable presence. Kharzak.

My heart thundered. Every instinct screamed, every nerve prickled. And yet… I moved as though I had never seen him before.

Every step is careful, rehearsed. The generals’ eyes flickered to the Alpha, then to me.

Kharzak’s dark gaze swept the room. He did not smile.

And then… he paused on me.

Recognition… or curiosity?

He did not reveal which.

My pulse raced. I won't let him see.

Could not let the Alpha King know the truth—that I had seen him before, that I remembered everything about the raid.

The generals took the food, murmuring thanks. I kept my head bowed, careful to avoid any interaction beyond the necessary.

But Kharzak’s presence… lingered. Even now, even at a distance, it pressed on, like a weight I could not lift.

Behind me, I heard nothing.

Only silence.

And the silence followed me all the way down the corridor, through two turns, past the courtyard, all the way back to my room — where I sat on the edge of my bed and acknowledged, for the first time, the true nature of my messed-up life from a royal princess to a slave.

I had walked into that room knowing his face.

And he had looked at me — really looked, with those dark, assessing eyes that missed nothing and forgave nothing — and something in his expression had shifted.

I pressed my hands flat against my knees and stared at the wall and understood, with the slow, cold clarity of someone reading a sentence they cannot unread, that invisibility was no longer an option.

Like I was already marked and didn't know it yet.

We will see how far this protection takes you.

He had seen me.

And the King did not unsee things.