Alpha King's Caged Mate

Chapter 1 Alpha King Is Choosing A Wife

I would never forget that day—the day of my trial, the day my world collapsed.
The man I had once loved sat high upon the throne, his expression carved from stone. A guard snarled behind me before shoving my shoulder. My knees slammed against the marble floor. Pain shot through me like lightning.
“Evelyn Caddel,” he said, his voice like thunder, his dark eyes filled with venom.
“As the Alpha King of Hescor, I declare you and your family guilty of treason. Your noble titles are revoked, your lands forfeit, and your honor erased. You will suffer the harshest punishments the laws of this kingdom allow.”
Then he descended the steps of the throne.
He stopped before me, his hand reaching out. Those once-gentle fingers now felt as cold as iron. He tilted my chin up until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
He leaned in close. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“I told you, Evelyn. You’d regret choosing the wrong man.”

The sun had already slipped beyond the horizon by the time I stirred. Morning had long since passed, and with it, the wake-up bell for maids. A jolt of panic shot through me as I realized it. I scrambled from his bed quickly and rushed into the washroom.
The dress I had worn last night was a ruin of silk and lace, but I clutched what remained and threw on the usable pieces. Taking a quick glance at the man sprawled comfortably on the bed, I gritted my teeth and shut the door before hurrying into the hallway. My steps faltered from the soreness in my legs, and the skin on my shoulders prickled from his bite, but I didn’t dare slow down.
I didn’t need to imagine how furious the head maid, Mrs. Porter, would be if I was late for roll call. And of course, she wouldn’t care that the Alpha King was the reason. Mrs. Porter never listened to excuses. She had always told us that no one cared about our little grievances in this palace.
I rushed through the quiet corridors, slipping into the changing room just as the other maids had finished dressing. Stripping off the ruined garment, I quickly throw on a clean uniform.
As I toss the shredded fabric into a hamper, I caught my reflection in the mirror.
Red marks spread across my neck and shoulders. The skin burned as I lifted a finger to touch it.
The Alpha King had been savage last night. He always was when he returned from a long journey. There would be no foreplay, no flirtation. He would toss me onto the bed like a beast and take me like one.
But last night, he’d been crueler than usual. I remembered how hard he bit into my shoulder when I refused to let out a shameful sound as he commanded. He was angry—I could tell—but I didn’t know why. Maybe something had vexed him during his travels. Or may be simply enjoyed tormenting me further, as he’d done ever since he seized the crown and killed Jack—his half-brother, the crown prince, and my husband.
Two years ago, King Theodore died during a hunting expedition. After weeks of mourning and a kingdom in limbo, my father – Lord Steven Caddel, Theodore’s most trusted Beta – secured my marriage to the Jack. Our wedding was held on my eighteen birthday. It was supposed to be beautiful and blessed, except Cole then stormed in and shattered everything.
The War of Princes began that day.
It was a merciless, bloody affair. Brother against brother. Kingdom against itself.
In the end, Jack fell, killed and burned by Cole’s loyalists. My family – along with every noble who had pledged fealty to Jack – was dragged to court and subjected to a brutal trial.
It had been an entire year since that trial – a year since he stripped me of my nobility and reduced me to a maid. A year since I had been separated from my parents and little sister and confined to this suffocating palace.
My job was like the other maids’, except for the extra “night service.”
He had made it painfully clear that it was my duty to satisfy him whenever he wanted—and to endure whatever he wished to vent upon me. And if I dared to fight back, he’d threaten me with my family, who had been exiled to a barren island for lifelong labor. “You do understand I can order them all to death with a flick of my finger,” he had warned me the first time I snarled at him in defiance—when he ordered me to strip.
So instead of clawing at him or baring my teeth, I had bent. I had obeyed. I had knelt on that vast bed as he tore my dress, yanked my hair, and forced me to forget I had once been anything more than his toy.
That was my punishment. My penance.
The clock in the hall struck, snapping me back to reality.
I didn’t have time to cover the marks as I raced through the halls as fast as I could. But when I reached the assembly room, Mrs. Porter was already there. Her ever-slightly-lifted chin turned toward me as I skidded into place, breathless, and ducked my head. “You’re two minutes late,” Mrs. Porter said, tapping her pocket watch with a disapproving glare.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Porter,” I murmured.
I braced for more, but she merely inclined her head for me to join the line.
She cleared her throat. “You may have heard that the Alpha King has returned from his grueling inspection journey, during which he quelled riots and fought valiantly for this kingdom. His dedication to Hescor knows no limits. We, too, must work three times as hard to reflect that devotion.”
I stifled a yawn as her voice droned on. Mrs. Porter never spared an opportunity to flatter Cole. Most people didn’t, not after he seized the throne. Even those who had once been close to Jack now sang praises for the new king. They either wanted favor or feared meeting a fate like mine.
My exhaustion blurred her words. It wasn’t until Elsa nudged me that I realized Mrs. Porter had stopped speaking. She was staring directly at me.
“I trust I don’t need to remind you all,” she said, voice sharpening, “that regardless of the families you were born into or the lives you once led, you now belong to His Majesty. Your freedom is his. Your attention must be entirely devoted to his comfort and well-being. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Mrs. Porter,” the maids echoed.
“Evelyn Caddel,” she snapped, eyes locking on me. “You will clean my parlor after the morning call. And you are not permitted to eat breakfast. This is your punishment for tardiness.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. My fists clenched at my sides. I had to dig my nails into my palm to swallow the retort burning on my tongue. Mrs. Porter despised me. Everyone here did. They believed it was me who caused the War of Princes and plunged the kingdom into darkness – a shameless seductress who had tangled sheets with both heirs.
Muffled snickers rippled among the maids. Mrs. Porter quickly silenced them and spoke again.
“Now, with the Selection approaching,” she resumed, voice once again formal and clipped, “we must serve with unmatched enthusiasm. The ladies will begin arriving soon. Each will choose her personal maid from among you…”
A hum of excitement spread through the group. I caught Elsa’s eyes light up with hope like many of the others.
“Selection? What selection?” I whispered, nudging her lightly.
“The Luna Selection,” Elsa whispered back, glancing at Mrs. Porter to ensure she wasn’t watching us. “It seems His Majesty is finally choosing a wife.”

