An Alpha's Forbidden Mate-Chapter 33: Beyond the Palace Walls

Chapter Thirty Three

Days had bled into weeks since the combat trial, and the walls of Tom’s room were starting to feel like a cage. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his palms. His control over his basic traits had sharpened, and his flesh had become as tough as tempered steel under John’s brutal tutelage, but the primal, evolved power he had tasted during the trial remained locked away. Worst of all, his ability to shift was gone—stifled by the oppressive atmospheric domain of this realm.

How am I supposed to take revenge on that bastard King if I can’t even grow out my claws? he thought bitterly. How can I steal the Astex token like this?

A rhythmic knock shattered his spiraling thoughts.

"Who is it?" Tom called out, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"It’s me. Caroline."

Tom sighed, rubbing his face. "What does she want now?" he muttered, but louder he said, "I’m coming."

He pulled the door open to find the Princess standing there. She had traded her stiff, regal gowns for a simpler ensemble reminiscent of the late 20th century—a high-waisted, flared skirt and a soft, tucked-in blouse that gave her a youthful, rebellious air. A playful smile lit up her face.

"Dress up," she commanded. "We’re going out."

Tom leaned against the doorframe, his shoulders slumped. "To where?"

"It’s a surprise," she replied, her eyes dancing.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, truly," Tom said, trying to find a polite way to retreat. "But I’m really not in the mood for a stroll today."

Caroline didn’t budge. She stepped into his personal space, her presence warm and impossibly cheerful. "Come on, Tom. All you do is rot in this room or bleed on the training grounds. You need to breathe the air outside these walls. You just need to feel free, just for an hour."

Her smile was a solar flare—blinding and irresistible. Tom felt his resolve crumble. "Fine. Give me five minutes."

He turned back into the room and pulled out the only clothes that felt like him—the dark blue top and black trousers he’d worn when he first arrived in this palace as a prisoner. As he pulled the shirt on, his fingers lingered on the fabric. Luna had gifted him this. I wonder how she and Dad are doing, he thought, a pang of homesickness hitting him harder than any training blow.

When he stepped out, Caroline tilted her head, scanning his outfit. "Are you sure about those? They’re... a bit different."

"Different doesn’t always mean bad," Tom said, offering a small, tired smirk.

"If you say so," she laughed, taking his arm.

As they slipped out of the residential wing, a shadow detached itself from the pillars. A royal guard watched them disappear before heading straight to the throne room.

"Your Majesty," the guard knelt before the King, who was deep in council with the elders. "Princess Caroline has taken the Pureblood out into the city."

The King paused, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He waved a dismissive hand at the guard. "Let them be." He turned back to the elders, his voice a low, dark chuckle. "If Caroline can keep that boy in her grasp, I won’t have to waste a powerful weapon. Love is a much tighter leash than iron."

The moment they hit the city streets, the world exploded into life. The air was a thick, sensory soup of woodsmoke and oil lamps, curling lazily above the low, huddled rooftops. It was the smell of the medieval world—sharp, dry, and unwashed—mixed with the sudden, heavenly sweetness of fresh bread cooling on bakery racks.

Underfoot, the stones were slick with a slurry of mud and waste, the ground itself seemingly sweating under the press of the crowds. Wooden-wheeled carriages groaned past, pulled by tired horses whose flanks hissed with steam in the cool air.

"Come on!" Caroline laughed, her hand finding his. Her fingers were small and warm, pulling him through the throng of people.

To Tom, it felt like stepping back in time, but to Caroline, this chaos was home. They stopped at a corner where an old man was hunched over a charcoal grill, flipping skewers of seasoned meat that sizzled and dripped fat into the embers.

"You have to taste these," she said, her eyes bright. "How much, sir?"

The old man looked at them, his eyes crinkling into a thousand wrinkles. "Two coppers each. But for such a lovely couple? One copper for the pair."

Tom opened his mouth to correct him, but Caroline didn’t even flinch. She just smiled, handed over the coins, and pressed a hot skewer into Tom’s hand. "Take it."

Tom took a bite, the savory juices hitting his tongue. "Hmm. You were right. These are incredible."

