I could feel his presence. So domineering, almost suffocating. While I felt confident I could stay hidden, it was only a matter of time before he discovered my hiding space. Making a run for it didn’t seem a viable option. Besides, this is my garden. I have very few things that are mine, but this is one of them. How dare he intrude on my space.“ I have no desire to kill you, sir. Although perhaps I should since you are trespassing in a space that does not belong to you.” My hand slammed over my mouth in an attempt to stop any other words from carelessly falling out. After the words tumbled from my mouth, I was surprised I had the audacity to say them. I was strong and powerful, but I doubt I would prevail in a one on one fight with this stranger. I said what I said, though. At this point, I had to stand my ground and suppress my fear. Luckily this boldness came while I still remained hidden in the bushes. “Show yourself!” His tone flat and emotionless yet menacing nonetheless. He
“I will belong to no one, unless I choose it.” I saw amusement sparkle in his eyes. As quick as it came, it was gone. Replaced with a cold stare.“No one can escape their destiny.”He stepped away from me. His hand leaving my throat. “You should leave.” He commanded. “Did you forget this is my garden? Shouldn’t you be the one to leave?”In a flash he was upon me, his hand around my neck. “Do not test me, girl.” He growled. The roughness of his voice coupled with his hand on my throat had me wanting to make nothing but reckless decisions. “Why? Will you punish me if I do?” I said wantonly. I blushed at my boldness. Never before had I been so bold, especially to a strong male wolf. The shock of my boldness hit instantly, when I realized I was little riding hood in this scenario, not the big bad wolf. My lip trembled as the realization hit that I was playing outside of my league. “Punish you.” He said both words slowly and deliberately. His voice a deep rumble that reverberated ar
My body was heavy with exhaustion the next morning. The first hint of light was on the horizon and I was preparing the breads for breakfast. Bagels, danish, and croissants all had to be shaped and baked. As I portioned and formed the bagels I let my mind drift back to the night before. I am determined to identify last night's stranger. His aura seemed too strong to be a slave. He was likely a warrior assigned to the royal guard. He had to have already had his moon ceremony. His wolf was magnificent. The Kingdom of the Moon pack membership is by mating or invitation only. The royal pack is run on a very literal interpretation of rules of class and hierarchy, as is outlined in the sacred texts. No tradition is too antiquated to be enforced within this pack. Other packs comply with the rigid rules and strict interpretations when in the presence of the royal family and clergy. Once left to their own controls, the Alpha of the pack determines local customs and interpretations, but unde
The estate was bustling. The soft sounds of people conversing and working in the distance disrupted my walk to the chicken coops. Usually, the estate is tranquil. The only sounds are insects, livestock, and birds. This time of year, I listen to the long whistle mating calls of the quail. I walk on a cut path through the field to the coop and on occasion will startle a pair of quail from the grasses and delight in watching the way they waddle run to the next hiding spot. I hear the starlings chirps and whistles. Their feathers a stunningly black iridescent speckled with rainbow hued white and brown. During the heat of the summer their beaks are a stark yellow, long with a sharp point. When I have a moment to steal away, I love laying in the fields watching the large flocks of starlings make shapes in the sky. If I was lucky I would see the beautiful red bird. Legends say that the red bird is a messenger from the spirit world. To cross paths with one is a sign that lost loved o
“Silk, satin, lace— oh yes! You MUST have lace, taffeta, chiffon, charmeuse, organza, tulle so much tulle! Oh we can do so much with what I’ve holed away all these years my girl!” Agatha gushed. We are tucked away in the corner of the sewing room with sketches strewn about the table and floor. It’s overwhelming. “Lace… ummmmm I—“ “Lace! Of course you will have lace! At least to cover your head for the temple ritual!” Agatha insisted. “I just want something simple. Not too complicated. Elegant and…” I was searching for a delicate way to tone down Agatha’s enthusiasm. “Oh you will be ELEGANT! Ravishing! Demure! You will be the talk of the moon ceremony. Nothing but the best for the Alpha’s daughter!” Agatha jubilantly decreed. Agatha has been at this estate as long as I remember. She served my father’s household before Osiris. She became a mother figure to me when he passed away. The next hour was filled with sketches of all sorts of dresses. Mermaid, trumpet, A-line,
“Malakai planned to hold the children of each alpha family of the realm hostage in exchange for each pack swearing fealty to him and proclaiming the Kingdom of the Moon pack the King and overall Alpha of the realm.” My father explained. The fire popped in dramatic timing. I gasped. The idea of being taken from papa and mother shook me to my core. “Th-that’s awful” I stammer barely above a whisper. “It was absolute panic. All the alphas awoke after the blood moon to discover their children had vanished. Each pack assembled hunting parties to search for the missing children. Malakai had taken the children into the deep cave system on the Kingdom of the Moon pack territory.” “Malakai then called a summit of all Alphas. It was held at the edge of our territory. Where the black woods meet the wheat fields at the northernmost tip.”My father had always warned against venturing too close to the black woods. The woods were so thick with trees and underbrush, it was shaded even on the most
