Miracle of the Moon Goddess

3: Court Summons

“Introducing Prince Terra Wolfslayer and his concubine Angel The Wolfqueen! The Prince is accompanied by two of his sired daughters, Celeste The Wolfprincess, and Theophania!” is called out as we enter the ballroom.

I can’t see who the speaker is, but I have no problem hearing. Same with anyone else in the ballroom as they turn towards us. Since my father is the fifth to the throne, everyone becomes quiet and bows to him. They open a path over to my grandmother, Empress Aubrey, giving us room to walk directly to her. Father bows and kisses his mother’s hand. It’s the closest thing to affection I’ve seen between them. I can say many terrible things about my father, but nothing compares to my grandmother, one of the most ancient elves out there.

When our grandmother looks our way, Thea and I courtesy to her. We put on our best fake smiles, hiding the turmoil in our gut. We exchange pleasantries. Thea does a great job. She’s quiet whenever she’s not spoken to, answers questions politely, and doesn’t put in more words than necessary. When I was her age, I’m pretty sure I did not do half this good in court. I’m not sure if I’m half as good now, and I’ve been here several times.

As we continue the polite small talk I stop myself from asking questions and dragging in mom to our conversation. Mom does her usual thing when she’s at court, giving the same acknowledgment to the Empress as the Empress gives to her. They always end up ignoring each other unless they have to communicate.

The only reason mom is invited to court as often as she is has only to do with status. Mom is not only the highest ranking concubine, but she is a Queen in her own right. Something my grandmother does not want to acknowledge. I’ve asked why, since my father is working to save mom’s home world, but no one has been able to give me a satisfying answer.

The other elves at court seem to have some sort of respect for mom. I’m not sure it is because they are bored and her bravery is entertaining to them, or if they actually like my mom. I’m never around them much, except for a select few who used to visit mom regularly before she began losing her mom. Especially Lady Taniya and her family who I consider as friendly. Her son, Eldarion, and Damien still hang out regularly from what I can tell, sharing their love of male magic. I can’t see any of them here though.

After too long a time for my liking I notice more chairs are brought into the room. Grandmother sits herself in her throne, which was here the whole time, and as the chairs are placed, my family sit ourselves on the same dais as the throne, together with some elves I’ve never seen before.

As soon as enough chairs are put in place, slaves begin to bring in tables and place them before us. It’s all a weird dance. It would have been easier to let the chairs and tables stay in another room, but that doesn't suit the Empress herself. No, she is forcing her slaves to bring the table to her so they can serve the meal in her throne room.

The slaves carry the meal in huge serving trays with too much food in them. Each tray contains a special dish, and there will only be one one of each type. Which means there are perhaps over 200 different dishes of food for a gathering this large and every dish is first served to grandmother, my parents, the elves seated with us before me and Thea are served. After that the meals go out in random order so for the people not on the dais it’s impossible to know what they are eating.

I keep an eye out for Thea, but our Mothers have taught her well. If we want any of the food offered, we do a slight twitch of our fingers, very subtle movements that are hard to read for newer slaves. If you are fidgeting or trembling in fear, which is not unheard of, slaves will keep filling food onto your plate. It’s a source for entertainment for the court and I’d hate it to happen to Thea. The nervous guest gets mocked for their inability to keep their cool.

When I sense an almost soundless groan from Thea, I look at her. A young slave with bright and beautiful feathers fills Thea’s glass with mulled mushroom juice. Nothing shows on her face, but Thea dislikes this elven delicacy. Something we have bonded over more than once.

I almost comment on her save when she accepts the beverage. She will not be mocked by the court, and she is so incredibly brave for accepting the drink. She’s too young to force herself to drink something so repulsive. Instead of saying anything I smile to her as she takes the first sip. That's all I can offer. I’m in awe of this young sister of mine. My first meeting with our grandmother did not go over so well. So much so that I’m almost jealous of my little sister.

I’ve had my fill by the time the meal is over, and it’s over when the Empress herself is finished. If you’re still hungry, then too bad for you. As soon as she gives the signal, slaves remove all signs of food and take away the heavy wooden tables. The slaves replace everything from the meal with trays of drinks in a matter of minutes.