Chapter 2 She Served In His Bed Last Night

EVELYN
I couldn’t stop thinking about the announcement of the Luna Selection as I scrubbed the floor of Mrs. Porter’s parlor.
After the morning roll call, Elsa had whispered more details to me. She was the only maid who still showed me a shred of kindness, though I doubted it would last. She was new here, and in a few weeks—or days—she’d likely come to loathe me like the rest.
“Jessica served at the welcoming banquet yesterday,” Elsa had said. “She told me the Dowager Queen made the announcement right in the middle of it—said she’d already sent invitations to all the eligible ladies. And apparently, one of them arrived at the palace for the Selection just last night.”
Cole was turning twenty this year, and at that age, most kings in history had already fathered their first heir. But Cole’s harem remained empty. He had no consorts, and the title of Luna Queen still went unclaimed. Whispers had it that the lords and ministers had been submitting petitions constantly, urging him to take a queen.
Perhaps that was why the Dowager Queen could no longer sit idly by. The Luna Selection, a time-honored tradition in the Hescor Empire, was typically held when a king ascended the throne without a Luna.
“What did the King say about it?” I had asked Elsa.
She had shrugged. “Nothing. I guess he just accept it. Jessica said he sat there and downed a glass of wine after the Dowager Queen finished her speech.”
A tightness had clamped down on my chest like a vice. I hadn’t even known what I had expected. I had felt stupid for asking.
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Elsa had said, looking hopeful. “The ladies will be choosing maids, and if we’re picked, no more peeling potatoes or scrubbing floors! That’s a win for us.”
I could hardly share Elsa’s optimism. It wasn’t just that I doubted any high lady would choose me to be her personal maid—it was that the Luna Selection, as far as I knew, had never been as blissful or promising as it sounded. It was often a brutal contest of power among the noble Houses.
Though it was called the Luna Selection, there weren’t many choices of females. Tradition and the kingdom’s standards dictated that a proper Luna must come from one of the five Great Houses: Caddel, Crawford, Fox, Hart, and Madden.
Well, now that my family had been demolished, there were only four.
The eligible ladies would move into the palace and stay there until the final Luna was chosen. During their stay, each of them would be assigned personal maids and taught how to please the King in every conceivable way.
And may ladies and their personal maids, as the history had recorded, had died from mysterious reasons during the Selection, either poisoned or murdered by nameless killers, or executed by order of the Alpha King for some supposed offense.
My body shivered at the memory of reading those historical accounts.
The door flung open, and Mrs. Porter walked in. She scanned the room before her eyes landed on me.
“That’s enough,” she said. “Go get some food before you faint. Then trim the roses in the garden. I want that thicket neat and clean before lunch. Understand?”
Mrs. Porter never failed to assign me the hardest jobs.
“Yes, Mrs. Porter.”
As I rose to my feet and complied with a nod, she added.
“Don’t go thinking you’ll ever be a high lady again—or gain the King’s favor by your nasty little service. Always remember who you are now, Evelyn.”
I wanted to tell her that I was already painfully aware. That was why I endured their mockery and bore their humiliation. But I said nothing. I left the room with the obedience beaten into me by a year’s worth of “education” in palace service.