“Professor says we have to sign up for the Harvest Fair by the end of the week.” Dmitry explained. “We have to enter at least one contest in order to get our participation grade.”“What contests will you be entering?” I asked as I prepared the vegetables for supper. Dmitry would tell me about his school day each afternoon as I made dinner for the staff and the Alpha’s family. This was the best part of my day. “I think my best chance is in wood crafts. I've been whittling a barn owl. His wings are outstretched and talons ready to snatch an unsuspecting field mouse.” “I can’t wait to see it!”“I definitely want to enter the pie eating contest. I’m sure I won’t win but losing never tasted so good!” He patted his belly in a fit of giggles. “I heard this year the pies will be made of carrots!” I said solemnly as I poked the carrot I was peeling in his direction. “Ha. Ha. You’re joking. That’s not true!”“Oh, but it is!” I counter dramatically. “The crust of the pie will be beets and c
“Come, let me see the dress on you,” Agatha coaxes. I had finished my needlecraft submission, traditional harvest dress. The Harvest Fair was a tradition older than the realm. It was a festival thanking the moon goddess for the harvest that sustains us. It was tradition to make offerings to the goddess, wear bright embroidered dresses, dance, play games, and feast. “I think I need help getting into this.” I grumbled. “Yes, the festival dresses are very form fitting.” Agatha sympathized. I had spent the last year embroidering the birds and wildflowers on the estate to appliqué them to my festival dress. I was saving what they looked like in my muscle memory, so even if I was far away after my moon ceremony I would still remember what they looked like. Agatha got me buttoned in. I stood looking in the mirror, not recognizing myself. “Ah!” Agatha gasped. “You’re so grown! If only your father were here to see the young lady you have blossomed into.” I smiled to stop the tears
“May the Goddess anoint you with her love and bless you with your dreams.” “We give our devotion to the Goddess!” My mate and I reply. The priestesses are all around us. Their voices echoing off the walls of the cave, it’s impossible to tell how many are speaking as the voices echo around us. Our naked bodies only inches away from one another as we stand in the pool, his intoxicating scent masked by the abundance of minerals in the spring. “We ask our Goddess to cleanse you of all your impurities. Remove any malice from your hearts.” The priestesses chant around us. My body feels drawn to him. The urge I have to touch him is overwhelming, to just feel his skin pressed against mine. Any doubts I have floating away the second I am near him. I look ahead to the priestesses. I do not dare look at him in all his glory. One glance at him may be what breaks the dam holding back my urges, my last vestige of control. “Tonight, you are to shift into your true nature. The greatest trea
“The Mountain stands, unmoving— never wavering, rooted deeply into the soil.” The Queen begins, seated behind me on a small chair, her gown spilling out of the narrow seat displaying the sheer volume of fabric she seems to carry so effortlessly. Monica is plaiting my hair for the first ceremony. An intricate pattern of different braids joined together and fastened with a plain rag tie matching my temple dress. “The Wind with her sons raging across the lands, charge right at the Great Mountain, but it still stands. The nymphs of the waters try to claw through it, but still it stands. Rigid. Strong. Proud.” Her hands move with the story, in a way it was more akin to a fireside chat rather than dressing room gossip. It reminds me of my father’s stories around the fire. I listen to her tale, knowing little of her people, attentively watching her through the mirrors reflection. “The Goddess herself blessed the Great Mountain, and appointed the Shadow Mountain pack to be the Guardians
“Waltz of the Mountains.” The King sneers. “Let’s see how well you keep up.” He casts a glare at Edward. “You know how your Grandmother adores the dance of her homeland, grandson. Do not disappoint her for the sake of your mate.” The warning is clear. “Yes, my King. I would not dream of disappointing.” He bows deeply, his hand on his heart pledging his allegiance. I remember our first meeting. “You play a dangerous game, girl.” He said with his hand around my throat. I suppose I am still that dangerous silly girl, too headstrong to fully submit. Incapable of bending to a tyrant. Incapable of silence. I am who I create. I feel Theia and Asteria in the front of my mind. Any overt display of power would be disastrous, so they lurk, careful not to allow their presence shimmer in my eyes. I deeply curtsy holding my hand to my heart as well, averting my eyes to the floor, not uttering a word. Silence and obedience. That is what the King demands. My stubbornness to blame for not b
