Miracle of the Moon Goddess

2: Court Summons

“Introducing Prince Terra The Strong and his concubine Angel The Wolfqueen! The Prince is accompanied by two of his sired daughters, Celeste The Wolfprincess, and Theophania!” is called out as we enter the ballroom. Since my father is a well-known person in this court, everyone except a select few becomes quiet and bows to him. We walk directly to my grandmother, Empress Aubrey, as the others part for us. Giving us room to move between them. Father bows and kisses his mother’s hand. Mom does her usual thing of giving the same acknowledgment as the Empress gives to her. They always end up ignoring each other unless they have to communicate.

Me and Thea courtesy to the ancient elf in front of us and put on our best fake smiles. We exchange pleasantries. Thea does a great job of hiding her feelings and being quiet whenever she’s not spoken to. She answers politely when asked questions, and doesn’t put in more words than necessary. When I was her age, I’m pretty sure I did not do half this good in court, even if I had been in court several times by then.

We sit down on the dais, and tables are put up in front of us before the food is served by slaves bringing out huge serving trays. Then kneeling in front of us, the slaves offer us food, first grandmother, then father and mother. Next are the other four true elves sitting at the table with us, and lastly, Thea and I are served.

If we want any of the food offered, we do a slight twitch of our fingers, very subtle movements that are hard to read for newer slaves. If the person served is fidgeting with their hands or trembling in fear, which is not unheard of, it will be more evident. The slaves will keep filling food onto their plates, more food than they cannot possible eat. As long as the slaves see the twitch, they will keep piling up, and you become the laughing stock. They get mocked for their inability to keep their cool.

When I sense an almost soundless groan from Thea, I look at her. A young slave with bright and beautiful feathers fills Thea’s glass with mulled mushroom juice. One of the few things I know about Thea is that she does not like anything with mushrooms. We have bonded over this mutual hatred for the elven delicacy before, so I know her feelings around the brew. Whether if it were her tremble or the inexperienced slave, I don’t know. Still, taking a big breath, Thea accepts it without hesitation.

I give her a smile when she takes a sip to remind her not to show her grimace. She responds perfectly, and again I’m in awe of this young sister of mine. My first meeting with our grandmother did not go over so well. So much so that I’m almost jealous of my little sister.

The heavy wooden tables gets carried away when the meal is over, replaced with slaves with treys of drinks. Before I can get up from my chair to mingle away like I usually do, the young feathered slave stumbles in front of the dais, spilling the drink everywhere. I look at the elf who just stretched out his foot nonchalantly, as a smirk displays on his face. Instantly I feel the need to get up and help the poor woman up, but if I do, her life will be over. And if I do the other thing I want to do, kill the bastard, my life might be over. It pains me to take in the trembling form lying sprawled in front of us.

As the silence descends in the ballroom, I grab Thea's hand to keep her calm. She needs to remain seated for whatever will happen to the slave. Desperately the slave tries to pick up the glass pieces from the floor. Guards enter, and one of them steps on her hand. That’s when grandmother, the Empress herself, speaks up.

“Do not damage its feathers.” She doesn’t raise her voice. Empress Aubrey is a woman who knows her orders will be enforced if she so much as whispers, and the guards bow to show they understand the assignment. Thea does too, her knuckles getting white. I can barely see a tremble in her lips and her heart is beating faster. So is mine. We both know what we are about to witness.

The slaves nearby follow Empress Aubrey’s orders by cleaning up the glass with quick movements and bringing a cane to the guards. As soon as the floor is swept clean from anything that might damage the feathers, she is put down on the floor again, belly down, arms out, and her feet locked in place by two heavy muscled orcs. Usually, orcs are kept on farms since they are not considered beautiful to look at. There is one exception to this: torturing other slaves. Elven guards’ do not want to touch the slaves they are tormenting. When the feathered slave is held down firmly, the guard starts to beat the sole of her feet.

For every whimper escaping the feathered slave, Thea crushes my hand harder. My sister is too young to watch this. I’m too young for this, and I want to scream for them to stop! I want to help the person in front of us, but death is the only blessing I can give her. She might wish it, but I’ve seen worse before, so I’m keeping that blessing for when it truly matters.

Not wanting to watch anymore, I peek over to grandmother, which is a mistake. Her glee makes me sick, and the meal I have just ingested does not sit well in me. The four male true elves laugh together, and I see one of them clapping the back of the one who made the slave stumble as if congratulating for the great show.

When it’s all over, I keep holding Thea’s hand. Her grip is firm, so much so that I might not have blood left in my hand. It’s worth it though. She doesn’t meet my gaze, but my mother’s eyes do, and silent communication goes between us. As soon as we can get Thea away, we will.

Getting up to mingle, we slowly drift away from the dais. We never get very far since grandmother and father keep pulling me back into their conversation with the four men. Noticing the trend, I hint to mom to leave without me. She is angry, but accepts that Thea needs to get away from the worst of it. I manage to pry Thea’s hand from mine as mom takes over, and I’m left alone among the true elves.

