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632 Words
The alpha stills, and the torchlight from the corridor flickers across his hard profile. Though he’s twenty feet or so away from me, his body heat washes over me. His scent does, too—sweat and blood and the mountains. My heart races, but I turn my attention to the injured boy.
“Take the young one to the nice. . . kennel.” The inhuman word catches in my throat.
I know these men are not human—even though they look it. I know that, being from the south, I’ve not had to face constant attacks from the Wolves like the north have. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t judge. The way the alpha fought in the ring proves the Wolves have little mercy within them.
Still, it feels wrong.
Ahead, the muscles in the alpha’s arms tense. He looks as if he’s going to turn around.
But then the guards push him through the next set of doors and he’s escorted away.
I let loose a breath.
The steward who is propping up the boy turns to me, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “The lord said—”
“I am to be your lady, and I’m the daughter of your king.” I stand straighter.
I have played pretend all of my life. I have smiled when my heart was breaking, I have laughed when I have been disgusted. I have swallowed my rage when a lord has been handsy with me on the dancefloor at a ball.
I can play the part of the formidable lady of this castle.
I raise my chin. “Put him in the nice kennels, and make sure he has a decent supper.”
I skirt past the two of them, and make my way through the labyrinth of stone corridors to my chambers in the northern wing.
There are a couple of handmaids waiting for me, and I allow them to dress me for bed in a long-sleeved white nightdress that reaches my ankles. I dismiss them, walking past the four-poster bed to stare out of the window at the rugged mountains in the north. The sky is lit by a crescent moon.
A growing restlessness writhes inside me as the trees sway in the distance and the wind batters the walls of the stone castle. What I said to the steward was true. Tomorrow I will be the lady of this castle. Yet I have no power.
I never have.
I have no power to take my leave of this place—to breathe in the scent of heather and fern, to bathe in bubbling brooks, or drink in local taverns. I have no power to speak to whom I choose, or form friendships, or to fall in love.
And I have no power to save the young wolf who will surely meet his end—if not tonight, then tomorrow, when he is deemed not fit to work and put back into the bad kennels.
I grit my teeth, then I grab a cloak from my wardrobe and throw it on.
Powerless as I am, I cannot do nothing.
The memory of my mother’s voice chases away the fear.
They will make you feel as if you have no choice, she told me before she died. But there is always a choice. Have courage, little one.
Perhaps I have the power to do one small thing before I am wed to the lord and left here to rot. Even if getting caught could mean losing my life.
Even if it may put me in close proximity to that monstrous alpha.
I put up my hood to hide my recognizable red hair. Then I grab a satchel, and slip out of my room.
I am going to the kennels.
- Writer
