Claimed By the King’s Gamma novel Chapter 23

The stable door groans open, and our steps are hesitant, our shadows flitting against the wooden walls of the stables when I find Ivy sitting on top of an old wine barrel that has been turned upside down.

The room, dense with the smell of hay and horses, suddenly feels tighter, more constricted when I see the saddened look on her face. They haven’t told us what has happened, only that we can spend a few minutes with her and wish her happy birthday. I’m so confused… I thought we were safe here.

Gannon, whose gaze remains hardened, acknowledges our presence with a brief nod. He stands, his tall figure casting a long shadow, and murmurs a warning, “Don’t be long; I don’t want to be dragging you to the cells for disobeying the king.” His voice is cold and filled with anger. I have never seen him look angry.

Clarice, her fingers trembling slightly, is the first to approach Ivy. She holds a frosted cupcake as if it’s a lifeline. Yet, it’s Ivy’s gutted expression that draws me in. Her ebony hair, usually vibrant and full of life, lies limp against her pale skin. Her cerulean, blue eyes, usually shimmering with excitement at seeing me, are shadowed with despair and confusion.

“We can’t stay long; Gannon is right; the king is on the warpath, but I couldn’t let you go without wishing you happy birthday,” Clarice tells Ivy, placing the blue cupcake in her hand. Clarice lights it with a match, and I stare at the flickering flame.

“You’ve been baking,” Ivy asks me, and I glance down at my uniform.

Shaking my head, the weight of our predicament hits me anew. “No, I just spilled the bag on the counter before I came down here. Clarice made a cake for you,” I admit, my voice shaking. A cake, such a simple pleasure, feels out of place amidst the palpable tension.

It’s not just the cake or the stable, it’s the unspoken reality that binds us. The chains of servitude, of being mere pawns in a kingdom that’s never truly been ours. But for a split second, we both had hoped we’d found a home here. Ivy, despite being the king’s mate, is now condemned to these stables, away from the luxury of status she barely had a chance to grasp. Now if a queen has been placed here, what chance do I have—we have? We might have been better off with our fate decided by our old Alpha.

“Well, I had a cake made, but I couldn’t carry it down,” Clarice tells her sadly.

“You should have seen it, Ivy. Clarice did a good job. She spent all day making it. It’s so pretty, better than the ones we used to make at the orphanage, it…” I trail off before frowning.

“You enjoy it then,” Ivy smiles encouragingly, but that won’t be the same thing without her; it was made for her. Ivy’s longing gaze drifts toward the blue cupcake as Clarice places a candle on it before lighting it, its tiny flame flickering brightly.

“Blow it out and make a wish,” Clarice tells her. Ivy blows the candle out without excitement or light in her eyes. I know she only does to please Clarice. I was so excited to help Clarice, and it was all for nothing. I smile sadly and kiss her knee, giving her hand a squeeze from where I sit beside her.

“What did you wish for?” Clarice asks, a teary smile on her face.

“I wished to be free,” Ivy tells her, and a choking whimper leaves my lips.

Such a simple wish, laden with so many complex emotions. The pain of our shared history as slaves, the injustice of it all, wells up. “Don’t,” I choke out, tears threatening hearing her speak those words.

“Don’t say that,” I whisper. Anything but that, she can’t wish for that. This was supposed to be a fresh start.

“I think it’s a good wish,” Clarice says, glancing at me, startled.

“Not where we come from. The only freedom rogues get is in death,” I tell her. I know precisely what Ivy means by those words. Clarice stares at her, shocked before grabbing her face in her hands.

“You wish for anything but that. Do you hear me? I will not watch my queen die. I have buried enough of them,” Clarice says before stalking out. I watch her go before turning back to Ivy.

“Uh ah, can’t let you do that?” Liam tells me, and I grit my teeth as he walks me toward the guards’ quarters.

I peer up over my shoulder at him as he keeps forcing me in the opposite direction. “Then can you ask Damian if I can stay with Ivy?” I ask him, and he sighs, steering me down the next corridor.

“Gannon is with her. She will be fine,” he says, and I stop.

“Abbie?” he says, and I shake my head, but he rolls his eyes, grips my wrist, and drags me along with him. I try to pull out of his grip, only for it to tighten.

“Abbie, if you go barging in there, you will only make things worse. Leave it be and trust that Gannon will look after her,” Liam scolds me as if I am some disobedient child. Truth be told, I don’t mind him. He seems okay, a little eccentric, but I know he cares deeply for Gannon and, unfortunately, the king, who currently is on my hate list.

“What if she gets cold down there?” I wonder aloud.

“Gannon sent guards to get firewood. Dustin will take her blankets. For now, you need to go to bed,” he says, stopping at my door. He opens it and motions for me to go inside. “In ya go, don’t make me tuck you in,” he warns me. Tears prick my eyes as I step toward my door.

“And don’t think of trying to sneak out. Gannon asked me to watch you. I will be right outside this door, Abbie. Trust me, you won’t get far,” he tells me, and I glare at him.

“But by all means try; I love me a game of cat and mouse, and I could use the entertainment,” he chuckles, shutting the door, and I sigh, moving toward my bed.