Reborn to Reign

Chapter 2: No Way Out

Pandora's POV

The pack priests told everyone that the Dead Lands were a poisoned wasteland full of ash and monsters. But to me, a poisoned wasteland was a thousand times better than dying in this packhouse. Plus, for all I knew, they were lying about it. Especially since a known cruel discarded alpha and his pack lived there. It was where I hoped to go. Hoped they could accept me. I would work every day doing whatever was needed, if only to get away from here.

Forty-eight, forty-nine... seventy-two. Seventy-two steps brought me to the second floor, right outside the guards' sleeping quarters. I froze against the cold wall and held my breath. Through the thick wooden door, I heard men laughing and the sound of metal armor clinking together. Then I heard Roman's loud, harsh voice.

"Put twice as many guards on the outer wall before the sun goes down," Roman ordered. "Bastian's personal guard is riding in through the main gates. If any rogue wolf or beggar tries to sneak onto the property during the party, cut their throat right on the spot."

"What about the metal grates down by the washhouse, Commander?" a guard asked.

"Locked tight with heavy iron padlocks," Roman answered in a cold voice. "Father gave the order this morning. Nobody walks into this packhouse tonight, and nobody walks out without my permission."

My stomach dropped like a heavy rock. Locked tight. The metal grate behind the washhouse was my main way out. It opened straight into the old water pipes that ran under the outer stone wall. If Silas and Roman were locking those grates with padlocks, my safest escape route was completely gone.

I leaned back against the cold stone, trying to make my fast heartbeat slow down. Do not panic, I told myself, digging my fingernails into my palms. If you panic, you die. You still know other ways out. I held the heavy silver tray tighter and climbed the last forty steps to the third floor. The third floor of the Lightvane Packhouse was like a completely different world.

It did not smell like old grease, harsh soap, or damp dirt. It smelled like sweet flower oil, fresh perfume, and expensive incense. Here, the floors were not made of rough wet stone. They were made of shiny white wood that looked like glass under bright glass lamps. Expensive wall cloths made of soft silk hung everywhere, showing pictures of big white wolves howling under the bright moon.

I walked quietly down the soft red carpet and stopped in front of the large double doors of the main bedroom. I did not knock with my hands because they were full. I tapped the edge of the heavy silver tray against the wood three times.

"Come in," a sweet, soft voice called out.

I pushed the door open with my shoulder and walked inside. The room was huge and warm. A large fire burned brightly in a clean white fireplace. Soft velvet chairs, white bear skins, and gold tables filled the room. My twin sister sat in front of a big three-sided mirror.

We had the exact same blood, we were born at the exact same hour, and we had the exact same face. But looking at Aurelia was like looking at a beautiful queen, while I was just a beaten, dirty shadowy version of her. Her skin was smooth, brown, and pretty, without a single cut or scar. Her light green eyes were bright and clear. And then there was her hair.

Her hair was a thick, shining river of pure, snow-white curls that fell all the way down past her waist. There was not a single black hair on her head. Not a single spot. It was the hair the whole pack praised. It was the hair that made the high priest fall to his knees the day we were born, calling Aurelia the holy Moon Born—the chosen child who would bring good luck to the whole land.

"You are late," Aurelia said without turning around. She held a shiny white pin against her hair, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

"The water took a long time to heat in the kitchen, Lady Aurelia," I said, keeping my chin pressed against my chest.

"Do not make stupid excuses, Pandora. It annoys me." She dropped the pin onto the table with a loud click. "Set the tray down over there and brush my hair. The head maid is sick, and I will not let some clumsy kitchen girl mess up my hair before Bastian arrives."

"Yes, Lady Aurelia."

I walked across the room, being very careful not to step on the white fur rugs with my dirty bare feet. I set the silver tray on the small table next to the sofa. Lying across the sofa cushions was Aurelia's dress for the gala. It was made of shining light-green silk, sewn with silver thread and covered in tiny white pearls along the chest. That single dress cost more money than an entire village of farmers made in a whole year.

I walked over and stood behind Aurelia's chair. My hands were still shaking from the freezing water downstairs. I picked up the smooth white hairbrush from the table.

"Be careful," Aurelia warned, glaring at me in the mirror. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the cloth wrapped around my head. "Keep that dirty rag pulled down tight. If even one strand of your cursed black hair touches my dress, I will tell Roman to tie you to the post in the yard and whip you until dark."

"I am always careful, Lady Aurelia."

"You are useless," she snapped, leaning back in her chair. "You have always been useless. That is why Father made you an omega servant in the kitchen where you belong."

I started to gently pull the brush through her long white hair. In reality I wanted to bash her head in with it, but what good would that do? It was as soft as silk. I brushed it slowly, starting from the bottom so I did not pull on her head.

We had done this hundreds of times when we were little children. Before Silas took away my name and made me a servant, before the priests called me a demon when bad luck happened in the pack, Aurelia and I had slept in the very same bed. Whenever thunder shook the house, she used to crawl under my blanket, crying, and hold my hand until the morning came.