The Beta's Beloved

The Sacrificial Bride

AVERY’S POV

I held the crystal statue of Saint Ganymede with both hands, treating it like it was spun from glass and sunlight. Under the soft glow of the castle’s chandeliers, it glinted beautifully but looked so fragile that I knew my mother would kill me if anything happened to it. I moved carefully through the room, trying to find a safe spot for it among all the Yule decorations.

Then suddenly, a voice boomed from behind me.

“Avery!”

I jumped so badly, my hands flew open. The statue slipped from my fingers, and I watched in horror as it tumbled toward the floor. I could already hear my mother’s furious voice in my ears before it even shattered. But it didn’t. Just before impact, it froze midair, hovering for a split second before dropping softly to the floor with a dull thud, completely intact.

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, my heart still racing from the scare. I knew that magic. Slowly, I looked up and saw him—the one who’d scared me and saved me in the same moment.

Larlaith was leaning casually against the doorway, his striking red hair catching the light like embers. His cornflower-blue eyes sparkled with the faint trace of power, the magic already fading from his hands. He grinned at me, looking sheepish but not really sorry.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he said, stepping closer.

I let out a nervous chuckle and shook my head. “Larl, you almost gave me a heart attack. If that statue had broken, my mom would’ve—” I couldn’t even finish the thought, shuddering instead. Then I smirked at him. “Good thing your verdance came to the rescue.”

He shrugged, his grin getting wider. “It would be great if my father thought so. But you know how he is. He doesn’t see it as anything special. Not like Reece’s.”

I laughed softly and rolled my eyes. Reece—the golden boy of our family, the son of the Druid Chief and cousin to Larlaith and me. He was everything a perfect Druid was supposed to be, and Larlaith had been living in his shadow for as long as I could remember.

“Well,” I said teasingly, “you shouldn’t complain. You could’ve ended up like me.”

“With my father?” Larlaith snorted. “The god of the skies himself could’ve handed you the greatest gift in the world, and he still wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Because I’m a girl?” I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

“He’s like that,” Larlaith said, his voice softening, almost apologetic.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the tension hanging between us. Then, Larlaith tilted his head, his gaze moving to my hair.

I felt my cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “What?” I asked.

“Your hair,” he said with a crooked smile. “Blonde death?”

I flushed deeper, brushing a hand through my newly bleached strands. “I wanted to try something new.”

“Well,” he said, leaning in slightly, “I like it. Makes your eyes pop.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. He tilted his head a bit more, studying me in the light. “In this lighting, they almost look blue.”

Panic shot through me, and I instinctively raised a hand to cover one eye. “Really?” My voice came out tight and strained.

Larlaith frowned, clearly taken aback by my reaction. “I was just complimenting you,” he said cautiously.

Realizing how strange I must have looked, I dropped my hand quickly, embarrassment flooding through me. “Oh,” I mumbled, looking away.

Before either of us could say anything else, I heard a familiar voice call out, sharp and frantic. “Avery! Avery!”

I turned to see my mother rushing toward us, her face a storm of worry and irritation. “Where were you?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to make some of the maids pause in their work.

“Helping out,” I said, trying to sound casual, though her expression made my stomach churn.

My mother’s eyes narrowed. “Your father wants to talk to you.”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “But I’ll finish decorating this first.”

“Leave it to the maids,” she snapped, grabbing my arm.

Larlaith stepped forward, his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll take care of it,” he said quickly, offering me an encouraging smile.

I shot him a grateful look, but before I could say anything, my mother was already dragging me away.

“What could Father possibly want at this time?” I muttered as we walked, her grip on my arm tight enough to sting.

My mother glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “He’s finished discussing with the Nagles,” she said. “And it’s been...”

She trailed off, her words hanging in the air. I frowned, about to press her, but then her gaze dropped to my face. Her eyes widened, and her grip on my arm tightened.

“Your eyes,” she whispered, her voice laced with panic. “They’re turning blue.”

“What?” I stopped in my tracks, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small bottle of eye drops.

“Look up,” she ordered, tipping my chin upward.

I flinched as the drops hit my eyes, stinging like fire. I blinked rapidly, trying to ease the burn, but my mother’s voice cut through my discomfort.

“I’ve told you to use these every six hours,” she said sharply. “But you never listen to me.”

“I forgot,” I muttered, wincing.

She stopped walking and turned to face me fully. Her grip on my shoulders was firm, her gaze piercing. “Forgot?” she repeated, her voice low and dangerous. “Have you forgotten what all of this is about?”

I couldn’t answer. The weight of her words, the fear in her eyes—it silenced me completely. I stood there, blinking away the sting of the drops.

My mother’s grip tightened even more as I stood there, frozen under her sharp gaze. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that demanded my full attention. “I said, have you forgotten what all of this is about?”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to respond. “Of course not.”

“Then tell me,” she snapped, her tone not leaving room for excuses.

I scoffed lightly, trying to deflect the weight of her question. “It’s to make sure I survive whatever’s coming,” I muttered, the words slipping out almost dismissively.

