Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother Chapter 5

Elara’s POV

At exactly eight o’clock on Monday morning, I arrived at the top floor.

“Miss Elara. Right on ti.”

Claire stood at the entrance, exactly as composed as the day she’d interviewed . Sa silver-streaked hair. Sa cool, appraising eyes. Not a thread out of place.

I smoothed my dress and tried to look like my stomach wasn’t doing sorsaults.

“Good morning, Madam.”

She offered the faintest smile — barely a curve of her lips — and turned on her heel. “Co. I’ll show you your workspace.”

I followed her down a corridor lined with oil paintings of stern-faced wolves in ceremonial armor. The palace was even more overwhelming than it had been during the interview. Every surface glead. Every corner slled of cedar and old paper and sothing darker — leather, maybe, or iron. Power lived in these walls. You could feel it pressing against your skin.

Claire pushed open a heavy oak door and stepped aside.

The Royal Archives.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves of dark redwood stretched across every wall, packed with leather-bound volus, rolled scrolls, and sealed docunt cases. A massive desk sat in the center, polished to a mirror shine. Behind it, mounted on the wall like a declaration, hung the Nightfire family crest — a snarling wolf wreathed in black fla — buffed and gleaming under the chandelier light.

I caught my breath.

“This is your domain now,” Claire said. She ran a finger along the edge of the nearest shelf. Not a speck of dust. “His Majesty’s private records, correspondence, territorial docunts, and treaty archives. Everything passes through this room.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“It’s a graveyard of failed ambitions,” Claire corrected, but there was warmth underneath her dry tone. “Archivists before you. The last one didn’t last long at all.”

My confidence wobbled. “Didn’t last long?”

“His Majesty is currently away on border affairs. He won’t return until the weekend.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “That gives you a few days to familiarize yourself with the archive arrangents before he arrives. I suggest you use every hour.”

I nodded quickly. “I will.”

“Good.” She gestured to a chair behind the desk. “Sit. Get comfortable. I’ll walk you through the record-keeping thods.”

We spent so ti going over the arrangents. Claire was thorough, precise, and patient in a way that made think she rarely had soone who actually kept up. I took notes. Asked questions. She answered every one without condescension.

By mid-morning, I had settled into a rhythm. The work was familiar — not so different from Lord Harwick’s library, just grander in scale. My hands knew what to do with old paper and faded ink. My mind knew how to sort and cross-reference and find the thread connecting one docunt to the next.

At ten o’clock, I was deep in a stack of territorial boundary records when the archive door opened.

“Ella!”

Brenna’s voice — hushed but urgent — cut through the quiet. She slipped inside, cheeks flushed, slightly out of breath.

I stood up imdiately. “Bren? What are you doing here? Is Valerius—”

“He’s fine. He’s perfect.” She grabbed both my hands. “The academy just sent word. They have an opening for the aptitude interview — today. This morning. If we go now, he can test in before lunch.”

My heart lurched. The academy. The one decent school in the capital that accepted students regardless of bloodline. I’d put Valerius’s na on the waiting list so ti ago, never really believing a spot would open.

“Today? Right now?”

“Right now. Ella, this is the only opening. If we miss it—”

“I just started. I can’t just leave on my first day—”

“You can, and you will.” Brenna’s eyes were fierce. “This is for your son.”

She was right. Of course she was right.

I found Claire in the corridor outside. My palms were sweating.

“Madam — I’m sorry to ask this. I know it’s my first day, and I understand if the answer is no. But my son has an interview at the academy this morning, and it’s the only available slot, and—”

Claire raised a hand, stopping my ramble. “How old is your son?”

“Four.”

“And his father?”

I swallowed. The question I always dreaded. “There is no father. Not — not in any official sense.” My voice dropped. “It was a single encounter. Years ago. During a Moon Prayer ceremony. I never learned his na.”

The silence that followed felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Claire studied my face. I braced for judgnt — the tightened mouth, the disapproving glance, the subtle shift in tone that told you exactly where you stood in soone’s estimation.

Instead, she said, “You raised a child alone while teaching yourself several languages and working for a man who wouldn’t promote you past his own prejudice.”

I blinked. “I — yes.”

“That isn’t sha, Miss Elara. That’s courage.” She nodded toward the door. “Go. Take the ti you need. I’ll hold the fort.”

Relief hit so hard my knees nearly buckled. “Thank you. Thank you, Madam.”

“Don’t thank . Just be back by early afternoon.”