"I told you," she beamed.

If only her father wasn’t the man I had to kill, Tom thought, the meat turning to ash in his mouth for a fleeting second. How great would this be?

"If it isn’t the Princess and her little Beast Slayer," a mocking voice sneered.

A group of boys, led by a tall, arrogant youth named Matt, blocked their path. Matt was dressed in fine silks that looked ridiculous in the muddy street, his face twisted into the classic expression of a low-level bully who had never been told ’no.’ 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"It’s you again," Caroline muttered, her grip on Tom’s arm tightening in frustration.

"Who is he?" Tom asked, his voice going flat.

"Matt. Son of Elder Lothbrok," she whispered. "He thinks he owns the city because his father is the Supreme Elder. Just ignore him."

Tom smirked, looking Matt dead in the eye. "You’re the King’s daughter, yet you don’t act like a spoiled brat. I guess it’s a ’like father, like son’ situation for him."

Matt’s face flushed a violent shade of red. He stepped into Tom’s space. "What did you say, outsider? Say it again."

Tom didn’t lean back. He leaned in. "I said your father acts like a crook, and you act like a thug. Like father, like son."

Matt let out a strangled bark of rage and swung a wild, telegraphed blow. Tom didn’t even shift. He simply pivoted. Matt’s momentum carried him forward, stumbling until his friends caught him by the elbows.

"Well? Attack him!" Matt roared, reaching for his side.

"But Lord Matt," one of the boys stammered, "he’s the King’s guest. He killed the Beast."

"Luck!" Matt spat. "The Beast was old and half-dead anyway. Break his legs. Just don’t kill him."

The boys, emboldened by their numbers and the Elder’s name, unsheathed their claws, the moonlight glinting off the serrated edges. They lunged together.

Tom moved like water. He parried the first strike with a forearm as hard as stone, then spun, catching the second boy with a palm strike that sent him reeling into a vegetable stall. When Matt tried to sneak in a strike with a concealed blade, Tom caught the metal bare-handed.

With a terrifying display of raw strength, Tom’s fingers clamped down. The steel shattered. Before Matt could scream, Tom’s boot connected with his chest, sending him flying backward into the muck.

Tom stepped forward, picking up a jagged piece of the broken blade. Matt scrambled backward on his elbows, his eyes wide with a new, frantic terror.

"What do you want?" Matt shrieked.

"What do I want?" Tom echoed, his voice a low, lethal hum. "You attack me, and then you ask me what I want?"

He flicked his wrist. The shard of steel hissed through the air, thudding into the dirt an inch from Matt’s ear. Matt froze, his face going pale, and then a dark stain began to spread across the front of his expensive trousers. He slumped over, fainting from the sheer shock.

Tom and Caroline burst into simultaneous laughter. It was the first time in weeks the weight had lifted from Tom’s chest. "Clean up this mess," Tom told the other boys, who scrambled to drag their unconscious leader away.

The walk back to the palace was quiet, the air between them charged with a new, heavy electricity. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the hallways of the palace in a soft, flickering amber glow from the torches.

They reached the door to Tom’s room and stopped. The silence grew thick, the kind of tension that makes it hard to breathe.

"Thanks for inviting me," Tom said softly, looking down at her. "I really needed to get out."

"Anytime," Caroline whispered.

She stepped closer, her face tilting upward. Tom could see the reflection of the torchlight in her eyes. The space between them vanished; he could feel the warmth of her breath, and for a moment, the mission, the revenge, and the King didn’t exist. Their lips drifted together, inches apart—

Scritch-scratch.

A stray cat darted between their feet, knocking over a decorative vase with a loud clatter.

They both jumped back, the spell broken. Caroline cleared her throat, her face flushed crimson. "So... I’ll see you later?"

"Yeah," Tom managed, his heart hammering in his ribs. "Sure."

"Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight, Caroline."

He watched her walk away until she turned the corner, a dazed smile on his face. He pushed his door open and stepped inside, only to freeze.

John was sitting in the high-backed chair in the corner, his arms crossed and a dry, knowing smirk on his face.

"Now," John drawled into the darkness. "Wasn’t that romantic?"