The Royal's Mate: Fated to the Cursed One

“Are you blind?” Emma screeched. Before I could apologize, she threw her white shoes at me. They struck my forehead, sending a sharp pain shooting through my head like lightning. The room spun as I stumbled back, clutching my head in shock but she didn’t give me a moment to recover before shouting again. "Can you not see that those shoes are unsuitable for my gown?" She snapped, her words as sharp as her gaze. “I am sorry,” I muttered, kneeling to pick up the shoes, even though she was the one who had asked me to fetch them in the first place. “First, you are cursed, and now you are blind as well?” Emma paused, shaking her head. "You truly are the complete package of misfortune, aren’t you?"” I bowed my head to hide the tears in my eyes, though I couldn’t tell what hurt more—the way she treated me, the gnawing hunger in my belly from eating nothing but crumbs, or the ache from the shoes she hurled at me. But Emma’s lips curled into a sneer, she wasn't done just yet with me. I knew because she has yet to remind me of one more thing. "You know, Father should have simply left you to perish in that forest." Of course, she'd do it at any chance she got. A quick reminder that I was an illegitimate child. I wiped my eyes before the tears could drop. I didn't know what I did to deserve such treatment and it was not just from my own sister and family but from the whole pack. To them, I was a plague, a curse that must be rid of no matter the cost and my only crime was that nobody knew my mother. To everyone in the House of Greyson, my mother was nothing but a myth. So much so that some even believe she never existed—that my father found me as a baby in the West Forest and showed me mercy, but has refused to admit it. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, fighting back the tears as I raised my head. “I’ll get you another.” "Obvioulsy," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as if the mere sight of me was exhausting. Her gaze pierced through me as I stood up and walked to the closet. But before I could open it, the door to her room swung open. Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse… “Why on earth is there such a commotion coming from this room?” Stepmother’s voice was filled with irritation as she walked in. Emma pointed at me with a sharp gesture. “Maybe you should ask the cursed witch you insisted on helping me get dressed, Mother!" Stepmother turned to me with her chin raised and her eyes filled with judgment. She raised an eyebrow and called my name. "Jessica?" My heart began to pound and my body went stiff as her stare made me imagine all the things she could do to me. I knew she could see the fear in my eyes, just as I remembered last night when she had beaten me and then tied me to a pole to freeze to death. Suddenly, she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Unfortunately, tonight is not the night," she said, then turned and a relief went down my spine. How ironic that when I was a child, all I wanted was my stepmother's pride and love. Anita Greyson, my stepmother, was the most powerful woman in the West Province of Lunaria. The Lady of the Honourable House of Greyson. A motivation and the mother figure of all the young girl wolves in the province. Who wouldn't want her pride and love as a kid? But now I see how naive I was. She'd never love or accept me. Not when I remind her that she was never my father's first choice. Stepmother faced Emma. “In three days, the blue moon will rise, and the Crowned Heir will choose a bride. One maiden from each of the four houses of Lunaria will represent their respective houses. And with every honorable bloodline before you two, one of you must represent the House of Greyson.” Of course, by 'honorable bloodline' she meant Emma and just Emma. By 'one of you' she also meant Emma. Such things always meant Emma. “Honorable bloodline? One of us?” Emma raised an eyebrow. “What is this, Mother? A contest between me and the witch?” “Of course not,” Stepmother chuckled. She turned, looking me dead in the eyes, and said, "It would be an act of treason against the Royal House of Hale to present a cursed, forest-found, bastard child." That word—bastard. You’d think that after hearing it so many times, it would lose its sting. But somehow, it still cut deep into old wounds that never healed. Emma laughed at her mother’s words. “Indeed, Mother, Jessica could never represent us. You hear that, Jess, it is not a bastard-child-contest, else you could have been a representative." Even though, by right, I should, I wasn’t going to argue with them unless I wanted to be beaten to a pulp and thrown out of the house again, just like last night when I was only trying to tell Emma that I hadn’t eaten all day and couldn’t carry any more heavy luggage. Besides, I haven't turned yet. Every honorable bloodline turns at their first full moon after turning eighteen. Yet there I was, twenty-one, yet to grow a fang or howl under a full moon. So what's my defense that I had the honorable bloodline in me when I couldn't do the basic thing all bloodlines could? “Or what do you say, cursed one?" Stepmother asked, snapping me out of my mystery, "Do you have a contrary opinion?" I looked down at my feet, feeling the weight of their disdain. “No, ma’am,” I mumbled, not daring to meet her eyes—in situations like that, I dared not even try it. Emma smirked at me, clearly enjoying my discomfort. Stepmother patted my cheek condescendingly before turning away, her long gown swishing behind her. "Besides, she has not even turned yet.” Stepmother added. Emma laughed again. "Mother, she is so cursed, even the gods are against her. How would she ever turn if she has not at twenty one?" Stepmother looked to me with a smirk. She must have been having the best moment of her life. Then she turned back to Emma. " And to you, Emma, you have an opportunity no other girl has. The Crowned Heir is only an hour from here to settle the rift between our House and those lousy House of Howells." "And he would be all over me by the end of the night, Mother." She turned and faced the mirror, staring at herself with all her pride. "Tell me why he would not fall in love with all of these." Even though I hate to admit it, Emma is beautiful. She was moderately tall with long, glossy raven-black hair that fell in perfect waves down her back. And she is also the second fastest wolf in the House of Greyson, after her brother Jordan. There’s no way I could compete with that. I am always dressed in rags, they don't allow me to comb my hair or look pretty and I am overly worked and almost always tired. And to add to it all, I am yet to turn! I am no match. “Good,” Stepmother said with a proud smile. "Now, I'd let you get back to it," she said and she started heading towards the door. “But I don’t know what shoes to wear!” Emma whined. “The white ones Jessica is holding. They’d do,” Stepmother said, walking out. The door closed behind her with a definitive thud.