The morning light brought a soft knock and a young girl who couldn't have been more than eighteen. She walked in carrying a basin of steaming water and a bundle of clean linens. Her face was bright and her eyes were wide with the kind of excitement that only belongs to the young.
"Good morning!" she chirped, setting the basin down on a wooden stand. "The Alpha said you were to be cleaned up for the morning meal. I’m Helena."
I didn't answer. I just stared at her from the bed. She was so small, so full of life. As she moved around the room, opening the heavy curtains to let in the biting winter light, I felt a familiar, cold prickle of fear. I looked at her smooth skin and her unbroken hands and wondered: What did my father do to you? Did he kill your brother? Did he burn your home?
Ever
