A slave to the Alpha I rejected

Weak little thing

Celeste’s POV

A subtle heat rose through my skin as I felt a warm pressure on my body, cooling and soothing each pain-flagged spot.

My chest fell as my breath finally settled after the pain had been reduced, my mouth bitter from whatever concoction had been forced down my throat to help me.

I opened my eyes to be met with unfamiliar carved ceilings and the familiar scent of herbs, with each scent from the morning flashing back to me. From the beta twins to Muriel and Nyssa… a face that left me with a question.

I tried to speak, but my throat zinged in pain from how parched it was—all from my cries and pleas last night while Syzar used my body as he pleased.

“You’re finally awake, child,” I heard the calm voice of the older woman, Muriel, as my brain recalled. I pulled myself up by my elbow, slowly stumbling forward even as my temple throbbed.

“What… what happened?” I groaned, just as I saw the hot plate of soup settled on a table in front of me.

The savory smell of chicken and potato soup had my body trembling as I recalled that I had barely eaten anything.

“Your body was screaming for food, and the king didn’t go easy on you… but you stood strong. Good… eat it quick.” She pointed to the meal in front of me.

I reached for the chicken soup and the cutlet of bread before me, scarfing down what I could as I tried not to cry.

I’d been so grungy it took a good minute to see that on my hands were bronze bracelet cuffs, lined well with the Sigil of Sorgales insignia, now bound to both my wrists.

I paused, staring at them as the food in my mouth felt like another lump. This was the full confirmation of my standing as Syzar’s slave.

“What…”

“You were brought here for your wounds and to be taken in as the king’s slave, which is better than being branded with hot iron like how Crossvale does, isn’t it?” she asked me, and my guilt rose.

She was right; this was far better than a sigil on my skin, although the pain from Syzar’s touch still loomed.

I looked around instead, taking in the large space, the ceiling to the floor covered in shelves of vials and herbs. And yet the beauty held the history of the castle.

“I thought the Rhals castle and Sorgale had been abandoned for over five years,” I found myself asking. I needed a question answered, and Muriel didn’t seem as intimidating as the others.

“As you know, Sorgale and Silver City were the first place wolves were born, till some birds fought for independence and the Rhal crown gave it.

This great kingdom was the center of the wolves until the siege; the common wolves were sold as slaves, while others were left in hunger, and the old, like us, were abandoned… My son, who wanted to fight back, was killed with his wife.

And with the death of King Silas, all of us thought the royal family had fallen also and hope lost, until the prince’s body was found.”

She explained to me, and a shudder ran down my spine knowing that was my family’s doing; my family’s legacy was the uprising of the Silver City left in blood.

All this brutal death when everyone lived in peace, and for what? All it had done was take lives and break the soul of the man I loved. And because I believed Derek, it was very clear he had lied to me.

A bitter feeling grew in my chest as my stomach churned; now the chicken soup felt uncomfortable in my stomach as I looked at her.

“Then don’t you hate me? You must despise me,” I asked, as Muriel sighed.

“With the hatred you are about to go through in this castle, my feelings would do nothing, not when you suffer with the lives of thousands on your family’s name,” she said, and brittle guilt washed over me.

She was right; my father and uncle were notorious in their harem of women, most of them being captives from Sorgale’s capital, the Silver City, with different beauties from the continent.

Now my head had settled, and an image of Nyssa flashed across my mind as I dipped my eyes toward Muriel, who pounded some herbs.

“That woman Nyssa, I swear I’ve seen her before with my uncle…” I said, hoping she would believe me, as Muriel turned, unsurprised.

“Yes… she infiltrated Crossvale as an addition to your uncle and brother’s harem to get information.

I also heard your fate was to become your father’s breeder. A real monster, that one… glad his head is on a pike,” she snarled.

Just as a knock came to the door of Muriel’s chambers. “The matron is here for you… word of advice… Stay out of Nyssa’s way; she has an avid dislike for your Orion bloodline and will not tolerate insolence,” she warned me as she handed me a small vial.

“What is this… I feel better already…” I muttered.

“It’s for you to wash whatever seed is in your system; the king’s orders are you will not bear his child… His bloodline will not be stained with Orion blood,” she said, and my stomach dropped.

I tried to hold back the tears that pricked my eyes as it became evident of his hatred for me… why let me live? I pondered as the door opened and I was met with two females.

The matron from yesterday who dressed me, and a meek girl who looked my age, her dark blonde, almost light hair in two pigtails as she watched me with her hand gripping nervously on her satchel.

“I am the Matron Blanca, and this is the healer who will be in charge of you, sent by Lady Nyssa herself.”

“My name is Anora, and I—I am just an apprentice,” she said with a meek voice. I could feel she was barely taught.

A plan clearly set by Nyssa to make sure my future wounds would be healed by an amateur. “Pleased to meet you, I am Celeste,” I said quietly, but Blanca only turned away and ignored me.

I followed them down the hall as Blanca led me to my small, windowless room. She stopped at the door with stern eyes as I tried to control my limp.

In her hand was a basket of clothes, my new ones, which she roughly placed in my hand.

“I shall be back to take you for your lessons. Get cleaned up; you are not royalty anymore, slave.” She called with a sneer in her voice just as the door closed, leaving me in my darkness.

I looked at the vial with a dark green substance that glowed in the lamp’s light, just as I opened the cork and took in the liquid.

The bitter liquid made my body shiver from its wicked and burning taste as it glided down my throat.

I walked under the shower, letting the cold water sting my skin as I washed with the small bottle of soap I’d been given, letting last night’s scent wash away.

Muriel was right; having Syzar’s child would just complicate things, and it would cease my death sentence. I should stay low until he is tired of me and lets me go.

The only advice I’d been given by multiple people was to be submissive till he gets tired of me.

But what if I didn’t want to do just that… What if a selfish part of me didn’t want this to end like this? A part of me ready to find that kindness in him that might still exist?

Just what am I hoping for? Because I was soon about to be sorely mistaken.