Silence. I dare not speak or move. “I have heard you can dance.” The King says in my direction. A small smile creeped on his lips. A sneer. “Yes, your majesty.” I say meekly. “You shall dance for us.” Edward looks at me with sadness in his eyes. A shimmer of anger rippling in his fields of green, at my faux pas. The weight of the King’s displeasure not only hitting me, but crushing him as well. Collateral damage. “I would love to see the waltz.” The Queen hums. “Edward can lead her if she does not know it. Besides, she will be expected to dance at their wedding celebrations.” I hope he indulges his wife. It is a far better option than being forced to gyrate in front of the King. His expression leads me to believe he wishes to not only remind me of my place but humiliate me in the process. The Queen’s suggestion is only her tossing a rope to her grandson to save him from the front row seat to my humiliation. The King looks to his Queen. “Very well.” He replies. “L
Fairytales have a modicum of truth to them. Just enough truth that the reader can absorb the message, learn whatever moral imperative is being taught. The tricky part is discerning what little bit is rooted in truth, and what is an outright lie, a fantasy embellishment to keep you reading. I prefer the stories with happy endings, lessons are still learned, but the main character in the end is well and fine. Perhaps that’s my first mistake, assuming my placement in the tale is the main character, rather than the abused maid or gullible villager, or otherwise nameless background character. A person in the crowd as the King strolls down the street naked. A lady’s maid to the wicked queen or damsel in distress. A nameless cousin to the main character, who tried on the shoe but it did not fit. Perhaps I am the main character, in one of those tales where she tragically dies. Her choices and bad decisions leading her to death, rather than the happiness she was seeking. The Queen seem
“Beauty is pain.” Monica consoles. “You cannot achieve divinity without sacrifice. We want ethereal. We want glamor.” “We want to be able to have dinner.” I squeak, the corset of the gown so tight I can barely breathe. “Or maybe just be able to breathe.” I have been trying on gowns for hours. I tire of looking at my reflection. “Long deep breaths from the lungs, not the belly.” She demonstrates, her body rod straight, long measured breaths expanding her ribcage. My wedding gown, gowns for tea and dinner, dresses for travel and leisure, for breakfast or prayer— the stacks of fabric seem endless. I was nothing more than a doll. Monica has the same persistence as Agatha. I remember her wrapping me in endless fabrics for my Moon Ceremony gown. “You will be elegant! Ravishing! Demure!” She shouted as she wrapped me in satins and tulle. “Posture is key. Beyond that, relax. High anxiety breathing isn’t very effective or attractive.” Monica concludes. I smile, my mind wander
Something in my soul longs for the sunshine. The rays on my skin make me come alive. My internal battery dependent upon feeling the sun against my skin. I do not recall the last time I was outside in the sun. It seems a lifetime ago that I was able to truly enjoy it. My gown manifesting what I need the most, time to bask in the sun. I can feel the whispers of winter on the autumn wind. A small chill dancing in the breeze, winter days soon to come. I stare upwards to the sky. The sun’s rays like golden spires piercing through the clouds, a magnificent sight. The sun coyly peeks from behind the clouds to bathe me in its rays. Today, I am the sun, and I will absorb the warmth and joy it brings me. Monica stops in front of a small gate created between two apple trees. The trees already bare from harvest, the priestesses and acolytes have started the pruning process, preparing the orchard for winter. The branches and stems are neatly stacked in piles along the treeline. My ow
The material is a diaphanous gauzy gold, a Grecian peplos, the fabric expertly draped on the body. A hint of silhouette peeking through the multiple layers and folds of fabric, my feminine form exposed through gauzy golden haze. I am the sun incarnate. Even my tiny golden bracelet glints in the light, highlighted by the gown's golden glow. My ring proudly displayed on my finger. Monica has dusted my eyelids with a golden shimmer and painted my lips a soft pink. I look upon myself in the mirror. The long elegant gown perfectly compliments my shape. Long gone is the young girl dreaming of her escape, replaced in the mirror with an elegant woman, soon to be a married woman. A princess. A future Queen. The gown strikes me as familiar but I am unable to place it. I feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. “You look divine!” Monica squeals. “You are the artist, I’m just the canvas.” I respond softly. I stare into the mirror in awe of her art. I don’t even recognize myself in the reflectio
“Rhea. Rhea!” My father says with urgency. His fingers firmly grasping my mothers shoulders, her swollen belly the only thing keeping them apart. Her gown is a gauzy minty green. The skirt endlessly flowing around her. The bodice made of a darker velvet. He never calls her by her name. “You must prepare yourself to run. I might not come back. You know the position we are in.”“You don't have to go!” My mother whispers. Her face is covered in red splotches. She nibbles on her lips, a habit she only surrenders to in her most vulnerable moments. The ghosts of tears painted down her face. Her hands are shaking rather than embracing my father. Her eyes close to stop the tears from welling in her eyes. I shouldn’t be here. My small body tucked into a built-in shelf along the hallway. The safety of my bed is just out of reach, a thief in the night with blackberry muffins tucked into my pajama pockets, if I make a run for it I will surely be caught. “What choice do we have? Wait for them