Before I can get up from my chair to mingle, like I usually do, the young birdlike slave who served Thea the mushroom drink stumbles in front of the dais, spilling glass everywhere. I don’t miss the elf who just stretched out his foot nonchalantly, as a smirk displays on his face.

Instantly I want to get up and help the poor woman, but if I do, her life will be over. And if I do the other thing I want to do, kill the bastard, my life might be over. It pains me to take in the trembling form lying sprawled in front of us. Desperately, the slave tries to pick up the glass pieces from the floor. Guards enter, and one of them steps on her hand. That’s when grandmother, the Empress herself, speaks up.

“Do not damage its feathers.” She doesn’t raise her voice. Empress Aubrey is a woman who knows her orders will be enforced if she so much as whispers. The guards bow, acknowledging her command.

As the silence descends in the ballroom, I grab Thea’s hand to keep her calm. She needs to remain seated for whatever will happen to the slave. Thea holds on to me as hard as she can, her knuckles getting white. There is barely a tremble on her lips. Her heart is beating faster, something I wouldn’t have noticed before I met my wolf half. My heart runs in the same off-beat. We both know what we are about to witness.

The slaves nearby follow Empress Aubrey’s orders by cleaning up the glass with quick movements and bringing a cane to the guards. As soon as the floor is swept clean from anything that might damage the feathers, she is put down on the floor again. They lay her belly down, arms out, and her feet locked in place by two heavy-muscled orcs as elven guards beat the soles of her feet. Not one feather is ruffled during the ordeal.

The only orcs I’ve seen are at court at events like this one. Usually, orcs are farmers since they are not beautiful. There is one exception to this: torturing other slaves. Elven guards do not want to touch the slaves they are tormenting and orcs are stronger than most other people.

For every whimper escaping the feathered slave, Thea crushes my hand harder. My sister is too young to watch this. I’m too young for this, and I want to scream for them to stop! I want to help the woman, but death is the only blessing I can give her. She might wish it, but I’m locked in my seat, too repulsed by the noble’s delight in the pain inflicted.

Not wanting to watch anymore, I peek over to grandmother, which is a mistake. Her glee makes me sicker, and the meal I have just ingested does not sit well with me. The four male true elves invited to sit with us on the dais laugh together. When I think the scene is too terrible to get worse, I notice one of the true elves clapping the back of the one who made the slave stumble as if congratulating for the great show.

When it’s all over, I keep holding Thea’s hand. Her grip is firm, so much so that I might not have blood left in my hand. It’s worth it though. She doesn’t meet my gaze, but my mother’s eyes do, and silent communication goes between us. As soon as we can get Thea away, we will.

Getting up to mingle, we slowly drift away from the dais. We never get very far since grandmother and father keep pulling me back into their conversation with the four men. Noticing the trend, I hint to mom to leave without me. She is angry but accepts. Thea needs to get away from the worst of it. I pry Thea’s hand from mine as mom takes over, and I’m left alone among the true elves.

Stuck alone, with no one having my back, I try to talk to the others politely. I take my time to inspect the four men I haven’t met before. They all have the traditional court costume with ruffles and lace. The bright colors on them indicate they come from high society, but aren’t necessarily nobles and royalty.

Two of the men have graying hair, telling me they might be among the first generation of elves. The archaic way they speak, including one of the two younger-looking ones, confirms this. Even if the last of them seems to be their junior by several centuries, he too is too old for comfort.

I’ve never responded well to the older male true elves - my father is no exception to that. The younger elves are not much better, but I can usually speak to them without feeling my skin crawling. Also among the younger elves are exceptions, like my brother Damien’s friend Eldarion.

Lord Melkor, the one speaking old-fashioned but without graying hair, was the one who made the feathered slave stumble. Every time he speaks to me, I hold my breath. I have to concentrate on what he says, so I don’t explode. When we see pretty feathers in front of us, my wolf almost snarls at Melkor, something that would reveal her presence.

Limping between us, the slave serves us drinks. From her frozen face, I guess she does everything she can not to make a sound for every step she takes. I meet her fleeting gaze and give her a brief smile in sympathy, hating myself for not knowing what else to do. She might not even have noticed the small show of compassion I can give her without risking her life; she is in so much pain.

“I want to rip their throats out!” My wolf growls in my head, and I cannot agree more.

