The Cursed Alpha’s Daughter

Chapter 12

I came back from school feeling pissed, exhausted, murderous even.

My uniform stuck to my skin from sweat and it was stained with blood and dirt.

My superficial injuries were already healing, but my ribs still felt like I could use a few more minutes.

I on the other hand felt like getting a gun and marching up to Malcom and shooting him in between the eyes with it.

I look at the stairs leading up and quake a little.

I'm twelve steps in. Might as well be twelve trials of torment. My ribs were counting every one.

I hear someone call me.

"Cinder."

I flinch and then immediately straighten my back.

It was Lady Marenia.

My Godmother and the person in charge of me when Dad was too tired of holding my leash.

I was too manhandled for a grueling lesson right now.

Lady Marenia’s lessons came served with bitter tea and sugar-dusted warnings.

I slouched onto the cushion. She poured tea like I hadn’t just been publicly humiliated twice in a day.

“Sit straighter,” she said.

I did so immediately and caught my breath from my ache in my ribs.

"You look like dinner leftovers" She sipped.

"Hopefully, I'm still warm." I mumble and she doesn't comment. The lady came whenever she liked. Never a set date.

"You're the princess. The Example she wolves look up to—"

"With all due respect Marenia. No parent in their right minds would want their cubs to be like me."

She sips again and takes the interruption in stride.

"Well you first need to strive for perfection. You have duties, responsibilities, expectations, your whole life is planned out as the first ever born princess in werekind—" She drones on.

I slouch in my seat again. Someone send help.

"The day you get married—"

Like seriously. Help.

!! !! !! !!

Night Fell.

My room held little comfort against all I was feeling.

I peeled off my bloodstained shirt. Tossed it aside. My ribs ached. My hands trembled. I wasn’t sure if it was from the fight or from lute lessons Marenia had me do till i got a song— to darn perfection.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Just a girl.

I fell into bed with a tired sigh.

Eyes open. Mind racing.

Then, like a spark in a thunderstorm, I heard it—sharp, smug, and definitely not mine.

《《Pathetic》》

I jump up from the bed in shock.

What the f**k was that?

《《If I'd known I would be possessing a body this useless, I would've have just stayed in my prison.》》

I'm going crazy.

《《Not as much as i am. What's your deal? Are you human or a werewolf?》》

Okay. Losing it. Definitely lost it.

《《Princess or a prisoner?》》

Before I can even think of answering I hear other voices.

Outside my room.

I strain my hearing to catch the low thrum of voices. Familiar ones.

I turned my head, the thin sheet barely covering my legs. Bare feet peeking out like pale ghosts. I should have been cold, but I wasn’t. The strange kind of warmth that came from spite pulsed through me instead.

Romero’s voice still droned on outside:

“He was supposed to leave for Erevar tomorrow. That was what was relayed in our letters. His presence was strategic, symbolic even. Now he lies unconscious, and we look indecisive.”

A pause. Then another voice—one of the councilors. Sneering.

“The envoy can't proceed without royal blood, Alpha. You know how the vampires are—if we look fractured or insincere, they'll exploit it. That girl—”

“Is not an option,” Romero snapped. “She’s unstable. Dangerous. She attracts chaos like blood attracts flies.”

The councilor lowered his voice to a hiss. “Then why is she still breathing?”

Silence. Heavy and cold.

Then: “Because unlike you, I don’t kill cards I might one day need.”

I hug my knees. My eyes blank.

The councilor coughed. Nervous.

"He should’ve awoken by now. And that girl... is she ever not a jinx?! I'm sure she's up to something as we speak! It’s always her. The Moonlit Ceremony. Elio’s condition. Now this strange attack and the lightning..."

“Coincidence is for those too weak to plan,” Romero said succinctly. “Get someone watching her. Quietly. I want to know what she does at every second of the day.”

Their footsteps faded down the corridor.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Father called me a card...

I just stood there, the words echoing in my skull like a drumbeat.

“She’s unstable. She attracts chaos.”

“I want to know what she does at every secondof the day.”

Why am I like this?

Always making an error? Always the error?

"Weak and always being used?"

I swallowed hard, but the burn in my throat stayed. My pulse pounded—not from rage this time, but something deeper. Colder.

They underestimate me.

《《And that…

That is a mistake on their part.》》

I put my hands over my ears. I didn’t want to hear voices. I didn’t want to be any more different.

“Shut up—just shut up! I’m not hearing this. You’re not real.” I wish I could get away. Away from everything.

And then it hit me. So clean, so clear it sliced through the rest of my thoughts: I want to go.

Erevar.

The legendary Vampire Kingdom. A place of dusk and opulence. Where moonlight danced on black stone towers and immortals waltzed in blood-stained silk. Where witches chanted in golden script, and fae with eyes like starlight plotted with twisted tongues.

I’d only ever heard stories. I'd only ever been here.

I want to go.

Not for my father. Not for duty.

For me.

I layed there for what felt like hours before I gathered morale.

I threw the sheet aside, feet hitting the cold marble. My sleeping gown hung awkwardly, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t look for shoes or a robe. I walked barefoot out of the ward like a ghost with purpose, the chill against my skin sharpening my resolve.

The castle wing was quiet. That hushed lull of something important about to unravel. I turned the corner toward Romero’s study just in time to see her.