"If you let people think you're lazy, they'll never suspect you're plotting."
ALARIC POV
The light in the room was the first suspicious thing when I stirred. Which meant I had been still long enough for the sun to creep up, spill through the curtains, and set about toasting me like a particularly stubborn loaf of bread. The knock on the door was hesitant at first, as though whoever was out there feared they might awaken a very cranky Alpha King. They were not wrong. But then came the second knock, firmer, rhythmic, and that was Marcus's knock.
"Your majesty King Alaric?" A pause. "I swear on the moon's blessed light, if you're dead, I'm going to be furious."
I cracked an eye open, groaning into my pillow. "Go away, Marcus. I am conducting a very important… mattress inspection."
The door opened anyway, and Marcus stood there, dark hair slightly mussed from the morning wind, expression frozen somewhere between shock and deep suspicion. He looked at me the way one looks at a wolf lying in the chicken pen, aware disaster is moments away, but unsure whether to scold or grab a spear.
"You're in bed," he said flatly. "It's nearly noon, your majesty."
"And?" I pulled the blanket higher, savoring the rare decadence. "The sun rose without my help. Miraculous."
"I've known you for ten years," Marcus said, walking in. "You do not sleep in. You cannot sleep in. Your entire personality is built on being awake before everyone else and judging them for not being, your Majesty."
"Perhaps I've evolved." I pointed it out.
Marcus sat on the edge of the bed and placed the back of his hand on my forehead. "Excuse me, your Majesty, no fever. Which means either you are ill in some new, terrifying way… or something is wrong."
I swatted his hand away. "What's wrong is that my bed is very comfortable and you've interrupted a historic moment in relaxation."
His eyes narrowed. "Your Majesty, what did you do?"
I said, yawning.
It took another ten minutes for Marcus to drag me out of bed, and he muttered the entire time about 'world-shaking omens' and 'this is how kingdoms fall.' The villa's breakfast table was already set by the time we emerged into the private dining hall. The chef had gone overboard again, fresh bread still steaming, wildflower honey, fruits chilled in mountain ice, smoked venison, and enough tea to drown a small army. Marcus poured himself coffee like a man preparing for a long, dangerous campaign. "I am telling you, if you are getting sick, I need to know. You oversleep, then the kingdom will be up in flames by sunset."
I bit into a piece of bread. "If the kingdom is in flames, it is not because I overslept. It is because someone set it on fire."
Marcus looked heavenward for patience. "You're impossible."
I said, "Relax and eat your breakfast.t" I said, tearing off another piece.
We had barely made it halfway through the late breakfast when the sound of boots on the villa's stone steps broke the morning quiet. The rhythm was military precise, deliberate, and utterly lacking in subtlety. Marcus's head tilted, and I did not even have to look at him to know he was the one responsible.
"You called the royal guard," I said.
He dared to sip his coffee before answering. "You've been making questionable choices lately, and I'd sleep better knowing there's an extra layer of steel between you and, well, everyone, your Majesty."
"Ah," I said dryly, "so my oversleeping has now escalated to a national security concern."
"Don't twist my words, your majesty," He responded hastily.
The doors opened, and in came four members of my guard, armor gleaming, faces set in grim readiness. They bowed and took up positions by the windows and doorways as though we were under siege.
I set my cup down. "Gentlemen, as much as I appreciate the theater, I didn't invite you."
Marcus's mouth quirked. "I did."
"Of course you did," I muttered.
One of the guards, an older wolf named Garron, nodded respectfully. "Orders were to remain until dismissed, your Majesty."
Marcus gave him an approving nod. "You'll be here for a while, then."
I leaned back in my chair. "You're enjoying this far too much."
He smiled faintly. "You are the Alpha King. That makes you the most important asset in the kingdom. If anything happens to you—"
"—the kingdom falls into chaos, yes, I've heard the speech." I waved a hand. "But since you've gone to the trouble of surrounding me with armed wolves, I suppose you can also go to the trouble of getting me something."
Marcus's eyes narrowed instantly. "I know that tone, and that is your 'I am about to ruin your day' tone."
I grinned. "I need intel on Elias Blackthorne."
Marcus groaned audibly, setting his coffee down with a thud. "Absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes."
"That is the Omega we met yesterday, "Marcus huffed.
"All the more reason to know who surrounds him, what he does, and how he does it."
"You mean, dig through his life until you find something you can use against him."
"You make it sound so unsavory."
"That's because it is unsavory."
I tilted my head, studying him. "You're afraid of him."
"I'm afraid for you," Marcus corrected.
I chuckled. "It's not a trap if you know it's there."
"This is bad, Your Majesty," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The guards exchanged subtle glances, clearly trying to pretend they were not listening while listening, and Garron's mouth twitched once, betraying his amusement.
Marcus sighed. "Fine. I will get you your intel. But when this ends badly, and it will, I want it on record that I told you so."
I raised my cup in mock toast. "Consider it recorded."
He shook his head, muttering something about 'lunatics with crowns.'
By the time breakfast ended, the guard had settled in like they owned the place. One was checking the windows, another standing so still he could have been carved from stone. Marcus, of course, looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Anything else you'd like me to do while I'm ruining my week for you, your Majesty?" he asked as we stepped out into the villa's sunlit courtyard.
"Yes," I said with a smirk. "Get some rest. You will need it."
"For?" He asked in shock.
"The trouble I'm about to cause." I pointed it out.
Marcus groaned again, the sound long-suffering and theatrical. "I hate my job."
I clapped him on the shoulder. "No, you do not. You love it, or where else would you get this much entertainment before noon?"
He gave me a sidelong look. "You're assuming I survive to see noon tomorrow."
We walked on, the guards falling into step behind us. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the market waking up, the faint call of merchants, and the laughter of children. It was a good morning, too good. And if Marcus thought his extra guards would keep me from stirring the pot, well, he had forgotten who I was.