SELIN'S POV.
It turned out that living in a gloomy, half-haunted castle wasn't as boring as I'd expected. At least, not once I discovered there were actual people in it.
For days, I'd thought it was just him and that other guy, the one with the silver streak in his hair and the permanent smirk (I'd mentally nicknamed him Smirky). But apparently, there were maids, guards, cooks, and more servants than I could count, all working so quietly you could mistake them for shadows.
They moved through the halls like ghosts, soft-footed, pale, and eerily graceful. But when I smiled at them, they always paused, blinked like they didn't know what to do, and then gave me a small, uncertain nod. It was progress. At least they didn't run away screaming human anymore.
By the third morning, I'd managed to strike up something like friendship, or maybe cautious tolerance, with one of the younger kitchen girls. Her name was Mira, though she said it so softly it sounded more like M'ra. She had a round face, big eyes, and a habit of biting her lip whenever she looked at me, like she was afraid I might explode.
"So," I asked her one morning while sneaking a piece of bread from the counter, "what exactly do you all do here when you're not, you know…being terrifyingly silent?"
She blinked. "We work."
"Right. Of course." I bit into the bread. "And what does the big scary—uh, I mean, your Alpha, do all day?"
Her eyes darted around, and she leaned closer. "We don't ask about the Alpha."
"Got it," I whispered back. "Rule number one: don't talk about the Alpha. Rule number two?"
"Don't talk to the Alpha," she said, glancing toward the hall. "Unless he speaks first."
I raised a brow. "Seems reasonable. But between you and me, he's not that scary."
Mira nearly dropped the bowl she was holding. "You've spoken to him?"
"Uh…" I swallowed my bite. "Once or twice. Maybe three times. It's hard to tell when you're trying not to die."
She just stared, wide-eyed. I decided to stop talking before she fainted.
For the rest of the morning, I helped her with small chores—sweeping, carrying linens, and trying not to trip over my own feet. The castle was massive and quiet, but there was a rhythm to it, a pulse beneath the stillness. And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel entirely useless.
That was, until the Head Maid found me.
I didn't catch her name, but if glares could curdle milk, hers would have turned the entire kitchen into cheese. She had sharp cheekbones, hair pulled into a severe knot, and eyes that made me want to confess to things I hadn't even done.
"You," she said, her voice cool as frost. "The human girl."
"Um. That's me," I said brightly. "Selin. Human girl extraordinaire."
Her expression didn't change. "His Majesty has instructed that you are not to wander about the castle aimlessly."
"Oh, good," I said, half-relieved. "Because I was starting to think I was aimless. Do I get a schedule or something—"
"You will work," she interrupted.
My smile faltered. "Work?"
"You said you could clean, did you not?"
I blinked. "Well, yes, but—"
"Then clean you shall."
She stepped closer, so close I could smell the faint scent of lavender soap clinging to her clothes. "Your duties are to maintain the Alpha's chambers. You will clean, dust, and prepare his rooms as instructed. You will not leave the quarters under any circumstances without permission. Do you understand?"
I stared at her. "Wait—you want me to live there?"
"Your room is already within his chambers. You are to remain there. Always."
"That's…" I trailed off, trying not to sound panicked. "That's a little…restrictive, don't you think?"
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Consider it a privilege. Few are ever allowed to step foot inside the Alpha's quarters. Do not make me regret his mercy."
And with that, she turned sharply and left, skirts swishing like a judgmental storm cloud. I stood there, still clutching the broom, and muttered under my breath, "Well. That went wonderfully."
Mira peeked from behind a doorway. "You're to clean his chambers?"
"That's what she said."
Her eyes widened again. "Only the Head Maid cleans there. No one else is allowed inside."
"Guess that makes me special." I gave a weak laugh. "Lucky me."
But as I carried my new cleaning supplies down the long, echoing corridor toward his quarters, the weight of what she'd said sank in.
Few are ever allowed to step foot inside the Alpha's quarters. So why me?
I told myself it didn't matter. I was just a maid now, a very terrified maid who happened to live in the same area as a dangerous, probably-not-human man. Easy life, really. Still, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.
When I reached the grand doors that led into his chambers, two guards stood outside, tall and silent. They didn't move as I approached, but their eyes—silver and cold, followed every step I took.
I swallowed hard and pushed the door open. Inside, everything was as I remembered it…vast, shadowed, and colder than any room had a right to be. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting faint orange light across the dark stone walls.
I started cleaning quietly, careful not to disturb anything. The place didn't look particularly dirty, but I dusted shelves, arranged books, and pretended not to notice the faint scent that clung to everything…something sharp, wild, and alive.
At one point, I found myself staring out the window. The mountains stretched endlessly below, bathed in morning mist. Somewhere down there, my village was still half underwater. I wondered if the others had found safety.
A sharp laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned. Two maids stood by the corridor's end, whispering loudly enough for me to hear. I hadn't seen them before, both tall, elegant, their skin almost too pale.
"The new girl?" one whispered. "They say she's human."
"Human?" the other repeated, disgusted. "And she's working in his chambers?"
"She must have done something. Or maybe she's his new favorite."
"Impossible. The Alpha doesn't have favorites."
"Then explain why the Head Maid herself gave the order."
I tried to pretend I wasn't listening, but their voices carried easily through the still hall.
"She looks ordinary," one said. "Small. Fragile."
"Maybe that's what he likes," the other giggled. "A little pet human."
I nearly dropped the cloth I was holding. Pet? Seriously? I spun toward them, but they were already gliding away down the hall, their laughter echoing softly.
My cheeks burned. "Pet, my foot," I muttered. "I clean floors, not fetch bones."
Still, their words wouldn't leave me. A human in the Alpha's chambers. It did sound strange when you said it out loud. Even I knew that much. And if the Head Maid's expression meant anything, my little arrangement with the so-called Alpha was already stirring more trouble than I'd realized.
As I went back to work, I couldn't help glancing toward the inner door—the one that led deeper into his private rooms. I hadn't dared open it. Not yet. But part of me wondered if he was behind it now, watching, listening.