ISOLDE'S SECRET WORLD

The morning sun spilt through the high windows of the pack house, casting a golden glow on the polished wooden floors. Isolde moved quietly through the grand halls with a woollen duster in hand. The grandeur of the alpha’s residence never ceased to amaze her, though she rarely had time to truly take it in. Each corner of the house reflected power and wealth, with carved archways and furniture polished to a gleaming finish.

But none of it mattered to Isolde. Her eyes always found their way to him. As she dusted the shelves in the corridor leading to the council room, her thoughts drifted to Kaelen. He was the embodiment of everything she admired, strong, confident, and untouchable.

She had seen him command a room with just a glance, his presence so imposing that even the bravest warriors hesitated to challenge him.

Isolde sighed softly, her movements slowing. She knew it was foolish, this quiet obsession she harboured. She was just a maid, a speck in the grand scheme of Kaelen's world. Still, she couldn’t help but steal glances whenever he was near, her heart fluttering in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

Isolde’s days were filled with chores. She scrubbed floors, polished furniture, and prepared the guest rooms for visitors who often came to see the alpha. The work was exhausting, but it gave her moments to observe the world she felt so distant from.

As she passed the training grounds, her steps slowed. Kaelen stood at the centre, towering over the young warriors who sparred under his watchful eye. His voice carried over the field, sharp and commanding.

“Your stance is weak,” Kaelen barked, gesturing at one of the warriors. “If you lose your footing, you’re dead. Again!”

Isolde paused behind a tree, peeking out just enough to watch him. She marveled at the way he moved, powerful and precise, as if every step was calculated.

Her mind wandered to the stories she’d overheard from other pack members. Tales of Kaelen’s victories in battle, his cunning strategies that outwitted rival alphas, and the respect he commanded even among enemies. He was a leader born of strength and instinct, and Isolde couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

But alongside her admiration came the sting of reality. Kaelen belonged to a different world, a world of power and privilege. She could never compete with the strong, beautiful women who circled him like moths to a flame.

Women who matched his stature, who could stand beside him as equals.

Isolde clenched her fists, the rough fabric of her apron crumpling in her grasp. What was she compared to them?

Just a maid, invisible and insignificant.

Her mind often replayed moments when Kaelen had crossed her path, small encounters that meant nothing to him but everything to her.

There was the time she’d watched from a distance as he helped an elder pack member during a winter storm, carrying firewood to their cabin without a word of complaint. Or the fleeting moment when their eyes had met across the dining hall, his piercing blue gaze locking with hers for a heartbeat before he looked away.

And then there was the story she’d overheard about him the week before, how Kaelen had single-handedly fought off a rogue wolf that had threatened a family on the outskirts of the territory. The way the pack member had described it, Kaelen had been relentless, his wolf’s power unmatched. Isolde hugged the memory to herself like a treasured secret.

That afternoon, Isolde found herself in the main hall, carrying a tray of polished goblets for the dining room. She moved carefully, balancing the tray in both hands.

As she rounded the corner, her heart stopped. Kaelen stood just a few feet away, speaking with Dain. His voice was low and commanding, though she couldn’t make out the words.

In her distraction, Isolde’s foot caught on the edge of the rug, and she stumbled. The tray wobbled precariously before tumbling to the ground, the sound of clattering metal echoing through the hall. She froze, horror washing over her. Dain glinted in mild annoyance, but Kaelen’s piercing gaze pinned her in place.

“I-I’m so sorry, Alpha,” Isolde stammered, her cheeks burning as she dropped to her knees to gather the goblets.

Kaelen stepped forward, his boots stopping just inches from her trembling hands. For a moment, she thought he might reprimand her. But instead, he crouched down and picked up one of the goblets, his movements slow and deliberate.

“You should be more careful,” he said, his voice firm but it was not unkind.

Isolde’s breath caught. His tone wasn’t as harsh as she’d expected. She glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something softer than the cold, calculating stare he usually wore.

“Thank you, Alpha,” she whispered, clutching the tray to her chest as she stood. Kaelen straightened, his expression unreadable. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

He turned and walked away, his cape billowing behind him. Dain followed, sparing her a brief, puzzled glance.

Isolde stood there for a long moment, her heart pounding.

She replayed the interaction in her mind, clinging to the brief kindness he had shown.

Later that night, Isolde sat by the fire in the servants’ quarters, her hands resting on her lap. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Why had he helped her? Kaelen wasn’t known for his gentleness. He was fierce, commanding, and unyielding, and yet, in that fleeting moment, he’d shown her a sliver of kindness.

But hope was a dangerous thing. She couldn’t let herself believe that Kaelen saw her as anything more than a servant. Still, her heart betrayed her, clinging to the possibility that there was more to him than the cold, ruthless alpha the world saw.

Isolde sighed, staring into the flames. Her place was here, among the shadows of the pack house. Kaelen’s world was beyond her reach, a world of power, ambition, and strength. And yet, she couldn’t stop the spark of hope in her heart, no matter how much she tried to snuff it out.