BLOOD MATES

Chapter Two

I brought a brush to comb out the knots in my hair, noticing how tangled it had become. To make it easier, I applied a little olive oil to the ends. As I ran the brush through my long black locks, I couldn't help but admire my features in the mirror. With my blue eyes and small pointed nose, it brought out the dimples on my left cheek. I chuckled at the sight, acknowledging how my fair complexion complemented my overall appearance. Helen stood behind me, absentmindedly touching her stomach. Seeing her glowing with pregnancy, I couldn't help but smile and say, "Pregnancy suits you, Helen." She blushed and replied with gratitude, "Thank you. Oh, I nearly forgot, you need to wear the gown." She retrieved the dress from the bed, and I eagerly observed its gorgeousness. Helen had always possessed a keen fashion sense, and this deep red gown was no exception.

With my hair now tied in a neat bun, I stood up and accepted the dress from Helen. She graciously assisted me with fastening the back, ensuring a perfect fit. I admired myself in the mirror, pleased with my body's appearance. The corset accentuated my breasts, creating a slim waist and an hourglass figure. By now, it was well-known that I had a naturally slim body, but my curves added charm to my otherwise slender form. My contemplation was interrupted by Helen's smile and affirmation, "You will make a beautiful bride." Turning to face her, I furrowed my brows and questioned, "What do you mean by that?" I narrowed my piercing blue eyes. "Helen, what aren't you telling me? We both know I'm not particularly fond of discussing marriage." Helen shook her head, her gaze avoiding mine. "I promise I'm not hiding anything from you. I was simply admiring you." However, I could always tell when Helen was being dishonest because she couldn't maintain eye contact when telling a lie. Sensing something was amiss, I was about to press the matter further when Helen abruptly rushed to the door, opening it for me. "Well, look at the time. We're already late for the ball," she claimed, catching me off guard. I sighed, feeling perplexed. "What ball? In this current situation? Helen, you never mentioned anything about a ball." She rolled her eyes and responded with a dismissive tone, "Uh... that slipped my mind." In disbelief, I hurried back to my vanity to quickly powder my face and apply a touch of red balm to my lips. With a sense of urgency, I rushed towards the door, eager to discover the reason behind this sudden celebration amidst the turmoil that plagued our kingdom. As I made my way through the corridors, the palace staff carried trays of delectable food and glasses of wine, their faces filled with forced cheer. It was disconcerting to witness such feasting and merriment when our kingdom was in dire need of unity and strength.

Finally, I stood before the grand doors of the throne room. They swung open, and I stepped inside. Promptly, an aged butler announced my arrival, "Princess Amelia of Cornelia." The room fell into silence as all eyes turned towards me. The guests, whether indulging in laughter or taking sips of their drinks, paused their activities. Bowing gracefully, I acknowledged their deference and made my way towards my parents, the King and Queen of Cornelia. As I approached, they too rose from their thrones, a mixture of sternness and vulnerability in their expressions. I curtsied before them, the weight of the upcoming conversation lingering in the air.

Once I took my seat beside my mother, a tender smile graced her lips as she gazed at me, her voice infused with a hint of sadness, "You look lovely, Amelia." I thanked her, feeling a pang of curiosity tugging at my heart. My father, however, scoffed and responded with a hint of annoyance, "You are late." I couldn't help but chuckle softly, trying to ease the tension that was palpable within the room. "Better late than never, father. Besides, I was not aware there was cause for celebration. To whom do we owe the honor of this ball?" My words hung in the air, a subtle challenge directed at my father's decision.

His face tightened, and a deep sigh escaped him. "I threw this ball in your honor," he admitted reluctantly. Confusion clouded my mind as I fixed my gaze upon my mother, silently pleading for answers. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "I am sorry, my dear Amelia. I truly am."

Shocked and unsettled, I demanded clarification. "What exactly are you sorry for? What is happening?" My impatience began to show, and my anger simmered beneath the surface. My father warned me to watch my tone, threatening a "good flogging" later. Memories of past punishments flickered through my mind, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the gravity of the current situation. My mother, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, glanced towards the door. Her eyes flickered with a mix of sorrow and resolve as she finally spoke, "We have important matters to discuss. It is best if we save them for later, my dear."

A sense of unease settled over me as I observed the strained expressions of the courtiers around us. Ignoring the tension between my parents, I took a deep breath, determined not to let my emotions get the better of me. "If I may, father, I would like to go for a run. My wolf yearns for it, and it may clear my mind amidst these uncertain times," I proposed, hoping to find solace and clarity in the company of nature.

My father's reaction was immediate. He turned his gaze towards me, his voice dripping with dominance. "Go for a run in the kingdom? In our current state? What about the safety of my wolf? And the safety of others? We have no choice but to remain confined for now."

His response fueled my frustration further. I couldn't fathom how feasting and pretending everything was normal had become the priority while our kingdom suffered. Suppressing my building anger, I replied, "But if we are truly meant to grieve, then this celebration seems misplaced. We should be mourning, not indulging in festivities. I wonder whose honor this ball truly serves." My words hung in the air, challenging the superficiality of the event.

My father's smile twisted into a deep scowl. "Watch your tone, child, or face the consequences. After this gathering, remember that a flogging may teach you respect," he threatened, his voice laced with authority.

Meanwhile, my mother remained silent, her attention fixated on the door once more.

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