The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate-Chapter 14: Royal Bitches

"Elara, the last two weeks with you here have been—"

Hale crumpled it up. Then threw it into a potted plant.

"Elara, your beauty rivals the dawn and I would very much like to—" Crumpled.

"To the Lady Vaelor—" Crumpled harder.

"El—" Absolutely not.

"From Hale"

That was it. He handed it to the omega before he could spiral into another draft. The omega took it with the dead-eyed patience of a man who’d been standing in that corridor for fifteen minutes watching a six-foot-seven warrior lose a fight with a piece of parchment.

He knocked twice on the fitting room door. Elara opened it.

"From Beta Ironholt, My Lady."

Elara took the box and sat down.

She read the note. Read it again. Turned it over to check for more. There was no more.

✦✦✦

Two weeks. That was how long it took for Serena to become Hyran’s protégé. His word, not hers. In practice, it meant dawn-to-dusk workdays. No breaks. No complaints.

No one had lasted this long before without crying, quitting, or being dismissed.

But today was their day off. They’d been pampered since morning.

For the last twelve minutes, Serena had been holding her arms out and they were now going numb.

She stood still atop a low pedestal in a private fitting chamber. Elara sat nearby on a velvet stool, already fitted.

Her gown was deep blue silk, and she wore earrings Hale had given her. Technically, an omega had delivered it.

Unbeknownst to her, Hale was still pacing the corridor next door overthinking the entire gesture.

"He won’t be able to take his eyes off of you," Serena said, glancing at Elara with a grin.

Elara had been told to relax by at least six people today. Wrong thing to say.

"He’s giving mixed signals," she snapped.

Serena lifted both hands in surrender. "It was a compliment." She regretted it instantly. Cass, the seamstress, caught her arm with a pin.

"Two words, Serena. He wrote me two—"

The door slammed open cutting her off mid-sentence. Everyone jumped.

Elara pinched the bridge of her nose. "I swear on every god in Skardos, if that’s another delivery with no context—"

It was not a delivery.

A voice cut through the room, sharp with amusement.

"I see they’ve decided to dress Skeletor in silk," Princess Agnes drawled from the doorway.

"A charity gift from whoever you’re spreading your legs for, no doubt. Enjoy wearing the cheapest dress in the room."

Serena’s eyes widened. She had assumed Agnes was merely a convenient figurehead and Queen Bellatrix as the real source for the rumors.

Agnes stepped inside as if she owned the chamber, her own gown a fitted sweep of pale gold silk, obsidian beads stitched so densely they drank in the light.

She smiled as she approached, slow and deliberate, like a predator assessing prey.

"They’ll stare at you because you look uneasy," she said, voice light but dripping disdain. "You know you don’t belong here, and so does everyone else. But even harlots have their days."

Serena turned her head towards her. "Have I done something to offend you, Princess?"

Agnes’s expression hardened. "By existing. And by going after what’s mine."

Elara’s eyebrow twitched. Not a full raise. Just enough to say oh, so we’re doing this.

"I’m not after anything," Serena said evenly. "We’re guests here, by King Tiberon’s grace. If there is a misunderstanding, I would like to clear it."

Agnes’s mouth twisted. "You can drop the act. That sweet humility routine might fool everyone else, but not me. You’re after Dexmon — my betrothed — and you don’t even bother to hide it."

Serena blinked, genuinely taken aback. "There must be some mistake. I’ve spoken to Prince Dexmon only a handful of times."

"You bonded with his dragon," Agnes hissed, voice cracking on the last word. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Serena’s brows knitted together. "I didn’t realize that was his dragon. If it was, I’ll stay away. It wasn’t my intention—"

Agnes moved in a blur and the rest never left her mouth.

SMACK.

The sound cracked through the chamber like a whip.

Serena stumbled from the pedestal, hitting the floor hard. Blood welled at her lip, a bruise already blooming across her cheek.

Elara was on her feet instantly.

