Claimed by My Mafia Alpha King Chapter 90

Irina’s POV

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The warrior. The one in the second row.

Three days had passed since I’d seen him from the terrace. Three days of turning it over in my head, trying to place him, trying to figure out why the sight of his silhouette had hit the way it had.

I hadn’t said anything to Nicolas.

What would I have said? *I saw soone who looked familiar during drills. I can’t tell you who. I can’t tell you why. But I have a bad feeling.* He’d ask questions I didn’t have answers to. He’d probably lock back in the dical wing "just to be safe."

So I said nothing.

And I kept thinking about it.

---

Nicolas had given permission to walk the grounds.

Not the whole grounds—not yet. But the inner courtyard and the gardens closest to the residential wing. Two guards followed whenever I went out, keeping their distance but always there. Nadia had cleared for "light activity." Walking counted.

I took advantage.

I spent an hour outside every morning now. Sotis more. Sitting on the stone bench near the rose beds, letting the sun hit my face. Walking slow loops around the fountain. Nothing ambitious. Just—being outside.

It was helping.

The nausea was still bad in the mornings, but it passed faster when I was moving. The exhaustion was still constant, but the air helped. My skin had color again. My hands had stopped shaking when I reached for things.

Small things. Good things.

But every ti I stepped into the courtyard, my eyes drifted to the far archway. The one that led to the training yards.

I never went closer.

I told myself it was because Nadia wouldn’t approve. Too much walking, too much exertion. But the truth was simpler.

I was afraid.

---

The Iron Thorn warriors were here.

Nicolas had confird it when I’d finally asked—casually, over dinner, pretending I was just curious. A few dozen had chosen to join his forces. They’d been integrated into the training rotation for the past two weeks. They lived in the barracks on the east side of the grounds. They ate in a separate ss hall. They had their own schedule.

"Why?" he’d asked, watching my face.

"Just wondering."

He hadn’t pushed. But I’d seen the way his eyes had lingered. He knew I wasn’t telling him sothing. He just hadn’t decided yet whether to ask about it.

I was counting on him not asking.

Because the truth was—my father’s family had fled. Nicolas had told that himself. The house was empty. They’d run before he’d arrived. So the n from Iron Thorn, the ones who were here now, should all be strangers.

Except.

Except I’d seen that silhouette. That stance. That particular way of holding a sword arm. And sothing in my body had recognized it before my brain had.

I didn’t know what that ant.

I was trying very hard not to find out.

---

It was mid-morning when I went outside.

The sun was high. Warm but not hot. The kind of day that made being alive feel like a decision instead of an accident.

I settled on the bench near the fountain. The guards positioned themselves at the two entrances to the courtyard, far enough to give space, close enough to see . I’d stopped noticing them most of the ti. Which was probably the point.

I pulled my knees up. Tucked my feet under . Closed my eyes and let the sun do its work.

For a few minutes, I let myself not think about anything.

Then I heard them.

Voices. Young. Excited. Coming down the path from the servants’ quarters.

I opened my eyes just as three of them rounded the corner.

Maids. All young—maybe sixteen, seventeen. They were walking close together, heads bent toward each other, talking in rapid whispers punctuated by muffled giggles. One of them was clutching the arm of another, laughing so hard she was practically bent over.

They didn’t see at first.

Then the one in front looked up. Spotted on the bench.

She froze.

The other two slamd into her back. The laughing stopped instantly. All three of them stared at with eyes that had gone very wide, very fast.

"Oh—" The first one recovered first. Dropped into a hasty curtsy. "Miss Irina. We didn’t—we didn’t see you. We’re so sorry—"

The other two scrambled to follow. Curtsies. Dipped heads. The specific posture of servants who’d just been caught doing sothing they weren’t supposed to be doing.

"It’s fine," I said.

They didn’t move.

"Really," I said. "It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong."

The one in front—the boldest of them, clearly—straightened up slowly. She was the shortest, round-cheeked, with freckles across her nose. She gave a nervous smile.

"We didn’t an to disturb you, miss."

"You’re not disturbing ."

"We just—we were on our way to—"

"You don’t have to explain."

She stopped. Bit her lip. Glanced at her friends. They were still frozen, still staring at like I might bite.

I suddenly felt ridiculous.

I was eighteen. I was barely older than they were. And they were looking at like I was the queen herself.

Which—I supposed—was technically what I was.

I pushed that thought away.

"What were you laughing about?" I asked.

All three of them flushed.

It was so imdiate, so uniform, that I almost laughed. Their faces went pink in a matter of seconds. The bold one glanced at her friends again. One of them made a tiny squeaking sound that might have been mortification.

"Nothing, miss," the bold one said quickly.

"Nothing?"

"Just—girl stuff."

"Girl stuff."

"Yes, miss."

I looked at them. At the three red faces. At the way they were trying very hard not to look at each other because it would make them laugh again.

"You can tell ," I said. "I won’t tell anyone."

They hesitated.

The one on the right—the tallest, with a long braid—finally broke. She couldn’t hold it in anymore.

"The new warriors," she blurted. "The ones from—from the other territory. We were talking about—"

She stopped. Realizing, maybe, that "the other territory" was *my* territory. Her face went from pink to crimson.

"Oh gods," she whispered. "I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t an—"

"It’s fine." I almost smiled. "You were saying?"

"They’re just—" The bold one cut in, clearly trying to rescue her friend. "They’re very—um. They’re—"

"Handso," the third one said. Small. Barely audible.

All three of them exploded into stifled giggles.

This ti I did smile.

I couldn’t help it. Sothing about the absolute normalcy of it—three teenage girls blushing over cute soldiers—hit in a place I hadn’t expected. It felt so *young.* So simple. The kind of conversation girls were supposed to be having at their age.

The kind of conversation I’d never had.

I’d never giggled about a boy with anyone. Not once. At seventeen I’d been in a cell. At sixteen I’d been cleaning blood off my father’s floors while Maxim watched and laughed. At fifteen—

I didn’t want to think about fifteen.

"Really," I said. "That’s what this is about?"

"Yes, miss," the bold one said. She’d relaxed a little, seeing I wasn’t angry. "They’re all so—we’ve never seen so many new faces at once. And so of them are—well. You know."

"I don’t, actually."

"They’re nice to look at," she said. Frankly. "That’s all."

The tallest one nodded vigorously. "There’s one with these eyes—they’re green, but a different green than the king’s. More like—like moss. You know?"

"Like moss," I repeated.

"And there’s the one with the scar on his jaw," the third one chid in, gaining courage. "He doesn’t talk much but when he does, it’s—"

"Don’t," the bold one warned her. Then, to , apologetic: "She has a thing for quiet ones."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"Oh!" she said. "Miss Irina—did you know?"

"Know what?"

"There’s one of them who looks like you!"

The world went very quiet.

The other two maids were laughing at sothing the bold one had said, but their voices faded to background noise. I couldn’t hear them anymore. All I could hear was the maid’s voice, still bright, still innocent, still completely unaware of what she’d just said.

"Looks like...?" I repeated.