Knowing I’m stuck alone, with no one having my back, I try to talk to the others politely, taking my time to take a closer look at the four men I haven’t met before. They all have the traditional court costume with ruffles and lace. The bright colors on them indicate they come from high society.

Two of the men have graying hair, telling me they might be among the first generation of elves. The archaic way they speak, including one of the two younger-looking ones, confirms this. Even if the last of them seems to be their junior by several centuries, I get the feeling that he too is too old for comfort. I’ve never responded well to the older true elves, including my father. The younger ones are not much better, but there are exceptions, like my brother Damien’s friend Eldarion.

Lord Melkor, the one speaking old fashioned but without graying hair, was the one who made the feathered slave stumble. Every time he speaks to me, I hold my breath. I have to concentrate on what he says, so I don’t explode. When we see pretty feathers in front of us, my wolf almost snarls at Melkor, something that would reveal her presence in me.

Limping between us, the slave serves us drinks. From her frozen face, I guess she does everything she can not to make a sound for every step she takes. I meet her fleeting gaze and give her a brief smile in sympathy, hating myself for not knowing what else to do. She might not even have noticed the small show of compassion I can give her without risking her life; she is in so much pain.

‘I want to rip their throats out!’ My wolf growls in my head, and I cannot agree more. I hate this so much! I wish I wasn’t so useless! My nine mothers speak of a time when we will be able to help, and to lay low while I wait for the right opportunity. I don’t know if I can do that for much longer. Sooner or later, I will be affected by seeing all this abuse. It will either turn me crazy like my mother, or worse; I will become like my father, cold and uncaring.

“Are you listening, girl?” I hear the irritated voice of Lord Malekith repeat. From what I’ve gathered, he is the oldest of the four men grandmother wants me to speak to. He even has a few wrinkles and might be around the same age as grandmother.

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” I blink innocently. Having been in similar situations before, I use one of my most trusty defenses. “I had an exciting lecture today, and I’m still thinking of one of the problems presented to me today,” I add a slight smile that makes me look dumb and innocent.

“I don’t need you to think, girl. I need you to answer your betters respectfully,” he gruffs, and I do everything I can to keep up my smile. “How have you allowed her to develop like this?” he asks my father, and I can see an angry vein pop up in father’s temple.

“I had other plans for the girl, but Empress Aubrey is wiser than me,” father smiles back and inclines his head in respect for his mother.

I play his words in my head again, and it suddenly hits me why I’m speaking to these men. They are here to examine me as a possible wife. I have no idea if it’s for themselves or their sons, but I swear I hope it’s their sons! I knew this day would come, but I did not think I would be this young. Elves are immortal. Even if I don’t inherit that trait from my father, I will live for centuries. There is no need for me to become married this early.

Besides, from what I understood, my father’s grand plan was to make me queen of mom's world first. Has grandmother forced him to abandon that plan? Or just changed the order things are supposed to happen? Why would she do this? And why now? I feel fear creeping up my spine; they are all so old!

Not wanting to anger Lord Malekith further, I force myself to listen to the question asked by the youngest of the four, Lord Beldun, and I almost recoil in shock.

“Are you pure?” he asks, his face smug.

The questions have been innocent enough until now, but this is private, and he is crude. How could Lord Beldun ask something like this? Of course, I haven’t had s*x! It’s not like I ever had the chance! And if the remote chance came, there would have so many repercussions it’s not worth it. To be honest, I think so now, not having had the chance, but I don’t think I will jump into a situation like that if it presents itself. At least, I hope so, even if I dream of being touched every night.

“Answer him, girl,” Lord Malekith chides.

I feel my cheeks turn red and my heartbeats getting louder, drowning out the sounds made by the rest of the people in the ballroom. I look down to the floor and try to hug myself to keep myself from running away in embarrassment. I give a small nod in answer to the question.

“Really?” Lord Beldun sounds doubtful. “I would have thought with a mother like yours you would have been experienced by now.” I guess he turns to the other men by how his shoes move. “I prefer the more experienced ones. They are more fun. When cleaned, of course,” he laughs, and they all join in, even my father and grandmother.

“Don’t tease the girl. Some of us like innocence.” Lord Algar, the last of the men, adds when the laughter gets quiet. He lifts my chin to look at my sprouting red face. “You will do, girl. I will keep my claim of her as a concubine after this meeting.” Concubine? Father has spoken to me about a husband in the future, not that I was supposed to become a concubine! Mother was right! I feel my rage building up, but I keep my tongue.

Standing there like I’m property, I hear the three others add their claims to me as a concubine. Lord Beldun and Lord Melkor even promise to give me some experience in bed anytime I want. The mere thought makes my stomach twist, and I think back on how Lord Melkor tripped a slave for fun, and how much Lord Beldun congratulated Lord Melkor for the show. These two men are not anyone I want to share a bed with, no matter if it’s as a concubine or wife. Not that I’m interested in the two others either.