I hate this so much! I wish I wasn’t so useless! I wish father would begin the liberation of the wolf world so I can rule it and free all slaves. I don’t care that this is the elven way of living. I rather live like the stories mom has told me about. A place where everyone was free.

I’ve promised my Mothers to lie low while I wait for the right opportunity, just like my father has asked me, but everytime I come to court I grow restless. I don’t think I can hold out for much longer. Eventually, seeing all this abuse will affect me. It will either turn me crazy like my mother, or worse; I will become like my father, cold and uncaring. It might be too late for them, but it isn’t for me.

“Are you listening, girl?” repeats Lord Malekith, not hiding his irritation. From what I’ve gathered, he is the oldest of the four men grandmother wants me to speak to. He even has a few wrinkles, which are rare for elves, and might be around the same age as my grandmother.

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” I blink innocently. This is not my first time in the fire, so I move straight to my favorite defense: “I had an exciting lecture today, and I’m still thinking of one problem presented to me.” I add a slight smile that makes me seem dumb.

“I don’t need you to think, girl. I need you to answer your betters respectfully,” he gruff, and I do everything I can to keep up my smile.

“Why have you allowed her to develop like this?” he asks my father. An angry vein pops up in father’s temple, the only show of emotions.

“I had other plans for the girl, but Empress Aubrey is wiser than me,” father smiles back and inclines his head in respect for his mother.

I play his words in my head again, and it suddenly hits me why I’m speaking to these men. They are here to examine me as a wife for a son or something. I knew this day would come, but I did not think I would be this young. Elves are immortal and do not marry young. Even if I don’t inherit that trait from my father, I will live for centuries. There is no need for me to get married this early.

Besides, from what I understood, my father’s grand plan was to make me queen of mom’s world first. Has grandmother forced him to abandon that plan? Or is it just a change of order? Why would she do this? And why now?

Ice creeps up my spine. Their leering eyes are not saying potential wife for son, but something so much worse. And they are all so old! What if my father wants me to marry one of these old men? None of them will care for me to keep me safe from harm. Everything I’ve seen today proves it.

But I can’t be stuck in my head. I need to perform this dance they have dressed me up for. Not wanting to anger Lord Malekith further, I force myself to listen to the question asked by the youngest of the four, Lord Beldun, and I almost recoil in shock.

“Are you pure?” he asks, his face smug.

The questions have been innocent enough until now, but this is private, and he is crude. How could Lord Beldun ask something like this? Of course, I haven’t had s*x! It’s not like I ever had the chance! And if the remote chance came, there would be so many repercussions it’s not worth it. To be honest, I think so now, not having had the chance, but I don’t think I will jump into a situation like that if it presents itself. At least, I hope so, even if I dream of being touched every night.

“Answer him, girl,” Lord Malekith chides.

My cheeks turn red and my heartbeats get louder, drowning out the sounds made by the rest of the people in the ballroom. My eyes move to the floor. I try to hug myself to keep myself still. Nothing good will come from it if I run away in embarrassment. I give a small nod in answer to the question.

“Really?” Lord Beldun sounds doubtful. “I would have thought with a mother like yours you would have been experienced by now.” By how his shoes move, I assume he’s turning to the other men in the group. “I prefer the more experienced ones. They are more fun. When cleaned, of course,” he laughs, and they all join in, even my father and grandmother.

“Don’t tease the girl. Some of us like innocence.” Lord Algar, the last of the men, adds when the laughter dies down. He lifts my chin to study my sprouting red face. “You will do, girl. I will keep my claim of her as a concubine after this meeting.”

Concubine? Father has spoken to me about a husband in the future, not that I was supposed to become a concubine! Mother was right! I should have listened to her when she warned me about father’s plans and not dismissed it had to do with her mind fading. A building red rage replaces the embarrassed red on my face.

I keep my tongue while the three others add their claims to me as a concubine. Lord Beldun and Lord Melkor even promise to give me some experience in bed anytime I want. The mere thought makes my stomach twist, and I think back on how Lord Melkor tripped a slave for fun, and how much Lord Beldun congratulated Lord Melkor for the show. These two men are not anyone I want to share a bed with, no matter if it’s as a concubine or wife. Not that I’m interested in the two others either.