Rejected under the Alpha's crown

Chapter 1: The Ground Under Their Feet From Rhea Grey's point of view My knees are cold on the floor. It always is. I put the rag in the bucket and squeeze it. The dirty water drips back with a soft splash. I press the cloth against the stone and scrub it in small circles. My arms hurt, but I keep going. The pain will only get worse if I stop. From above, laughter comes down. Easy. Carefree. Bright. It comes from the big room upstairs where the pack eats and drinks and forgets about people like me. Their boots never touch these floors. Soap and stone never make their hands blister. They laugh like the world has always been nice to them. I scrub harder. The smell of soap, old stone, and something sweet—maybe roasted meat—mix together. My stomach gets tight. I ate this morning, but hunger doesn't care. It can smell things. A shadow passes near me.. "Faster," a guard says without stopping. "Yes," I say softly, even though he's already gone. I keep my head down. I always do. It is safer that way. Eyes down. Shoulders small. Quiet steps. Quiet breath. Quiet heart. That's how you make it through life as an omega with a sick mother and a job that never ends. I go to the next tile. Scrub. Rinse. Again, scrub. The skin on my fingers has cracked, and it's hurting. I bend them once and then keep working. If I bleed on the floor, I will have to clean that too. Above me, another laugh breaks out. This time, louder. Someone shouts. I stop myself for a moment. Just for a moment. I can only imagine how it feels to laugh without being afraid. To throw your head back and not care who sees you. To be part of a warm and bright place. The thought hurts more than my hands do. I bow my head and scrub again. When the bell rings for lunch, my back hurts so much that I think it might break in half. I walk down the servants' hallway with my bucket, past gray walls and narrow doors, until I get to the small room I share with my mom. The door won't open. I push harder. It smells like sickness and herbs inside. My mother, Lydia, is lying on the bed with her thin arms crossed over her chest. Her lips are dry and her face is pale. Her breathing is shallow, as if she has to think about each breath she takes. "Ma?" I say in a whisper. Her eyes slowly open. When she sees me, she smiles. She always does, as if my face alone can fix what's wrong with her. She says softly, "You're late." "I'm sorry." I put the bucket down and run to her. "They made us stay longer." She nods, as if she knew that. I take a cloth and wipe her forehead. It's warm. Too hot. Her chest gets tight. She coughs, and it's rough and deep. She coughs again and shakes her whole body as she turns her head. I hold her hand. It feels so light in my hand that I could break it if I hold it too tightly. "I am here," I say. "Here I am." The cough goes away, but it makes her weak. Her breathing is harsh, and every breath hurts her throat. That sound makes me angry. It goes with me everywhere. Even when I'm working. Even when I'm asleep. "I'll get more water," I say. She shakes her head. "Sit down. "Just sit." I obeyed. I sit on the edge of the bed with my knees together and my hands folded in my lap like a child waiting to be scolded. She looks at my face. "Did you eat?" "Yes," I say, lying. She knows. She always knows what's going on. But she lets it go. After a moment, she says, "Rhea," her voice barely there, "you shouldn't work so hard." I smile because she wants me to. "I'm fine." Another lie. She raises her hand and touches my cheek. Her fingers are cold. "You're a good girl." Something tight wraps around my chest. I don't want to be good. I want to be free. I want to get out of here. I'd like to go to a safe, quiet place where my mom can rest and I can relax. But good girls don't dream too loudly. I tell her, "I saved more coins today." "I'll count them tonight." Her eyes get softer. "You shouldn't keep your life hidden under rocks." I think about the stone that is loose under the floorboard. Of the small pouch that is hidden there, it is full of coins I earn one ache at a time. I say, "It's safer." She sighs, as if she wants to argue t but doesn't have the energy. A horn goes off outside. Long, loud, and sharp. It goes through the walls and into my bones. My mom flinches. "What is that?" I already know. Everyone knows. Another horn responds. Then another. Voices full of excitement fill the halls. Feet quickly pass by our door. Doors are open. Doors slam shut. I get up slowly. I don't know why, but my heart is racing. "I'll see." I walk into the hallway. The air feels different. Charged. It looks like a storm is coming. As they hurry by, servants whisper to each other. "Did you hear?" "It's tonight." "They're going to announce it tonight." My stomach drops. As she walks by, a young maid grabs my arm. Her eyes sparkle. "The Mate Ceremony," she says, out of breath. "They're announcing it." My mouth gets dry. "Tonight?" She shakes her head. "In the great hall. Everyone must attend. Everyone. She runs away before I can say anything. I stand there with my hand still raised where she touched me. The Mate Ceremony. I swallow hard. I have heard about it all my life. How the Moon chose. How bonds are revealed. How one breath can change a life. I have never given myself the chance to hope for it. Hope can be dangerous. Hope makes you careless. Still, a small, silly part of me keeps whispering a name. Kale. I shake my head in anger at myself. Kale is nice. Kale is warm. Kale smiles at me as if I matter. But the Moon doesn't care what we want. I go back to the room. My mom keeps a close eye on me. "It's the Mate Ceremony," I say. She shuts her eyes for a second. When she opens her eyes, they are bright with tears that she won't let fall. She says, "That's important." I nod. "They want everyone to be there." She coughs again, but this time it's softer. "You should go." "I can't leave you." "You have to," she says firmly. "This is not a night to hide." I want to argue. I want to stay where it is safe and quiet. But the way she talks makes me think this is more important than my fear. "I promise I'll be back soon." She smiles, even though she's tired. "Put on the blue dress.” I don't know what to do. The dress in blue is old. faded. But it is clean, and it is the only one that ever made me feel a little less invisible. I nod. "Okay." I give her water and then step back into the noise. The estate is alive now. The torches are lit. There are guards in the halls. The big doors swing open. The laughter comes back, this time louder than before. Over my head. Always above me. Before I change, I stop by the loose stone. It is easy for my fingers to slip under it. I take out the little pouch and hold it tightly. Inside, the coins make a soft noise. My future doesn't weigh much at all. I put it back and push the stone into place. After that, I get dressed. The blue fabric hangs loosely on my thin body. I always tie my hair back the same way. Simple. Cool. Not worth remembering. I take a deep breath and walk toward the great hall. The sound hits me first. Voices. Many of them. Wolves, people, power, and pride. The doors are tall and heavy. I hesitate at the edge, my heart racing and my palms sweaty. I tell myself to just watch. Just stay in the back. Just take a breath. I walk in. The room's heat wraps around me. A lot of light comes into my eyes. I blink and lower my head, looking for a spot near the wall. The Alpha is in front. I don't look at him. I don't ever. As an elderly person raises his staff, a hush starts to spread. He calls out, "It's time to announce the Mate Ceremony—" and his voice echoes. The word echoes through the hall. Through my chest. In my blood. Something stiffs inside me. A strange scent brushes my senses. Warm. Sharp. Strong. My breath stops. I hold on to the wall as the room tilts. The elder keeps talking, but his words get mixed up. Because the floor under my feet suddenly feels like it's going to break. And somewhere down the hall— The Alpha stops moving completely.