3
1415 Words
Annalise
I was bent over the toilet sink for the third time that morning, dry heaving and feeling as though I was going to cough up my lungs.
Queenette rushed in at that moment, kneeling beside me.
“Your Highness, I'm so sorry. Here.” She pushed a cup of water into my hand, but I shook my head, pushing it back to her. She still hadn't gotten the hang of calling me by my given name.
She bounced on the balls of her feet, antsy and unsure of what to do.
When my stomach no longer felt like it was under attack, I slumped backwards and into her arms. She wrapped herself tightly around me, rocking back and forth.
“I don't know what's wrong with me, Queenette,” I whispered.
I'd spent the last three weeks since I'd been demoted to omega status, sick. When it had become worse a week ago, Queenette, who'd been my rock through it all and the only reason I had strength enough to get up every day, had decided it was most likely due to all the hard work I had to do now that I wasn't used to.
But things hadn't gotten better as she'd predicted. It actually seemed to be worsening.
“I don't know what's wrong either,” she whispered against my forehead, defeated.
A shadow fell across both of us, and we raised our heads to see the stern head cook glaring down at us. We were on kitchen duty.
“I see you're both here once again, neglecting your duties under the guise of illness.”
Queenette scrambled to her feet, gently resting my weak body against the wall.
“Beulah, she really is sick!” She pleaded earnestly. “You have to do something to help her.”
Beulah shook her head. “I don't have to do anything, Queenette.” She spat.
“You both, on the other hand, have pans and an oven to scrub to shine! And if you don't drop this foolish—” she turned her gaze to me, “— lazy act, I will have no choice but to take this up with the Alpha.” She sneered and turned to leave.
She paused a few steps forward and turned back. “Ensure you clean your filthy baby-looking skin of the filthiness of this place and don't trail dirt into my kitchen.”
And then she was gone.
I pressed my index finger and thumb into my eyes, struggling to find strength somewhere inside of me. I can't have her report to Drew. He'd told me in no uncertain terms two weeks ago when I'd snuck into his chambers to plead for his mercy that the next time I disturbed him in any way he would have me thrown into the dungeon.
“Come on, Queenette, let's go,” I murmured, forcing myself to sit up and begin rising to my feet, but she stopped me, a hand on my arm, her eyes wide as she stared at me in shock.
I blinked and ran my other hand over my face and around my head, wondering what could possibly be on my face that would make her have such a shocked look.
She shook her head vigorously, indicating it was nothing like that, and grabbed my free hand, holding on tightly to both my hands as she whispered,
“Annalise, what Beulah said about a baby—I—you're pregnant!”
I stared at her incredulously. “What?”
“You're pregnant.” She repeated, waiting for it to sink in.
And it did…
Drew and I had intercourse regularly, and I didn't ever fall ill. My so-called illness so far was typical of pregnancy symptoms.
“N–no,” I stuttered even as I realized that there really was no other explanation.
“You have to tell him.” Queenette demanded ferociously, forcing me back to the present.
“But– I–”
“Let's go!” She pulled me up immediately and began dragging me towards Drew's chambers.
I tried to protest, but I let the protest die on my lips. He wouldn't throw me in the dungeon when he heard I was carrying his child. Surely, not even Drew was that callous.
Another thing I was wrong about.
The minute he opened his door and saw me fighting with the guards outside who had refused to grant me audience with him, his eyes darkened, and he uttered in the coldest voice I'd ever heard, “I told you what the consequences would be if you ever pulled this again, Anna. Take her to the dungeons.”
My eyes widened to almost popping out of their sockets.
“Drew! No! Wait! I'm pregnant!”
Strength from nowhere surged through me and I bit one of the guards and kicked the other in the groin, before breaking free and running to Drew.
I grabbed his arm. “Drew, I'm pregnant! For you!”
He yanked his arm from my grip and pushed me backwards onto the floor. “You all saw her! She fought through two guards to attack the Alpha!"
"This woman has committed treason! Take her to the dungeons. She should be tortured for her evil crime.”
I was shocked to my bones as I watched this man who I loved with my whole heart, betray me in the worst way possible.
“Drew.” I could only whisper as I was roughly dragged away. His eyes were hard and dark as they watched me being treated with such indignity.
I was tossed into a cell like a rag doll. I felt a sharp pain as my head hit the wall and my vision dissolved into darkness.
*****
I opened my eyes slowly and blinked, trying to understand where I was. In a moment, everything came crashing back and with it, excruciating pain.
The back of my head hurt, my arms hurt—most likely bruised from the guards' rough handling—but my abdomen hurt the most. I moved my hand down to clutch my stomach as I doubled in pain. My breath snagged in my throat at the sight that greeted me.
My legs were covered in blood.
I followed the trail of blood up to the source of the pain and tears pooled in my eyes.
I'd lost the baby.
I doubled in agony, weeping for the child that I'd lost and the life I'd lost.
I didn't know how long I lay there crying, and I must have drifted off to sleep at some point because the sudden sound of footsteps made me open my eyes.
The iron door to my cell groaned open and two guards along with a familiar face walked in.
“Hello, sister.” Isabella cooed, waltzing over to where I lay to stare down at me with contempt.
She noticed the blood on my clothes and her lips curved into the most radiant smile.
“Well, well, I guess you were speaking the truth after all. But no one's going to believe you now that you've lost your only evidence.” She cackled.
I swallowed.
“What do you want from me, Isabella?” I demanded, refusing to show her weakness.
“I want you to pay. For trying to steal my mate.”
“I didn't—”
But she didn't let me speak. “You’re so used to having everything, aren't you? You think you can take my true mate this time too?”
“Isabella, he was mine! Even you must understand—”
A jaw-shifting slap landed on my face. I gasped, spitting out blood.
Isabella had always been stronger than me because, unlike mine, her wolf was loud and about.
“Hold her down.” She commanded the two guards.
I looked up at them in surprise as they both bent to grab my arms and pin me to the wall. What was going on?
I looked back up to Isabella who was smiling down at me—no, that wasn't a smile. She pulled out a vial from the folds of her dress and crouched down in front of me.
As the silvery color of the vial's contents caught the late evening light from the ajar door, I realized what it was. My heart nearly stopped as I stared up at Isabella in horror.
Wolfsbane.
Isabella was going to kill me.
- Writer
