*Maddy*
I need to run now. I can feel Reginald's fury starting to suffocate the room. He’s still arguing with one of the well-dressed men who is now shouting in his face. I understand nothing.
A few of the women dressed in fine gowns start to walk out of the ballroom, their faces drawn in disappointment. I glance around quickly, trying to keep my battered face shielded from the Prince–no, the Alpha King.
He’s the Alpha King now. I hadn’t realized until I saw him, but the crest he wears on his lapel confirms it.
He hasn’t recognized me. I didn’t expect him to. It’s been three years, after all. And I look nothing like the rosy cheeked teenager I’d been when he’d asked me to dance at his birthday ball.
He’s as handsome as ever with the same dark hair as his father and his mother’s bright blue eyes. I remember them well from the ball. The scent of bergamot and leather waft off of him, making my lower abdomen tighten, but I’m not here to throw myself at the king. It seems clear we’re not wanted. I need to get out of here. Now.
As the small crowd departs the ballroom, I take a risk and slip away, walking behind a voluptuous blonde woman and whom I believe to be her mother.
“You did so well, my dear,” the older blonde woman croons as I follow a few steps behind through the grand foyer. I don’t know what they are talking about or what that means. It’s all just noise to me.
“I know I did,” the younger woman grins, throwing her hair over her shoulder. Her golden locks glintin the soft light of the sparkling chandelier over our heads. “I’ll need a new wardrobe. And when I become the Luna I’ll need to bring Henriette with me to redecorate this Goddess forsaken fortress. I’ve heard the rose garden is lovel in the summer, but I much prefer dahlias. The whole thing will need to be ripped out by the roots and replaced.”
I listen to her speak and catch a few words I know. Rose. I know what that means. She’s talking about the flowers, and I think she doesn’t like them. I remembered the rose garden from the ball. I’d slipped away and walked outside, running my fingers over the lush red petals. I’d smelled of roses for a week afterwards. I’d never seen a garden more beautiful, and the thought of someone not liking it makes me wonder who this woman is.
Did she say Luna??
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters right now is running for my life and getting the hell out from underneath Reginald’s scheming.
The woman and her mother turn one direction, and I dart toward a door I’m praying will lead me outside. I push it open, and a burst of cold air hits me in the face.
Clumps of melting snow hug the grounds of the mansion–a castle of gleaming white and silver–as I scurry down the path.
But at the gates I spot two young women talking in hushed tones. They glance up at me. One of them has tears in her eyes, the other looks annoyed.
“Didn’t make the cut either?” the dark haired young woman says with a pout.
I cock my head, wishing she’d spoken slower so I could understand her.
“My father’s going to be so disappointed,” her mousy blonde companion sniffles. “He’ll make me be a priestess at this rate. The Alpha doesn’t host any balls. How are we supposed to make matches with men if he doesn’t even hold Moon Goddess Balls?”
Their words are rapid and harsh as they speak. I catch a few words I recognize, but I was never taught the language. Elodie is fluent, but Louisa hadn’t seen a reason for me to attend those lessons.
“Lorena will likely be the Luna,” the dark haired woman sneers. “She’s such a bitch. Did you hear her speaking so softly and kindly to the Alpha King? I’m tempted to march in there and tell him who she really is when she’s not acting–”
“There you are,” Reginald growls. I go rigid as his hand wraps around my upper arm. “Making friends?”
I open my mouth. Both women are staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I can’t speak to them. Unless they know my language, anything that comes out of my mouth will be useless.
Help me. I’ve been kidnapped. I’m here against my will.
I should’ve never stopped next to them, but scrambling off into the forest seemed pointless. I can’t shift because I’m too weak, and there’s probably a stone wall and guards out there.
How was I ever going to get away?
Reginald is careful not to manhandle me in front of the guards, but once we’re through the gate and into his car, I wait for the sting of the slap I know is coming my way.
But it doesn’t come.
Reginald is grinning like a madman at his driver. He turns to me, looking me up and down before saying in my language, “You have a meeting with the king in a few days. We don’t have much time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” I choke on the words, my throat dry from lack of use. “Why was I brought before the king? What is this?”
“I spent a fortune on you, and I mean to triple that return.” He looks me over carefully before snorting and facing the windshield. He pulls out a phone and presses it to his ear, ignoring me completely for the remainder of the ride.
I can’t understand a word he’s saying, but when we arrive back at his run-down townhouse in the bowels of a city I can’t name, Glenda is waiting for me.
Reginald grabs me by the arm in the foyer and whirls me around to face him. He inspects me like I’m a cow he has an interest in buying for meat, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. He says a few things to Glenda, who nods her assent. Then to me, he says, “We have a week to prepare for this meeting. You must go alone. That was the deal. You’re to seduce the king, and make him fall in love with you in the hour he’s permitted for the meeting.”
“An hour? I don’t know the language–” Everything that has just come out of Reginald’s mouth is asinine, but a thought strikes me as his words settle. An hour alone. With the king, yes, but still… I could slip away to a bathroom and make my way out of the castle. When we were leaving, I got a better look at hte walls. I think I could climb last season's vines to the top and run away.
