Elara
I braced myself as the maids pushed open the large doors, ushering me into a room dressed in gold chandeliers and red velvet curtains — one more beautiful thing among the dozen I'd already seen that morning. The table stretched long enough to seat ten, but only two chairs sat pulled out, one at each far end. One for Alpha Klaus. One for the bride.
Me.
A maid drew back my chair and I sat, wincing as the corset dug into my ribs. I might die of suffocation before I even made it to the part where he decided whether to kill me. I shifted in my seat and smoothed my skirt flat.
The dishes came out one after another — scrambled eggs glistening with butter, bread still warm enough to steam, wine the color of dark garnet, fruit I didn't have names for. My stomach answered before my mind did, growling loud enough that heat rushed to my cheeks.
I waited anyway. Courtesy demanded it, and some small, foolish part of me thought maybe he'd let me eat first, before whatever came next.
Minutes crawled by. I'd just reached for a piece of bread when the doors opened, and I snatched my hand back so fast I nearly knocked over my water glass.
Not him. A maid.
The breath I let out nearly doubled me over with relief.
She crossed to me and leaned close. "The Alpha won't be joining you this morning, my lady. You may eat without him."
I felt my whole face break into a smile before I could stop it — wide, involuntary, the kind that clearly startled her more than it reassured her. It was the best news I'd had since I opened my eyes in this palace.
I didn't waste it. I ate until the ache in my stomach finally quieted.
The table was cleared the moment I set down my fork. A maid moved to lead me back toward my room, and I stopped her, insisting I needed a walk first, to settle my stomach. She offered the garden instead. I agreed before she'd finished the sentence.
Not for the fresh air. For the routes. For the walls, the guards, the gates — anything that might matter later, when I made my move.
I'm leaving tonight. No matter what it costs me.
The garden stole some of my resolve without asking permission. Trees arched overhead in shapes too deliberate to be accidental, flowers carved into patterns that looked more like art than nature.
We found a sitting area tucked deep inside it, and I lowered myself onto the bench, patting the space beside me. "Join me."
The maid shook her head. "It's not allowed, my lady."
"Why not? It's just the two of us. And please — stop calling me my lady. My name is Elara. What's yours?"
"Penelope." Her eyes flicked toward the hedges. "Penny, for short, my la—"
I gave her a look, and she caught herself.
"Call me Elara when we're alone," I said. "We're probably close to the same age."
She sat, leaving a careful distance between us, perched like she might need to bolt any second. Something about it pulled a laugh out of me.
"How long have you worked in the palace, Penny?"
"Since I was seven." Her voice came out quiet, her eyes still scanning the hedges.
"Relax," I said. "Nothing's going to happen."
"So tell me," I pressed, keeping my voice light. "Are the rumors true?"
"What rumors?" She wouldn't meet my eyes.
"About the Alpha. Killing his brides. Is it true, Penny?"
Her whole posture changed in an instant — shoulders drawn tight, hands twisting together.
"My lady." She was on her feet before I'd finished processing the shift. "We must never speak ill of the Alpha. We need to go back now, before I get into trouble."
Her hands trembled as she clasped them together. I didn't push further. I already had my answer, even without the words.
"Alright." I stood.
We walked back to my room in silence. Penny helped me change into something looser and reminded me to ring the bell if I needed anything — reminded me, too, that I wasn't to leave the room, that guards waited just outside.
I sat on the edge of the bed once she'd gone and tried to build a plan out of nothing. Every door I'd counted that morning was watched. Every hallway had a maid finding some reason to linger. There was no version of walking out unnoticed.
Evening came faster than I wanted it to. If I was going to move, it had to be before the ritual began.
I rang the bell and waited behind the door with the candlestick from the bathroom standoff still gripped in my hand.
The moment Penny stepped through, I swung.
Just hard enough. Not enough to do real harm — I told myself that even as my stomach turned at the way she crumpled without a sound. I eased her down onto the rug, locked the door, and started stripping out of my dress.
We traded clothes with clumsy, frantic hands. I dragged her onto the bed and arranged the sheets over her like she'd simply fallen asleep. Her uniform hung differently on me, rougher against my skin, and I folded a stack of washcloths into a bundle I could press against my face — enough to blur my features to anyone who only glanced twice.
Then I opened the door and walked out into the hallway like I belonged there. A slight nod to the guards at my door and to other maids walking past me, and hiding away from anyone who might recognize me.
My escape was finally in motion.