My stomach was groaning as I made my way down the hallway to the kitchen. I hadn’t eaten since before the Alpha King summoned me to his chamber last night.
As I hurried past the grand hall, faint voices slipped through its ajar doors.
I recognized them immediately—the Circle of Gossip. The maids who spent more time whispering than working.
“Evelyn served in the King’s bed again last night,” Jessica’s voice echoed.
“What’s there to envy, Jess?” Melanie sneered. “The Alpha King is just using her. Once he’s bored, she’ll be tossed aside like the trash she is.”
“What if she gets pregnant?” Jessica asked. “What if she carries his child?”
“Pregnant?” Daniella laughed. “As if His Majesty would let a filthy slut like her carry his heir. Don’t forget—she’s a criminal.”
My nails dug into my palm so hard I felt the sting of broken skin. I should walk away. I’d heard it all before. Ever since my family fell, gossip and slander had become routine. I had learned to ignore it.
But then Elsa’s voice stopped me cold.
“What do you mean by criminal? What did she do?”
“Little Elsa, so naïve,” Melanie said. “Her name is Evelyn Caddel. Ring any bells? She’s the daughter of the Great Traitor. Her brother tried to kill the Alpha King. And get this—she was originally betrothed to the third prince—our Alpha King now—but she betrayed him and married his older brother.”
“Some say the War of Princes started because of her. But I don’t get it—she’s so dull and lifeless. How could anyone find her interesting in bed?” Jessica added.
“Maybe she saves her energy for chamber,” Daniella said in a hushed, mocking tone. “Heard she was passed around by the jailors in the Cell. Probably learned a few tricks from those filthy dogs.”
“Oh, Your Grace… oh, oh, ohhhh…” she moaned exaggeratedly, triggering a chorus of laughter. “Her father is the Great Traitor, so she’s the Great Slut. Like father, like daughter.”
I told myself to leave. I told myself that I’d regret it if I didn’t.
But this time, my feet wouldn’t obey. And instead of fleeing like a cornered rat, I shoved the door open.
The laughter died instantly. The four turned and stared, stunned.
Daniella gulped audibly under my gaze, though she still lifted her chin in defiance.
“What—?” she began, but I lunged forward and slapped her across the face before she could finish.
Her cheek reddened instantly. She clutched it, wide-eyed.
“How dare you?” she snapped.
“You don’t understand what it means to gossip about the Alpha King while shirking your duties?” I said coldly. “Do you have any idea how many spies Lady Madden has planted in the palace, listening for even the faintest whisper against His Majesty? Do you know how desperately they’re looking for a chance to impress the King?”
I lied. I knew nothing about spies, and it seemed unlikely anyone would waste such resources on trivial maidservant gossip. But the words hung heavy in the air, enough to intimidate them.
Daniella’s lips quivered. She hesitantly glanced toward Melanie and Jessica, who stood frozen, their faces pale. Elsa looked down, her eyes avoiding mine. Her lips pressed into a frown as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as if to hide her shame.
“It’s only a joke, Evelyn.” Melanie said with a nervous laugh, reaching out to touch my arm.
I stepped back and stared at her coldly. “Then I don’t share your sense of humor. Perhaps next time, mind your tongue—unless you’re keen on losing it.”
I turned on my heels and strode toward the door. Just before I left, I my glance briefly went to Elsa. She still didn’t look at me. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
A pang of hurt shot through me.
I should have known better. Mockery was familiar. Hope, however, was foolish.