I practically ran.

Brenna had Valerius waiting in the academy courtyard. He sat on a stone bench, legs swinging, wearing the little gray vest I’d nded twice. His dark curls were — for once — sowhat tad, though one stubborn lock sprang free over his forehead.

“Mommy!”

He launched himself off the bench and into my arms. I lifted him, pressing my nose into his hair. Honey. Always honey.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

He nodded solemnly, then leaned close to my ear. “The big kids look scary.”

“You’re scarier,” I whispered back. “You have the frog song.”

He giggled. A sound that could fix anything broken inside .

The aptitude test took place in a sunlit classroom. Brenna and I watched through a window as Valerius was placed with a small group of children his age. An instructor — a woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense posture — guided them through a series of tasks. Problem-solving. Social interaction. Leadership response.

I watched my son.

He didn’t hang back. Didn’t cling to the edges the way I always had at his age. When a smaller girl dropped her puzzle piece, he picked it up and handed it to her, then showed her where it fit. When two boys started arguing over a toy, Valerius stepped between them, said sothing I couldn’t hear, and within monts all three were playing together.

The instructor noticed. I saw her write sothing down. She looked toward the window where I stood and gave a small, approving nod.

After the session, she t us in the hall.

“Your son has a remarkable quality,” she said. “A natural authority. The other children responded to him instinctively — not out of fear, but out of trust. That kind of leadership can’t be taught.” She paused. “You’ve raised him well.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them back. “Thank you.”

“He’s been accepted. He can start next week.”

Brenna squeezed my arm hard enough to bruise. Valerius tugged at my sleeve.

“Mommy, did I do good?”

I crouched down and looked into those eyes. Deep brown, but when the light from the hall window caught them — there it was. That dark-golden shimr. Flecked with spots of true gold, like embers caught in amber.

My chest ached with a familiar, naless longing.

“You did so good, baby.”

At half past one, I made it back to the archives. Claire was nowhere in sight. The room was quiet, peaceful. I settled behind the desk, still glowing from the morning.

Then the transmission stone on the corner of the desk lit up.

A deep red pulse. Once. Twice. Steady and insistent.

I stared at it. Claire had ntioned these — enchanted stones used for direct communication between palace staff and the Emperor’s inner circle. She hadn’t explained what to do if one activated.

I hesitated. Then I pressed my palm against the warm surface.

A voice poured through the stone. Low. Rough. Like gravel dragged across iron. Every syllable carried the weight of soone who had never once in his life been made to wait.

“Claire. The northern border reports are missing from my traveling dispatches. I need them sent imdiately.”

My mouth went dry. Moonlight, who had been dozing contentedly in the back of my mind all morning, snapped to attention. Her presence shrank — not just alert, but cowering. Submitting. Every instinct in her pressed flat against the ground.

Ella, she whimpered. Alpha. That’s — that’s an Alpha.

Not just any Alpha. The raw, crushing weight of his aura bled through the stone like heat from a furnace. My wolf wanted to bare her throat. My hands trembled.

“C-Claire isn’t here at the mont, Your Majesty.” My voice ca out thin. Shaking. “I’m — I’m your new personal archivist. Miss Elara. May I ask who—”

The silence that followed was worse than the voice.

Then it ca — a sound like a thunderclap compressed into a single word.

“YOUR SOVEREIGN.”

The stone rattled against the desk. I flinched so hard my chair scraped backward. Moonlight yelped inside my skull and went completely silent.

“I want Claire in this room the second I return. Not one heartbeat later. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty—”

The stone went dark. Dead. The red pulse vanished as abruptly as it had co.

I sat motionless. My hand was still pressed against the stone. My fingers were shaking.

The archive door opened. Claire walked in carrying a stack of scrolls. She took one look at my face and stopped.

“You answered the transmission stone,” she said. Not a question.

“He — he asked for you. I tried to explain that I was new, and I asked his na, and he—”

Claire set the scrolls down. Her lips twitched. Then she laughed — a genuine, full-throated sound that echoed off the redwood shelves.

“Oh, Miss Elara.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “The last girl who answered his transmission quit on the spot. Walked right out of the palace without collecting her things.”

I stared at her. “That’s not comforting.”

“It wasn’t ant to be.” Her eyes sparkled. “But you’re still sitting in that chair. That already puts you ahead.”

I looked down at my trembling hands. Then at the dark, silent stone.

“I think I just ended my career with my own hands.”