Her fists clenched at her sides, shoulders squared, spine rigid with the kind of still fury that preceded violence. She reached for Serena, helping her steady to her feet.

Serena’s hands shook from Agnes’s words, not the slap. That she could handle. She’d taken worse from people with less manicured nails. But the information that came with it? That was the hit that landed.

Bonded to Prince Dexmon’s dragon. Bonded without him saying a single word about it. Without anyone saying a word at all.

She did not fully understand what bonded meant, only that it was not small.

She had tried to ask Hyran more than once. Each time, he vanished like smoke the moment the question left her mouth.

Elara stepped in front of Serena, placing herself in between.

Her voice came out clipped.

"Careful, Agnes. If what you’re saying is true, then you just struck the woman bonded with the Prince’s dragon."

Both seamstresses froze mid-movement.

Agnes’s eyes dragged over Elara before sliding to Serena, the faint gold still clinging to her hair like dying embers.

"Oh, forgive me," she said lightly. "I forgot you both came from the same kennel. It is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins."

Serena stepped out from behind Elara to face Agnes head-on.

"Strange how dogs still recognize snakes."

Agnes’s eye twitched, face reddening. Before she could respond, the door opened again.

Queen Bellatrix entered.

Her gaze swept the chamber, pausing briefly on Serena, then Elara, before settling on Agnes.

Her expression softened into something warm.

"Exquisite," she purred. "As always. A perfect daughter-in-law."

Agnes preened, straightening as the praise landed exactly where it was meant to.

"Unlike some," Agnes added lightly. "Though I suppose even swamp water can be made presentable with enough silk."

Elara stepped forward before Serena could even inhale.

"Queen Bellatrix, how lovely of you to check on us. We will be ready for the ball."

Bellatrix did not acknowledge her and her eyes remained fixed on Agnes. Her lips curled with faint amusement, as though Elara were furniture that had learned to speak.

"When servants speak out of turn in Viremont," Bellatrix asked softly, "what becomes of them?"

"Their tongues are cut out," Agnes answered with a smile, savoring the words.

Silence followed.

Elara and Serena kept their expressions neutral. They weren’t sure how much Queen Bellatrix knew of their past and they absolutely did not want Princess Agnes to find out.

If the truth surfaced, that Drakenfell harbored them knowing they escaped from Viremont, to prevent war, they would be sent back. It would be the logical move and both knew it.

It could also cause Drakenfell trouble given the hospitality and pack membership they were afforded.

As the seamstresses adjusted the hem, momentarily blocking Serena’s view, Agnes stepped closer. Too close. Her fingers pushed into the back of Serena’s gown.

A slice.

She slipped a small blade free from her bracelet and cut clean through the internal boning and stitching along the spine.

Not enough to tear all the way immediately. But enough that the tension would give way the moment Serena moved wrong and the back would split.

Bellatrix laughed softly, Agnes joining her, and together they swept from the room.

The door closed.

Serena exhaled slowly and stepped down from the pedestal.

"Cass, I think I will wear the second dress."

Cass blinked. "The... other one?"

"Yes. The crimson. The one Gamma Sterling gifted."

That dress. The one Gavriel boldly gifted.

"Thank you for your help with this fitting," Serena continued. "I apologize that the first dress was ruined. It was beautiful, and I would love to keep it and have it repaired, if that is possible."

Cass straightened, professional pride flaring. "No matter. I am happy to help," she said, then added firmly, "You are very kind, Lady Silverveil. Of course, we will repair it."

The seamstress hesitated, fingers flexing at her apron. "It is... quite... bold. Are you sure?"

Bold was an understatement.

"Yes. He gifted it, and it would be rude of me not to wear it."

Technically true and strategically devastating. Serena’s favorite kind of sentence.

Agnes may have sabotaged her first choice. But Serena didn’t come unarmed.

Elara flashed a wicked grin.

"Let’s rattle a princess and a queen, shall we?"