Chapter 3 You'll Have A Wonderful Time Together

COLE
“Your Majesty.”
A firm series of knock shattered the perfect sleep I’d managed to find for the first time in weeks. I rolled onto my side, reaching for the other half of the bed. I expected the brush of soft fingers that would tug the coverlet over my ears and shield me from reality’s persistence.
But my hand met only cold linen.
She was gone.
“Your Majesty, I have something to report,” came Flynn’s voice again—steady, unyielding, always so damned punctual.
A groan rumbled from my chest as I sat up, dragging a hand over my face. My ever-dutiful Beta—and closet friend—clearly lacked the basic skill of reading a room. Or in this case, a morning after.
I threw on a shirt and stalked toward the door. When I yanked it open, Flynn stood tall and statuesque in the corridor, not a hair out of place.
“Do you not require sleep, Flynn Hart?” I drawled, stifling a yawn. “Or should I remind you that we returned from a month-long trek through hell only yesterday—and were then subjected to an excruciating banquet as the final insult?”
Flynn dipped his head with infuriating neutrality. “I slept well last night, Your Majesty.”
With a grunt, I turned toward the washroom, flicked on the faucet, and splashed my face. Cold water licked across my fingers, down my neck. In the mirror, my gaze caught on the scratches across my collarbone—angry red trails carved by Evelyn Caddel’s nails when I’d bitten her shoulder and refused to let go, even when she cried out.
“I’ve received a new finding regarding the attack and Lord Crawford’s disappearance,” Flynn said behind me.
I turned with a frown as Flynn stepped forward and offered a small object in his palm.
A crest—worn, but unmistakable. A griffin with wings unfurled, talons clutching a blooming rose.
It was Jack’s old sigil.
“You think his remnants were behind the ambush?”
Flynn inclined his head. “Possibly. But all the attackers are dead. We’ve no solid proof yet.”
I closed my fingers around the crest, letting the metal bite into my skin. “Keep the investigation active. Tell Addison to send spies into the noble Houses. Discreetly. I want to know if any of them are involved.”
Flynn’s brow furrowed slightly; he seemed taken aback by my command, but he said nothing. “Yes, Alpha.” He stamped a fist over his chest.
The sigil burned against my palm.
Jack had been dead a year, but his legacy still festered like rot beneath the skin of this kingdom. Riots, whispers, empty gestures of rebellion—but this... this was no act of grief. This was methodical. Surgical. A coordinated strike: the ambush on Crawford land, the ransacking of the House, the abduction of Lord Frank.
Whoever orchestrated it was a master.
I was buttoning my shirt when Mr. Barrett, the head servant, appeared in the doorway, breathless.
“Your Majesty, the Dowager Queen requests your presence for breakfast.”
I exchanged a look with Flynn as I reached for the doublet slung across the foot of my bed. “What royal delicacy has she arranged for me this time?”
“Her Grace said it’s time for a warm family dining with her dear son in private.”
I quivered a brow, and the head servant added delicately. “The Dowager Queen has also invited Lady Fox.”
Oh, of course she had.
Last night, during the welcoming banquet, my stepmother—my father’s third wife—Anastasia, now the Dowager Queen—had blindsided me with her grand announcement of the Luna Selection, in front of ministers, courtiers—everyone.
She’d framed it so perfectly that to deny her would’ve made me look like the most irresponsible king in Hescor’s history. But clearly, the wellbeing of the country was secondary to her need to secure her status in the palace.
Born a Fox by blood, Anastasia had clawed her way into royalty by marrying my father after the woman who gave birth to me vanished like smoke. Anastasia had borne no child for the King, so she staked her future on Jack and me.
To her, we were never sons. We were pawns.
It almost made me laugh that how she phrased it: “warm family dining”. In truth, I had never been allowed to dine with my so-called family as a prince unless my presences served the state or spectacle. My father hated the sight of me, and Anastasia had always ignored my existence.
I could safely say that the fact I won the war against Jack had stunned her. Before I seized the throne, she had considered me unworthy of even her schemes. She had pinned all her hopes on Jack. So had the court. So had the Kingdom.

The dining chamber gleamed with morning gold, nestled in the heart of Anastasia’s wing. She sat at the head of the long table, poised beside a young woman whose laughter rang with practiced sweetness.
“What’s so amusing?” I asked as I stepped into the room.
The girl stood at once, curtsying gracefully.
Anastasia greeted me with the smile of a doting matron, arms half-extended. I bent perfunctorily, brushing a kiss to the air beside her cheek.
“My son,” she crooned. “Allow me to introduce Lady Skyla Fox.”
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Skyla said, her voice as polished as her posture.
I gave her a brief nod and claimed the only empty chair—one that, unsurprisingly, sat far too close to hers. Anastasia’s intentions were written in the air like perfume.
“We are just recalling the old days. Do you remember? My brother brought Skyla to visit once when you were young,” Anastasia said as servants began placing dishes. “You said she was so pretty, you wanted to marry her when you grew up.”
“Is that so?” I raised a brow at Skyla. She flushed and lowered her gaze.
Anastasia waved a hand, laughing lightly. “Oh, darling, you must have forgotten. Time flies, and you’ve forgot so much about your childhood since you grew up. You even said you want to kiss her in front of everyone.”
My fingers tapped at the base of the glass as I watched her cat-like smile.
My stepmother was masterful at invention, especially when it came to memories that served her intention. She had once proposed erecting a golden statue of herself in the rose garden—a garden originally built for the woman my father despised even remembering in his final days. She had never stepped foot there, save for the day the sculptors arrived. Yet somehow, she’d convinced the court that the garden had always been her gift.
But I would have to play along with her game. I would have to feign falling into her scheme before I struck back—otherwise, I’d be stepping right into the trap she’d laid.
That’s how the court of Hescor worked.
“You are right,” I said with a smile, lifting my glass. “I tend to forget things. A typical problem for a busy man. Allow me to apologize to Lady Skyla for that.”
“That’s why you’ll need a proper queen.” Anastasia said brightly. “One who can ease your burdens. Help you rule the kingdom.” She glanced at her niece fondly before turning back to me.
“And you and Skyla will have time to get reacquainted. Why don’t you show her the gardens after breakfast, before plunging yourself into the day’s arduous work?” she added sweetly.
“The roses are in bloom, and the weather is simply lovely. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time together.”