Chapter Seven A Lesson in Strength
1064 Words
Chapter Seven
A Lesson in Strength
Aveline woke before dawn.
Old habits refused to die.
For several long moments she lay perfectly still beneath impossibly soft blankets, staring at the carved wooden ceiling above her.
No shouting.
No steward pounding on her door.
No frantic race to light fireplaces before sunrise.
Only silence.
Peaceful silence.
She frowned.
It felt... wrong.
Someone should have been yelling by now.
Someone should have been angry.
Her stomach tightened with familiar anxiety.
She had overslept.
She was certain of it.
Throwing back the covers, she hurried to dress in the emerald gown Clara had brought her the day before.
She braided her long auburn hair and quietly slipped into the hallway.
The Ravenswood guest wing was still asleep.
Morning light filtered through towering windows, painting ribbons of gold across polished marble floors.
She wandered aimlessly.
Unsure where she was allowed to go.
Or if she was allowed anywhere at all.
The smell found her before the voices did.
Fresh bread.
Coffee.
Cinnamon.
She followed the scent into a large kitchen tucked away beneath one of the Citadel's western towers.
Unlike Ashmoor's kitchens, this one hummed with easy conversation.
Bakers laughed while kneading dough.
Warriors wandered in wearing training clothes, stealing pieces of fruit as cooks swatted them away with wooden spoons.
An older woman looked up from rolling pastry.
"Well, good morning."
Aveline immediately bowed her head.
"I'm sorry."
The woman blinked.
"For breakfast?"
"I..."
"I shouldn't be here."
"Nonsense."
The cook wiped flour from her hands before walking over.
"You must be Aveline."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm Margaret."
She smiled warmly.
"The Alpha warned us you'd apologize for breathing."
Heat flooded Aveline's cheeks.
"I don't..."
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
"You just did."
A few nearby cooks chuckled.
Not cruelly.
Kindly.
Margaret gestured toward an empty chair.
"Sit."
"I couldn't."
"You can."
"I..."
"I should help."
Margaret crossed her arms.
"Can you cook?"
"A little."
"What can you make?"
Aveline hesitated.
"Bread."
"Stew."
"Pies."
"Roast."
"Soup."
"Preserves."
Margaret's eyes widened.
"So..."
"You can cook."
"I suppose."
The older woman smiled.
"Wonderful."
"You can help..."
"...after breakfast."
Aveline froze.
"After?"
Margaret nodded as though it were obvious.
"No one works hungry."
The words struck her harder than they should have.
No one...
Works hungry.
She quietly sat.
A steaming mug of tea appeared in front of her.
Then fresh bread.
Honey.
Fruit.
Eggs.
She stared.
"This is..."
"...for me?"
Margaret laughed.
"Unless one of the ravens learned to eat eggs."
A tiny laugh escaped Aveline before she could stop it.
Several cooks smiled.
Elsewhere...
Theodore stood in the Citadel training yard watching warriors spar.
Rowan joined him.
"You knew she'd be in the kitchen."
Theo didn't look away from the practice ring.
"I hoped."
Rowan smirked.
"You've already memorized her routine."
"No."
"You've asked Clara three times whether she's sleeping."
Theo sighed.
"I have responsibilities."
"You certainly do."
Rowan folded his arms.
"One of which apparently includes worrying whether your mate has eaten breakfast."
Theo gave him a look.
"I'm giving her space."
"You are."
"And you're miserable doing it."
Theo's expression softened.
"I don't want her healing because she's afraid of disappointing me."
"I want her healing because..."
He paused.
"...because she deserves to."
Rowan's teasing smile disappeared.
"You're already in love."
Theo looked toward the mountains.
"I think..."
"I have been since the moment I smelled her."
After breakfast, Margaret handed Aveline an apron.
"No heavy lifting."
"Doctor's orders."
Aveline spent the next hour chopping vegetables, kneading dough, and quietly organizing overflowing pantry shelves.
Margaret watched with growing amazement.
"You've done this before."
"Every day."
"You move like you've run kitchens."
"I mostly cleaned them."
Margaret frowned.
"Mostly?"
Aveline nodded.
"Sometimes I cooked when Marta was ill."
"No one knew."
"You never received credit?"
Aveline looked confused.
"I was only helping."
Margaret's heart broke a little.
By late morning...
Doctor Whitmore found her dusted in flour.
"I wondered where you'd disappeared."
Aveline looked guilty.
"I'm sorry."
Whitmore laughed.
"I walked right into that one."
Margaret winked.
"She's trying."
"I can see that."
Whitmore looked at Aveline.
"Come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"Outside."
The Ravenswood training grounds overlooked a sparkling alpine lake.
Hundreds of warriors practiced beneath the morning sun.
Some sparred with swords.
Others trained hand-to-hand.
Several young wolves practiced shifting drills under the supervision of instructors.
Aveline stopped walking.
"I don't belong here."
Whitmore smiled.
"No."
"You don't."
She looked confused.
"You belong over there."
She pointed toward a quieter section of the grounds.
There...
Alpha Celeste Ashbourne stood watching several warriors train.
She was breathtaking.
Tall.
Dark-skinned.
Regal.
Her silver-gray hair was braided intricately beneath a delicate circlet.
She wore fitted black trousers beneath an elegant military coat instead of a gown, a ceremonial sword resting comfortably against one hip.
Everything about her radiated confidence.
She turned before anyone announced them.
Piercing amber eyes settled immediately on Aveline.
"So."
Her voice was smooth as velvet.
"You're the girl everyone's talking about."
Aveline immediately curtsied.
"My Alpha."
Celeste laughed softly.
"I like her already."
She walked forward.
Not intimidating.
Simply...
Certain.
"I am Alpha Celeste Ashbourne."
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
Aveline kept her eyes lowered.
"The pleasure is mine."
Celeste circled her slowly.
"You've been studying."
Aveline blinked.
"I..."
"You watch everything."
"You listen."
"You think before you speak."
She smiled knowingly.
"Those are the habits of a leader."
Aveline's eyes widened.
"No."
"I'm only—"
"Don't."
Celeste interrupted gently.
"I know exactly what you were about to say."
"I'm only a servant."
"I'm only an omega."
"I'm only..."
She tilted her head.
"...whatever they've convinced you that you are."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally Celeste folded her hands behind her back.
"Tomorrow morning."
"Six o'clock."
Aveline frowned.
"My Alpha?"
"Wear trousers."
Confusion spread across her face.
"I don't own trousers."
Celeste smiled.
"You do now."
She turned toward Whitmore.
"See that she has proper training clothes."
Then she looked back at Aveline.
"We're going to discover what you're actually capable of."
Before Aveline could ask another question, Celeste walked away.
Doctor Whitmore smiled.
"You've just been recruited."
"For what?"
Whitmore looked toward the powerful Alpha disappearing across the field.
"The best leadership lessons on the continent."
Aveline watched Celeste go, utterly bewildered.
For the first time in her life...
Someone had looked at her...
And seen potential instead of weakness.
- Writer
