99 Moons with Alpha Rhaegar

LIFE IN THE CASTLE BEGINS

ELYSIA’S POV

I didn’t really sleep. I drifted in and out, my mind too restless and my body too tense. Every creak of the floorboards outside my door made me jump. Every distant voice quickened my heart. By the time dawn light filtered through the window, I was utterly exhausted. But I was awake.

I sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot through my ribs. The pain was duller now—not the sharp, stabbing agony from before, but a deep ache that throbbed with every breath. I pressed a hand to my side, feeling the bandages beneath the thin nightgown.

I should still be bedridden. But I wasn’t. My wolf stirred, restless. *We’re healing.*

“Not fast enough,” I thought.

“Faster than we should be,” came the response. I frowned and pushed the thought away.

A sharp knock on the door made me flinch.

“Come in,” I said, my voice still hoarse.

The door opened, and a different servant entered—a middle-aged woman with sharp features and a no-nonsense expression. She carried a bundle of clothes in her arms and didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“You’re to be bathed and dressed,” she said flatly. “Proper accommodations have been arranged.”

I blinked. “Proper accommodations?”

“You can’t stay in the guest chambers indefinitely,” she replied, her tone clipped, like she was reciting instructions she had already given a dozen times. “You’ll be moved to the servants’ wing. His Majesty has decided you’ll work to earn your keep.”

My stomach dropped. “Work for my keep?”

She looked at me as if I were foolish for asking. “You didn’t think you’d stay here for free, did you? You’re not a guest. You’re not pack. You’ll work like everyone else.”

Of course, I almost forgot that I wasn’t a guest. I was a burden.

“Understood,” I said quietly.

She set the bundle of clothes on the bed—a simple gray dress, rough and plain, nothing like the soft nightgown I was wearing.

“Someone will bring water for the bath,” she said, already turning toward the door. “Be ready in an hour.”

She left without waiting for a response.

I sat there, staring at the clothes, my chest tight. *Servants’ wing. Work for my keep.* This was what I’d expected, what I’d known would happen. But it still stung.

The bath came less than an hour later—two servants hauling a large wooden tub into the room and filling it with buckets of steaming water. They didn’t speak to me. They didn’t look at me. They just did their job and left.

I sank into the water slowly, hissing as the heat stung my bruised skin. But after a moment, the warmth seeped into my muscles, and I let myself relax—just a little. I washed quickly, scrubbing away the grime and blood that still clung to me. My hair was matted and tangled, and it took forever to work through the knots.

By the time I climbed out, the water was murky and cold. I dried myself with a rough towel and pulled on the plain gray dress. The rough linen was so big and it hung loosely around my shoulders and waist, but it was clean. And it covered me. That was all that mattered.

A knock on the door.

“Are you Ready?” the same sharp-featured middle-aged servant called.

“Yes.” I answered.

She entered, gave me a once-over, and nodded. “Follow me.”

I did.

The castle looked different in the daylight, it was busier, and louder. Servants hurried past, carrying trays and linens. Guards stood at intervals along the walls, their expressions hard and watchful. Voices echoed through the stone corridors—orders being shouted, conversations overlapping.

The servants’ wing was on the opposite side of the castle, far from the grand halls and high ceilings of the west wing. Here, the walls were bare stone, the floors uneven, and the air smelled of soap, sweat, and damp wood.

The woman led me down a narrow corridor and stopped in front of a small door. “This is yours,” she said, pushing it open.

I stepped inside. The room was tiny—barely big enough for the narrow bed shoved against one wall, a small wooden chest at the foot of it, and a single shelf. There was no window and no fireplace—just four walls and a door.

“You’ll work in the kitchens,” the woman continued. “Mornings and evenings. You’ll clean, prep food, and serve meals. You do what you’re told, when you’re told. Understood?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” She turned to leave but paused. “One more thing.”

I looked at her.

“Don’t cause trouble,” she said flatly. “The Alpha King may have brought you here, but that doesn’t mean you’re protected. You’re here on sufferance. Remember that.”

She left, and I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty room.

This is my life now.

I sank down onto the bed, gripping the edge of the thin mattress.

Ninety-nine days. I could survive ninety-nine days. I had to.

Later, she led me down a long staircase and through a narrow corridor. The kitchens were pure chaos—hot, loud, and crowded with servants moving in every direction, shouting orders and clattering pots and pans.

The sharp-featured woman led me inside, and the moment we entered, the noise reduced, it didn't stop, it just softened.

I felt eyes turn toward me, conversations pausing. *She’s the one.* I didn’t need to hear the words to know what they were thinking: *The outcast. The one the King brought back.*

My chest tightened. I kept my head down, my hands clenched at my sides.

“This is Elysia,” the woman announced to the room. “She’ll be working on the prep and cleanup. Show her what to do.”

A few servants nodded, but most just stared, and no one moved. Then the noise resumed, and I was forgotten or at least, I was supposed to be.

Finally, a younger woman—maybe a few years older than me stepped forward. She had dark hair tied back in a braid and tired eyes.

“I’ll take her,” she said quietly.

The older servant nodded and left without another word. The young woman gestured for me to follow her to the back of the room. “I’m Nessa,” she said, her voice low. “You’ll be helping me with the vegetables.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She didn’t respond, just handed me a knife and pointed to a pile of potatoes. I got to work.

The hours passed slowly. My hands grew raw from peeling, my back ached from standing, and my ribs throbbed with every movement. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Because if I stopped, I’d have to think. And if I thought, I’d remember how the servants looked at me, the way they whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear.

*She tried to seduce the Alpha King. Just like she did before. Why else would he bring her here?*

I bit down on my lip and kept working. Nessa worked beside me in silence, occasionally glancing over to check my progress. She didn’t speak much, but she wasn’t unkind either. Just distant.

At one point, another servant, a younger girl with blonde hair leaned over and whispered to Nessa, “Did you hear? The Princess is back.”

Nessa’s hands stopped moving. “Already?”

“She arrived early this morning. Her Father wasn’t pleased, apparently.”

“Why not?”

The blonde girl shrugged. “No one knows. But the whole castle’s on edge.”

I kept my head down, pretending not to listen, but my wolf stirred. *Princess.* Something about the word made my chest tighten and my wolf uneasy.

*What’s wrong?* I asked her.

She didn’t answer, just growled low and soft.

By the time my shift ended, my hands were cramping, my back was stiff, and my ribs ached worse than they had all day. But I didn’t complain. I just went back to my room, closed the door, and collapsed onto the bed.

I was invisible unless I failed. Useful, but unseen. Present, but erased. This wasn’t just survival; this was condemnation. I pressed a hand to my chest, where something hollow had settled.

Then I noticed it. My ribs didn’t hurt as much as they should. I sat up slowly, pressing my fingers to my side. The sharp, stabbing pain from that morning was duller now, like it was fading.

I pulled up my dress and unwrapped the bandages. The bruises were still there—dark purple and yellow but they were lighter now. Smaller. And the gash on my head, the one that had bled so much… I touched it carefully. It was scabbed over. Healing Too fast.

Wolves healed faster than humans, but not this fast. Not after injuries like mine.

My wolf stirred, her voice quiet but certain. *We’re changing.*

“Changing how?”

She didn’t answer.

I stared down at my hands, my chest tight with something I couldn’t name. *What’s happening to me?*