TO SATE AN ALPHA'S FURY

Sophie's POV

The silence at the royal farm was heavy. I laid on Alaric's chest. It was a long moment.

I could hear his heart beat. Just beneath his tunic. It was steady. A powerful rhythm. His hands stayed on my waist. I saw his golden eyes. It reflected the moon.

Our faces were an inch apart. I felt the heat radiating from him. I scrambled to my feet.

"I'm sorry. I thought you would hit the stone." I said.

Alaric stood up.

He brushed off the soil. His face remained calm. He looked at me. In a way that made my skin tingle.

"It is okay. You tried to catch me from falling." Alaric said.

I looked at my shoes.

I tried to find words.

"I just... I did not want you to get hurt. Especially not over a plant."

"You have a strange way of protecting your King, Sophie." Alaric said.

A small smile touched his lips.

"Most people run from my fall. You threw yourself into it."

"I am a chef. We are used to catching falling things before they shatter." I replied.

A guard stepped from the shadows. He bowed low. He handed a small, sealed note to the King.

Alaric broke the wax. He read the words aloud.

"Grand Prince Magnus wants to dine tomorrow. He is my uncle. He is a man of high standards and low patience." Alaric said.

He looked back at me. His eyes were serious again.

"Go to bed, Sophie. You must be rested. I want you to prepare something nice for me and the Grand Prince in the morning. It must be special. Magnus believes the old ways are the only ways. Show him he is wrong." Alaric commanded.

"I will prepare a meal he will never forget." I promised.

"See that you do. Your position depends on the satisfaction of the crown." Alaric said.

I nodded and left. I walked back to the palace. My mind was already a whirlwind of flavors. I did not sleep.

I sat in my small room. I planned the menu. I needed something traditional. With a taste of the future.

The next morning, I entered the kitchen. The sun was not fully up. The air was cold. It smelled of damp stone. I clapped my hands. I got the attention of the drowsy staff.

"Martha, prep the root vegetables. Silas, stoke the main hearth. We have a Grand Prince to feed. The Alpha King expects perfection!" I shouted.

The kitchen came to life. The sound of knives hitting wooden boards filled the room.

I moved toward the central table. I began assigning tasks.

"Martha, I need these greens washed three times. Silas, watch the temperature of that oven. If it drops, the crust will be soggy." I said.

Chef Damien stepped into my path. He held a large carving knife. He looked at me with a sneer.

"Lady Elara told me to make the food for the King and the Grand Prince. She wants the old recipes. She wants blood and fat. Move aside, ghost." Damien said.

I stood firm. I did not blink. I was tired of being pushed around in my own kitchen.

"The Alpha instructed me personally to prepare something special. I am the Chief Royal Chef by his decree. I will do my job. You can assist me, or you can stay out of my way." I said.

Damien laughed. It was a dry, mocking sound.

"You think a few words from the King make you one of us? You are a girl in a costume. Lady Elara knows the heart of this pack. She gave me her seal to lead this meal." Damien said.

"Then we have a conflict of orders." I replied.

"But since the King's word sits above the Lady's, I am staying at this hearth. Go cook your grease on the side stove if you must."

Damien turned to his station.

He muttered. "We will see who the King prefers. Your strange tricks or my tradition. When the Grand Prince spits out your grass, do not look to me for help."

I ignored him.

I worked for four hours. I prepared a dish of breaded poultry. I used a secret technique from my father. I used ground nuts and dried herbs for the coating.

I fried it until it was golden. It was crunchy on the outside. It was incredibly soft and juicy on the inside.

I began to plate the food. I used white ceramic dishes. I arranged the vegetables with precision.

"It looks beautiful, Sophie." Martha whispered. She leaned in to smell the steam. "I have never seen food look like art."

"It has to be perfect, Martha. Everything is on the line today." I said.

Just then, the heavy doors swung open.

The smell of expensive perfume drowned out the scent of my spices.

Lady Elara walked in. She wore a dress of emerald silk. Morgana followed her like a shadow. Elara saw the two different trays.

"Why are there two different meals being prepared, Damien?" Elara asked. Her voice was like ice.

Damien bowed low.

"Sophie insisted on making her own meal, My Lady. I told her your instructions. I told her the Grand Prince expects the traditional feast of the Blackwood. She refused to listen. She said her way was better."

I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped forward. I kept my voice steady.

"The King told me last night to prepare something special. I am following the Alpha's command." I said.

Morgana moved close to me. She was so close I could see the malice in her eyes.

"Why are you looking at Lady Elara while talking? You lack manners. You are a common servant. Lower your gaze when you speak to your betters." Morgana spat.

"I am not looking at her in any way but a direct one. I am answering a question about the King's dinner." I replied.

Elara stepped into my space. She was taller than me in her heels. She looked down her nose at me.

"You are rude. You have guts for a girl with no family. I have seen many like you come and go through these halls. Those who challenge my authority do not last." Elara said.

"The King gave me this kitchen. He gave me the right to cook for him." I said.

"The King is a man of habits. Habits return to the familiar when the novelty wears off." Elara whispered.

She looked at my tray. She looked at the beautiful plates I had spent all morning creating. A cold smile touched her lips.

"It would be a shame if the King was disappointed." Elara said.

She turned to leave.

She did not walk away slowly. She moved with a sudden, sharp jerk. Her heavy silk dress caught the edge of my tray.

She did not stop. She dragged the metal tray with her.

The sound was a deafening crash.

The plates hit the stone floor. The ceramic shattered into a thousand white teeth.

The poultry, the sauce, and the greens smeared across the dirty floor. My work was a ruin of glass and grease.

"Oh! Look at what you have done!" Elara screamed.

She pointed her finger at the mess.

"You are so clumsy. You placed your tray in the path of a Noble. You have no grace. You have ruined the King's floor with your incompetence."

I stared at the floor. My hands trembled. "You dragged it, My Lady. You pulled the tray down."

"How dare you lie!" Morgana shouted.

"You were careless. You tripped over your own feet because you cannot handle the pressure of a royal kitchen."

Elara looked at the hem of her dress. A small drop of sauce had landed on the green silk. She made a face of pure disgust.

"My dress is stained by your filth." Elara said.

She looked at Morgana.

"Come, Morgana. We must go to my chambers for a change of clothes. I cannot stand the smell of this failure any longer."

"Yes, My Lady. This place is beneath you." Morgana said sarcastically.

They walked out. Their heels clicked on the stone like a countdown.

The kitchen fell into a dead silence.

Then, Martha ran to the mess. She dropped to her knees. Her hands shook as she reached for a piece of broken plate.

Martha shouted. Her voice was high and panicked.

"What do we do? Sophie, look at this! It is all gone! The Alpha and the Grand Prince are at the table now. She destroyed the special meal!"