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm but quiet, her eyes locked on mine. “And that cannot happen if you keep giving people crumbs to suspect something is wrong with you.” She paused, studying me as though she could see straight through me. “Did Larlaith see them?”

I shook my head quickly. “No,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure. “He just… said something about the light. That’s all.”

Her gaze didn’t waver, but after a moment, she let out a small sigh, pulling herself together. “Good,” she said curtly. “Keep it that way.”

We continued down the hall in silence, the tension between us thick enough to cut. When we reached my father’s chamber, she stopped in front of the large, intricately carved door. Turning to me, she tilted my chin upward once more, her eyes narrowing as she inspected me closely.

“Beautiful and dark,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. Satisfied, she nodded. “Let’s go.”

She knocked firmly, and a moment later, the heavy door creaked open. We stepped inside, the room dimly lit by the silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the tall windows. My father, Senan Bogumila, was seated on the verandah, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the pale light. He didn’t turn immediately but spoke in his deep, resonant voice.

“Senan,” my mother said, her voice softer now, “Avery is here.”

He finally turned, his piercing eyes meeting mine, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Come and join me, my beautiful Avery,” he said, beckoning me forward with a wave of his hand.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping closer, my mother’s presence behind me a silent nudge. As I reached him, he gestured to the view beyond the verandah. The moon hung high in the sky, its glow casting an almost ethereal light over the distant hills.

“Is it not beautiful?” he asked, his voice almost wistful.

I nodded, unsure of what else to say. “It is.”

His smile deepened, though there was something behind it—something I couldn’t quite place. He reached out and gently stroked my hair, his touch surprisingly tender. “This is going to mean much to you soon,” he said, his tone heavy with meaning.

I frowned slightly, confused. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead lowering his hand and leaning back in his chair. His next words, when they came, felt like a blow. “Avery, your hand has been asked for in marriage.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart skipped, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I managed a strained laugh, trying to mask the panic clawing at my chest. “Marriage?” I echoed. “To… which house?”

He looked at me with a calm that only made the moment more unsettling. “The Nagles,” he said simply.

I turned sharply to my mother, searching her face for answers, for something that might contradict this. “I heard you mention that house earlier,” I said, my voice quick and rising, “but I’ve never even heard of them before. And, Father… I don’t want to get ma—”

“Avery,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “They are Lycans. The Beta bloodline of the Lycan Kings.”

The world seemed to tilt as his words sank in. Lycans. My chest tightened, my mind racing to process the implications. “What?” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Lycans?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “They are powerful allies, Avery. Their lineage is strong, their loyalty unwavering. This union will ensure a future for our family.”

I stared at him, stunned. His words didn’t just feel absurd—they felt like a betrayal. “Powerful allies?” I said, my voice rising as anger began to creep in. “Their lineage? Their loyalty?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Tomorrow, the Druids will gather to celebrate Ganymede, and Lycaon will be mentioned, not for his bond, but to remind us how much the Lycans are to be hated. How many times have I heard you speak about their treachery? Their curse? Their savagery?”

Senan’s expression hardened, the soft paternal tone vanishing in an instant. “This is not about the past,” he said coldly. “This is about the future.”

“The future?” I echoed, my voice trembling with fury. “Or is this about me? Because I’m powerless and a girl?”

His silence spoke louder than any words could. The tension in the room felt suffocating, the truth hanging heavily between us. Then, with a sudden burst of frustration, he rose to his feet, his towering figure casting a long shadow across the verandah.

“Yes!” he snapped, his voice echoing. “Yes, Avery, it is because you’re powerless. Because you’re a girl. Because you are useless in terms of gender and abilities!”

I flinched, the words cutting deeper than I expected. He wasn’t finished.

“The Chiefstancy will never fall on this family because of you,” he continued, his tone sharp and unrelenting. “Do you think I don’t know what they whisper about us behind our backs? How they mock me for having a daughter who can’t summon a single essence of verdance? You will never carry this family forward with no gift of the Druids, Avery. But at least, you can be worth something.” His eyes burned into mine, his voice lowering to a bitter growl. “At least, I can ensure that my genes won’t die out with you.”

I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. My chest ached, not from fear or anger, but from the sheer weight of his words. I had always known his disappointment, always felt it lurking behind his cool facade. But to hear it laid out so plainly, so cruelly—it was almost too much.

“So that’s all I am to you?” I said, my voice breaking. “A bargaining chip to trade for some alliance?”

“You’re more than that,” he said, though his tone was hollow. “You’re my daughter. But you havea duty. A duty to this family. And this—this is what must be done.”

I couldn’t look at him. My vision blurred as I turned to face the moon, its cold light mocking me with its stillness. Tomorrow, the Druids would sing songs of Ganymede and Lycaon, hymns of an obsession that ended in tragedy and war, a reminder of how much we were supposed to despise the Lycans. And yet here I stood, being told to tie myself to them. To save a face for a father that clearly saw me as nothing more than a means to an end.

For a moment, I thought about refusing. About yelling, screaming, or running from this room. But what good would it do? My father’s mind was set, and his words had made one thing painfully clear.

In his eyes, I was only worth what he could trade me for.