The training ground was still buzzing with whispers as the guards dragged me away. Alaeric hadn't looked at me again. He had simply barked an order to "get the distraction out of his sight" before storming off.
His words felt like a slap, colder than the spear I had just deflected.
"Since you're so 'talented' with your hands," Selene sneered, her fingers digging into my shoulder as she pushed me toward the oldest wing of the castle, "you can spend your time where no one has to look at your pathetic face. If you aren't a water girl, you're a cleaner."
She threw open a heavy, rotted oak door at the end of a dark hallway. The smell of mold, stagnant air, and ancient paper hit me like a physical wall.
"The West Archives," Selene said, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "The 'Dust Room.' Nothing has been touched here in years. You will scrub every floor, wipe every shelf, and stack every scroll. If I find a single speck of dust by nightfall, you won't eat for a week."
The door slammed shut, the heavy iron bolt clicking into place. I was locked in.
I coughed, waving my hand to clear the thick clouds of grey dust dancing in the dim light of a single, high window. The room was massive, filled with towering shelves that reached toward the ceiling. Thousands of scrolls and leather-bound books lay in heaps, forgotten by a pack that cared more about swords than stories.
My heart gave a strange little tug.
I walked toward a pile of parchment, my fingers trembling. I picked up a stray page, blowing the dust off. My eyes scanned the flowing, elegant script. It was a map of the southern borders, dated a hundred years ago.
I didn't reach for the scrub brush. I reached for a book.
Hours passed. I forgot about the hunger in my stomach and the ache in my bruised cheek. I moved through the stacks, my mind sparking to life. I wasn't just cleaning; I was organizing. I knew exactly where the history went, where the maps belonged, and where the old lore of the Lycan curse was hidden.
"What in the Goddess's name are you doing?"
I jumped, the book in my hand nearly falling. Kael was standing in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the light from the hall. He looked at the room, which was already half-organized, and then at the open book in my lap.
"You're... reading?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief.
I quickly stood up, tucking my hands behind my back. "I'm sorry, Beta Kael. I was just... moving them."
Kael walked into the room, his heavy boots silent on the dusty floor. He picked up a scroll I had just labeled. His eyes widened. "This is a high-court script, Alyse. Only the children of Alphas, Betas and Gammas are taught this. How do you know how to read this?"
I looked at the floor, the old pain of my past rising up like a tide.
"My father was the Gamma of the Red Hollow Pack," I whispered.
Kael went dead silent. A Gamma's daughter was high-ranking, almost royalty. To find one serving as a rejected Omega was unheard of.
"He loved me," I continued, the memories flashing behind my eyes. "Before the darkness took our home, he taught me everything. He sat me at his desk and showed me how to read troop movements, how to study the terrain, and how to spot a lie in a scout's report. He wanted me to be his successor."
"Then what happened?" Kael asked softly, stepping closer. "How did the Gamma's daughter end up in a dungeon?"
"My mother died," I said, my voice cracking. "And my father... he remarried. Everything changed the moment she entered the house. My stepmother didn't just want the title; she wanted me gone. She was clever. She slowly turned the pack against me."
I looked at Kael, my eyes burning.
"She made everyone believe I was weak. She made my father forget he ever loved me. She demoted me to an Omega in my own home, forcing me to serve her daughter, Seraphina. She stole my life, Kael. She made me a ghost long before Prince Kayden rejected me."
Kael cursed under his breath, his expression shifting from curiosity to deep, burning anger. "So, you were never an Omega. You were a warrior in training who was stripped of her rank."
"I'm nothing now," I said, looking back at the dusty shelves.
"No," Kael said, his voice firm. He walked over to the desk and picked up a quill, handing it to me. "You're exactly what this pack needs. Alaeric is a brilliant fighter, but he's blinded by his own anger. He's missing the patterns in the rogue attacks.
"He won't listen to me," I reminded him. "He told me I was a distraction."
"He's an idiot," Kael grunted, a small smile touching his lips. "But he's, my Alpha. And right now, he's an Alpha who needs a Scribe who can see the things he can't."
Kael looked around the room again, then back at me. "Forget the floors, Alyse. Selene wants you buried in the dust. Fine. Stay here. But don't clean. Search. Find me the records of the Bloodmoon curse. Find the maps of the hidden tunnels. If you can prove to me that you're the Gamma's daughter I think you are, I'll get you out of this dress and into the War Room."
"And the Prince?" I asked.
"Let him brood," Kael said, turning to leave. "By the time he realizes what you are, he'll be begging for your help."
As the door closed, I didn't feel like a prisoner anymore. I felt like a weapon being sharpened.
I sat back down at the desk and opened the largest book in the room. The golden light in my blood hummed, stronger than ever. My father had taught me how to survive a war, but my stepmother had taught me how to survive a monster.
I was going to use both skills to survive Alaeric Blackthorn.
I turned the page, my eyes scanning the ancient text. I wasn't just an Omega anymore. I was a scholar in a room full of secrets.
And I was going to find them all.