Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 1

Elara’s POV

“After tonight, everything changes.”

I whispered it to myself like a prayer late in the evening as I crossed the courtyard toward Gareth’s private garden. The moon hung low and heavy, painting the stone walls in silver. Tomorrow was my coming-of-age ceremony. Tomorrow was the Moon Prayer Rite. And tomorrow, I would finally hear him say the words I’d waited so long for.

A wedding date.

My heart hammered with each step. The hem of my worn dress dragged against the cobblestones, but I didn’t care. I’d scrubbed my hands raw in the kitchens today, polished every candelabra in the east wing, and mended several of Isolde’s gowns — all without complaint. Because none of it mattered. Not the aching fingers. Not the whispered insults from the servants who thought a foundling had no business dreaming of a prince.

Gareth loved me. He’d said so. And love, I believed, was stronger than blood.

The garden gate was unlocked.

Strange. He usually bolted it from inside when he wanted privacy. I pushed it open, and the hinges groaned softly.

Moonlight flooded the path between the rose hedges. The air smelled sweet — too sweet — like crushed petals and expensive perfume that wasn’t mine.

I heard laughter first. Low and intimate.

Then I saw them.

Gareth stood beneath the old willow tree, his broad shoulders blocking most of the figure pressed against him. But I could see the golden hair spilling over his arm. I could see the pale, slender fingers curling against his collar.

And I could see the necklace.

The Nightfire ruby pendant — the one Gareth had shown me in secret, the one he’d promised would be mine on our engagement night — glittered against Isolde’s throat like a drop of blood.

My stepsister.

My legs stopped working. The world tilted sideways.

“It suits you far better than it ever would have suited her,” Gareth murmured, adjusting the clasp at the back of Isolde’s neck. His voice was velvet-soft. The voice he used only with me. Or so I had believed.

Isolde tilted her chin up and smiled. “Of course it does. Rubies were never meant for mongrel blood.”

A sound escaped me. Something between a gasp and a whimper.

They both turned.

Gareth’s face went white. His hands dropped from Isolde’s shoulders as if her skin had burned him. He took a step back, fumbling with his collar, straightening it with trembling fingers.

Isolde didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She simply looked at me with those pale blue eyes, and her smile widened.

“Dear sister,” she said. “You’re early.”

I couldn’t speak. The ruby pendant caught the moonlight, and each flash felt like a blade dragged across my ribs.

“Elara—” Gareth started.

“How long?” My voice came out cracked. Barely a whisper.

Isolde laughed. A delicate, musical sound. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. Months, if you must know. Mother and Father arranged it all quite carefully. Did you really think a prince of the Nightfire bloodline would bind himself to someone who hasn’t even awakened her wolf? You can’t even shift, Elara. You’re practically human.”

Every word landed like a fist. Because she was right. My wolf had never stirred. Not once. In a world where blood determined everything — rank, power, worth — I was nothing. A foundling with no lineage. A charity case the Baron and Baroness had taken in to polish their reputation.

And I had been fool enough to believe I could be loved despite it.

“That’s enough, Isolde.” Gareth’s voice was strained. He stepped toward me, reaching for my hand.

I pulled back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Elara, listen to me.” He caught my wrist. His grip was tight. Too tight. I could feel my bones grinding together. “This doesn’t have to change anything between us. You can still be part of my life. My closest confidante. My—”

“Your what?” I stared at him. “Your mistress?”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t deny it.

Something inside me snapped. I wrenched my arm free with a strength I didn’t know I had. His fingers left bruises — I could already feel them blooming under my skin.

“You’re a coward,” I said. “Both of you.”

Isolde’s smile vanished. “Watch your tongue, low-blood sister. You should be grateful we kept you around this long.”

I ran.

Through the garden. Through the courtyard. Up the narrow servants’ stairway to the room I’d slept in since I was a child. It was barely larger than a closet. A cot, a washstand, a cracked mirror. But it was mine.

Or I thought it was.

The door was already open. The Baron and Baroness stood inside, and between them, draped over the back of the chair, hung a gown I had never seen before. Ivory silk, embroidered with gold thread. Fit for a bride.

But it wasn’t my size. It was Isolde’s.

The Baroness looked up when I entered. Her expression was as flat and cold as a frozen lake.

“Good. You’ve heard, then.” She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on the gown. “This simplifies things.”

“You knew.” My voice shook. “You knew about Gareth and Isolde this whole time.”

The Baron didn’t even look at me. He was examining the embroidery, rubbing the gold thread between his thick fingers like a merchant appraising goods.

“Of course we knew,” the Baroness said. “We orchestrated it. A daughter of House Valois bonded to a prince of the Nightfire bloodline — that is a match worthy of our name. You were never part of that equation, Elara.”

The words hit like ice water. “Then why keep me? Why let me believe—”

“Because you were useful.” The Baron’s voice was flat. Final. “A placeholder, nothing more than a castaway. Someone to keep the prince entertained while we finalized the arrangements.”

“I won’t bless this. I won’t stand there tomorrow and pretend—”

The slap came fast. The Baron’s open palm cracked across my cheek with enough force to send me to the floor. My skull rang. Stars burst across my vision.

“You ungrateful little bastard,” the Baroness hissed from above me. She grabbed the collar of my dress and hauled me toward the door. “We fed you. Clothed you. Gave you a roof when no one else would. And this is how you repay us?”

She shoved me into the hallway. I hit the opposite wall hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

“Don’t come back to this room,” she said. “Don’t come back to this house. You are nothing. You have always been nothing.”

The door slammed shut.

I sat on the cold stone floor. My cheek throbbed. My wrist ached. The hallway was dark and empty, and for the first time in my life, I had nowhere to go.

I don’t know how long I sat there. Long enough for the tears to dry. Long enough for the pain to harden into something else — something hot and sharp, lodged behind my ribs like a burning coal.

I made it to the back street behind the castle on sheer instinct. The cobblestones were slick with evening dew. The air tasted like smoke and hay.

“Ela!”

A dark-haired figure came running from the shadows. Brenna. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with worry. She grabbed my shoulders and stared at the red mark on my cheek.

“What happened? I saw you running from the east wing — Moon Goddess, your face, who did this to you?”

The words poured out of me like poison from a wound. Gareth. Isolde. The necklace. The Baron’s hand. The Baroness’s words. All of it. Every ugly, humiliating detail.

Brenna’s face went from shock to fury. Her grip on my shoulders tightened.

“Those snakes,” she breathed. “Every last one of them.”

“It’s over, Brenna. Everything I thought I had — it was all a lie. They used me. All of them.”

“Then stop letting them.” She grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her. “Listen to me, Ela. Tomorrow, they expect you to stand at that ceremony like a good little ghost. Silent. Obedient. Broken. Is that what you want?”

“What else can I do? I have nothing. No name, no rank, no wolf—”

“You have yourself. And tonight, there’s a Royal Masquerade Ball in the capital. Half the nobility in the empire will be there. Lords, knights, Alphas from every territory.” Her dark eyes gleamed. “You don’t need Gareth. You don’t need the Valois name. You need to walk into that ballroom and show them you exist.”

“Brenna, that’s insane. We’d never get past the gates—”

“I know a way in. Trust me.” She pulled me to my feet. Her hands were steady. Mine were still shaking. “You can stay here and let them destroy you. Or you can come with me and find out who you really are.”

The coal behind my ribs flared brighter. I looked back at the castle — dark windows, locked doors, a life built on lies.

Then I looked at Brenna.

“Let’s go.”

Brenna grinned wide. “That’s my Elara! Come on, back to my place to get ready. Tonight, we show them who the brightest pearl really is!”