The Wolf Heir's Reluctant Bride

Celeste Gray "Celeste! Get your lazy ass down here, you dumb cvnt!" Aunt Tifania's screech echoed through the attic from downstairs. I wiped the sweat stinging my eyes, the grime leaving a dark streak across my forehead. Here I was, knees aching from kneeling on the uneven floorboards, surrounded by the forgotten remnants of a life that wasn't mine. Ever since I was eleven, I'd been the attic rat, the scullery maid, the weed puller - anything to chase away the scowl permanently etched on Aunt Tifania's face. The Wulfen War took my parents, Maureen and Anthony, leaving a burden not just in my heart, but in the callouses on my hands and the constant ache in my muscles. Aunt Tifania, my mother's sister, had taken me in, but her thin lips and pinched expression never quite transformed into a semblance of warmth. "I'm coming, Auntie! One moment!" My throat tightened. Upsetting Aunt Tif was the last thing I needed, but the attic was sweltering, and a few extra minutes wouldn't hurt. This life here had been my reality ever since I could hold a broom. Auntie and her ugly daughters, Tiffany and Tamara, reveled in making my life miserable. They'd trip me on the stairs, "accidentally" spill cold soup down my back, and blame me for every misplaced spoon or burnt pot. Fighting back and leaving wasn't an option. The war had left scars not just on the land, but on the job market. No one wanted a scrawny human girl with nothing but the clothes on her back. Today, though, held a bittersweet edge. It was my 18th birthday. Not that it meant anything here. Kneeling on the attic floor, I blew out the meager candle I'd balanced precariously on a crust of bread I had snagged from yesterday's loaf. "Happy birthday to me," I whispered as the flame sputtered and died. With a sigh, I shoved the small piece of bread into my mouth and scrambled downstairs. Reaching the bottom, I straightened my rumpled clothes and took a deep breath. Aunt Tif stood in the living room, arms crossed, her beady eyes raking over me like a hawk's. Her bulbous nose seemed even bigger than usual. "What is it, Auntie?" "What took you so long? It's not like the attic's miles away." "I'm sorry, Aunt Tif," I mumbled, bowing my head slightly. "It won't happen again." A humorless scoff escaped her lips. Her eyes rolled, revealing more white than blue. "Go and get dressed, we are..." She trailed off, then sniffed the air dramatically. "Gods above, girl! Do you ever bathe? You reek worse than a week-old rat!" Who wouldn't smell like a rat in this place? My head snapped up. "Why, Auntie? Are we going somewhere?" "Enough with the questions, girl!" she barked. "Just do as I say! Dress yourself in something decent, and for the gods' sake, take a bath!" The unexpectedness of it all left me speechless for a moment. But her sharp voice snapped me into attention, and I simply nodded, turning on my heel to follow her orders. "And mind you," she added, pointing a finger at me, "something that doesn't look like it was fished out in a rag bin!" I gritted my teeth, forcing down a retort. "Yes, Auntie." The bathroom downstairs was off-limits to me, so I scurried up to the tiny one on the second floor. The tepid water felt heavenly against my skin. I scrubbed with fervor, the slivers of leftover soap barely enough to form a lather. Untangling my hair was a struggle, but I was still thankful for the shower. After rinsing off, I felt marginally human. My "room" was a converted storage closet at the end of the hall. Sifting through the threadbare clothes kept here for cleaning duties, my heart sank. Holes gaped in the faded dresses, and the old shifts hung limply on the hangers. Nothing was decent, let alone nice. Except for my mother's sapphire dress tucked neatly at the bottom drawer. The only thing left of hers after the war. I clutched the fabric to my body, inhaling the faint scent of lavender that still clung to its hem. A memory flashed - Mom twirling me in this very dress, her laughter echoing in a happier time. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back. Slipping on the dress, I stared into the cracked mirror on the back of the door. Chestnut hair, hazel eyes - so much of her in me. "I am growing roots here, Celeste! I swear on the gods if you make me wait one more second!" Ugh. "Coming, Auntie!" Heart pounding, I navigated the stairs in my only pair of heels, surprisingly well-maintained considering everything else. Reaching the bottom, I presented myself to Aunt Tif. She gave me a cursory once-over. "Decent enough," she muttered. "Hurry. Haven't got all day. I need to get back before your cousins return from school." "You mean we?" Auntie stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. "Yes, whatever," she snapped finally. "Come along, girl." Outside, Aunt Tif flagged down a waiting carriage. "Elmskeep Street, young man. And make it fast!" "Yes, ma'am," the young man replied, opening the carriage door for us. Elmskeep Street? A knot tightened in my stomach. "What are we going to do there, Auntie?" "Meeting someone. Just some business matter you shouldn't concern yourself with." Knowing better than to push it, I fell silent, watching the human streets of Glensdov blur past the carriage window. We were deep within the Wulfenreich Kingdom, led by King Viktor Wolfsbane. Ten years ago, the neighboring werewolf kingdom had launched an invasion. The war had been devastating, leaving the entire world of Esia in tatters. But Esia was resilient. Signs of recovery were slowly creeping back - shops bustling with customers, children playing in the streets, and the general air of optimism that had seemed lost forever. "We are here, Ma'am," said the coachman as the carriage rattled to a stop. Aunt Tif wasted no time, throwing open the door and practically leaping out. Elmskeep Street was a far cry from the bustling center of Glensdov. Crumbling buildings cast long shadows, and the air vibrated with a nervous energy. Dark figures lurked in doorways, their eyes following our every move. However, my aunt seemed completely at ease. "Keep up, girl!" she barked, already striding down the street with surprising agility for her age. We stopped before a dilapidated house with peeling paint and boarded up window. It looked more like a condemned building than a place of business. "Auntie, are you sure this place is safe?" "Shut up, girl," she hissed, not even turning around. "Just stay there. This won't take long." Ignoring my growing fear, she rapped sharply on the warped wooden door. The silence on the other side stretched. Then, a small viewing window slid open, revealing a single, piercing blue eye staring out. "Do you have it?" a gruff voice rasped from behind the door. Aunt Tif let out a high-pitched squeal, a sound so unlike her usual demeanor that I could only stare in astonishment. "Of course," she replied, stepping back a pace. The blue eye flicked downwards, landing directly on me. My breath hitched in my throat. What is going on? She thrust herself forward again, blocking the man's view. "Thirty gold pieces would be fair, wouldn't it?" A tense silence followed. Then, a small pouch emerged from the slot in the door. She snatched it with a practiced ease, the clink of coins filling the air. After a nod from the unseen figure, the viewing window slammed shut. "I'm rich!" My aunt spun on her heel and looked at me dead in the eye. "Good riddance, you pesky little rat." What? "What do you mean, Auntie?" Before I could follow her, the door of the building opened. From the shadows emerged a figure, cloaked and ominous. Strong hands gripped my waist and with a sudden jerk, I was pulled through the doorway. I screamed.