#12: A Breeder
1400 Words
It was the third day.
Two days had gone by since I saw Lord Aubrey last.
For the past three days, I had been monitored like a prisoner in a gilded cage. My meals came at the same time every day and every morning at first light a dozen maids filed into my room to prepare me for another day when I would see absolutely no one.
The sun was at its peak and the same grey pigeon landed on my window for the third time since I had gotten out of bed. It was my strange signal that lunch would arrive soon so I jumped up from bed and waited by the door.
I had spent the last few days talking to myself. To the birds that passed by. To any inanimate objects that could pass off as human.
Ever since the mating ritual, I had convinced myself that I would not converse with any of the maids. That I would not speak to the monsters. But solitude does not make the best companion and I was far past my breaking point.
Minutes or hours could have gone by before my door swung open, and a woman dressed in the Aubrey’s custom maid uniform walked in with a tray of food in hand.
The wooden tray contained a plate of green grapes and beside it a plate decorated with cooked meat of different sizes and a single slice of bread.
My eyes found that of the maid’s and I opened my mouth, finding it harder to keep these lips shut any longer.
“What meat is that?”
Beef. From cows. Not humans. We are not the monsters you believe us to be… name please?”
I turned to find the owner of the voice and I was pleasantly surprised to find another woman in clothes similar to the ones important women in Evenmoor wore.
“Give the tray to me, Phoebe. I'd handle it from here,” The strange woman explained to the maid, holding her hands in front of her.
Phoebe handed the strange woman the tray and dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Ms. Aubrey.”
My eyes widened in an instant and I took a step back without thought.
“Mrs. Aubrey?”
Now I knew that she was one of them, I could see the resemblance. She was tall, with silver threading through her raven black hair and the same sharp Aubrey eyes I had seen on Lord Aubrey.
The woman dropped the tray on my bed and shook her head. “No no no. Ms. Aubrey not Mrs. Aubrey. As much as I love my brother and my nephew., I cannot simply imagine a world where I am married to any of them.”
She turned to face me, eyes widening and mouth slightly ajar. “Forgive me. I seem to have forgotten your own situation… I… I'm sorry. My name is Iris… Iris Aubrey. Frank’s sister, but just call me Iris… please.”
My mind went blank.
When I had pleaded for someone to talk to earlier I hadn't exactly expected an in-law and for some reason I began weighing everything I had said and believed I would say.
Perhaps a year went by when I finally willed myself to speak.
“That’s his name… Frank.”
She nodded slowly as though she were conversing with a babe. “And your name is? Forgive me, but I can't settle for calling you Feywin like everyone else. It makes you seem like an exotic bird and you're not even a Feywin anymore… you're an Aubrey… kind of.”
Gears began to shift in my head and the more this woman spoke, the more I found myself wanting to talk and ask questions I probably should not.
“Kind of? What do you mean kind of?” I asked, my voice coming out breathier than I would have liked as I approached her, closing the gap between us.
She shrugged. “Well to the humans, you are an Aubrey because of that church marriage Frank made you and Lewison do—”
“His name is Lewison,” I cut her off, unable to stop myself. Somehow, getting to know his name and taste it on my lips made whatever we had going on between us feel more intimate than I would have liked to admit.
“Yes, and once again, your name is?”
“Quinn. My name is Quinn,” I told her, my fingers knitted together.
She placed her hands on her waist, a small smile playing on her lips. “Now that's more like it. Quinn and Iris. First name basis, like all families should be.”
My mind wandered back to her last words. “You said kind of. What do you mean kind of? You were saying something about humans…”
She nodded. “Ah, yes. According to the humans, you and Lewison are married, sealed together in holy matrimony or whatever you humans call it but according to us, werewolves, you're not. You're just a Feywin… a means to an end. Nothing goes for anything unless you're marked, you know? And well your neck is still as bare and barren as… well… me.”
My stomach dropped and while I knew that I should have been elated and have my entire body in the air as I screamed and jumped for joy, something told me that it meant more trouble than I initially bargained for. “I’m not… we’re not actually married? Why hasn’t… why didn’t he mark me yet?”
Iris forced a smile and her eyes softened. “Look, Quinn. The thing is, Feywins do not marry Aubreys in the werewolf world at the very least. Forgive me for my next few words, but among werewolves… Feywins are seen more as… vessels for the goddess. Breeders, in the bluntest sense, and sacrifices on the rare occasion. Lewison would obtain a mate… I mean a wife of his choice, when the time is right. You are simply the breeder.”
My mouth fell open, and I took another step back, my heart hammering against my chest. I turned around searching for a way to escape, but there was none. The windows were fenced. My room was locked with a key which I had no access to. And I had absolutely no idea how anything in this strange world worked.
Placing a hand on my head, I forced myself to think or to calm down. Any would do, but lungs would not listen. Air passed through my lips in ragged breaths. My eyes burned with tears which I had no doubt would fall soon. And a sheen of sweat did a perfect job in reducing the friction between my palm and my forehead.
“Quinn calm down—”
“No!” I yelled for the first time during this madness.
The room grew smaller, and I felt as though I could pass out at any moment if I didn’t do something. Anything.
Dropping my hands, I began to pace to and fro in the room as I came undone right before her. “You come here to tell me that I’m some breeding slave who isn’t even allowed the dignity of being called a wife. It’s either that, or you know, I just die in the name of a goddess I do not know, and you expect me to be okay! I mean my parents knew about this, and they were just okay with it. For the love of God, even my own sister knew, and she was perfectly content with it. Everyone is just okay with it! And you all expect me to be okay with it too?!”
“Quinn—”
“No! Do not call my name like you are some friend or pretend ally. You are just like the rest of them and it would be better if you addressed me just like the rest of them.”
“Quinn—”
“No!” I stopped in my tracks, tears now flowing freely down my cheeks as I stared at her. “No! Tell your Alpha and Alpha Prince or whatever the f**k it is that you call them that I will not!”
“Why don’t you tell me yourself,” a deep baritone voice answered, and I froze.
- Writer