An hour is plenty of time for a head start.
“You will practice with a tutor for the next six days. Other than that, you will eat and gain weight. Glenda will make sure you eat every scrap you’re given.”
I shrink away from him as he leans in. He says nothing else but holds my gaze like he’s trying to drill the words into my mind.
“Behave yourself.”
Dread washes over me. A week trapped in this house. A week taking lessons so I can speak the language. A week left plotting, if I can keep my mind off my own demise.
From our trip to the Alpha King’s home–based on the small group of well-bred women vying for his attention–I gather he is looking for something in particular. Not a breeder. The word Luna springs to my mind and shatters like glass as something sharp and heavy cuts through my chest.
He isn’t the clear-eyed prince who danced with me that night. Not anymore. When his eyes had locked on mine just hours ago, I felt nothing between us. Not a hint of recognition. Not a breath of something warm and familiar.
Why does he want a Luna so badly he’ll sacrifice that position in his home, and his heart, in lieu of a mate?
I barely register Glenda leading me upstairs and forcing me into a hot bath. The corset left deep wells in my skin that tingle against the scalding water.
I eat as much as I can that night. Reginald wants me to gain weight so I looked healthy and capable of breeding an heir for the king. I want to gain weight, to gain muscle, so I can run as far away as possible.
The next day, the tutor comes–a rigid older gentleman with a face like a crow and eyes just as black and beady. He’s neither gentle nor kind.
“Hands flat on the table,” he commands in my language. He runs me through a series of responses to simple questions and commands.
Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes, Your Highness. No, Your Highness.
I pick up as much as I can, willing my mind to expand and allow the words to settle and become familiar.
By the end of the first day, we’ve moved on to more complicated phrases, all of which are tuned to keep my tongue in check and obedient.
How may I service you? Do you need a drink? Are you well?
How may I service you?
How may I service you?
Everytime I mess up, my fingers are swatted with a long, narrow stick. By the time I crawl into bed and tuck my knees to my chest, my fingers are blistered and raw. Glenda rubs my hands with an ointment that tingles and burns, but the next day I wake to find my skin is fresh and new, no trace of the punishment from the day before.
“Now, tell me your name.”
I hesitate, unable to remember the long, complicated name Reginald gave me.
“G-Geneivene Aloura M-Martin–”
Swat.
“Faster. Do not stumble over the words.”
I do as I’m told until my real name feels foreign. I haven’t heard anyone say Maddy in days. Even when I whisper it to myself at night, it doesn’t feel like it’s mine.
Maybe Maddy died the night I was taken from Louisa’s home. Maybe that’s a good thing.
“Hello,” I say, bobbing into a curtsy as Glenda hustles in a circle around me, clothes pins tucked between her pursed lips. “How do you do? Are you well, my King?”
Swat.
“Mind your accent.”
“Hello. My n-name is–was Gen–”
Swat.
Swat.
Swat.
By the fifth night of my lessons, I can effectively communicate if I’m aiming to please, which seems to be Reginald’s only desire. Nothing about my tutelage helps me ask simple questions like, “Where is the restroom?” Or, “I’m hurt. Where is the pack healer?”
Or, “Help me! I was kidnapped. I’m not actually an Alpha’s daughter. I was sold by my stepmother into slavery. The man who says he’s my uncle is a deranged, violent lunatic who is tricking you.”
I am not a princess. I am nothing. I don’t even have a wolf.
“Alpha King,” I say, curtsying for the millionth time in front of a filthy full length mirror. Glenda and Clare have fashioned me a beautiful dress to wear to my interview with the king in only a few hours’ time.
Emerald green silk cascades down my hips all the way to the floor, and tiers of lace fan out around my thin waist and clings to my bodice.
A week of nourishing food in excess has given me a glow, my cheeks a soft rose, and my eyes clearer and sharper than I remember them being.
It’s a shame the dress will be ruined by the end of the night.
“It’s rather chilly,” I say in my own language. “Is there a cloak and some gloves I can wear?”
Glenda and Clare just stare at me until I grow frustrated and pull the sheets off my bed, mimicking the motion I will make when I drape a clock over my trembling shoulders. Glenda snaps her fingers at Clare, who scurries away and returns with a cloak.
No gloves. My shoes are made of the same fabric as the dress with fabric soles that will tear immediately if I have to run.
So be it. I clasp the cloak over my shoulders, running my fingertips over the gray wool.
Reginald isn’t home. He will not be escorting me. But a large, burly man with eyes that are dead, save for flickers of violence, meets me at the front door. “Boss says yer to behave. If ya fail, we get to pass ya around tonight.” He gives me a devious smile.
I can understand his words only because of the glimmer of pure lust in his eyes as his gaze lingers on my chest.
I swallow my fear and bury it deep down inside until I can longer taste it.
I will not allow these men to touch me. Once I’m behind those gates, I will grasp the first opportunity I have, and I will run. I will not stop until the forest beyond the castle walls swallows me whole.
And I am safe.
And free.
For the first time since my father died.