“Congratulations.” Phoebe said, as we quietly walk back to my room. “The Goddess truly does favor you.”I never considered myself favored. In many ways I’m lucky beyond measure. At least when I think of Dmitry and the life we have built. How I love him and he loves me. The distance between us is a constant ache, a deep loneliness. I hope to return to him soon. I know he must miss me. The feast carries on with my mate and the King. I was purely decoration. A pretty trinket displayed and then put away. I have a busy few days to prepare for my sealing. “Hm.” I manage to respond. “I give my devotion to the Goddess.” I say more out of religious habit than actual genuine conversation. “My mate did not find my low birth possible to overcome.” Phoebe says quietly. “I was such a small girl. Easily blown over in the desert winds. My parents were born to a rogue caravan in the far reaches of the Western desert.”“Lunar Storm territory?” I ask. “Far beyond the comfort of the pack’s lands.” Ph
Twigs snap under my bare feet. I smell the damp soil and pine of the forest. “This way!” I hear a man shout in the distance. I hear the crunch of the forest floor giving way to heavy hooves. Dead leaves and twigs snapping in succession with each beat of the hooves against it. The pounding rhythm rolling towards me. “Asteria! Show yourself! Your Prince demands it!” I hear a man snarling in the distance. His words make it clear that I have not yet been discovered. I feel so cold.I begin to run. I make my way as quietly as I can although I doubt whoever is out there can hear my steps over the furious pounding of galloping horses. Keep moving. Keep running. The coldness slowly creeps up my spine and then suddenly becomes unbearable. I bite back a scream of agony. It’s as if I am freezing from within. My skin has a purple cast to it. I fear I may freeze before I escape. I can longer run. If I cannot run, I must hide. I see him before I even realize he has closed in. His whip han
It’s a strange sight to see dozens of cloaked figures surrounding a massive bonfire. Their shadows stretch across the clearing like shadowy veins. I see the Great Mother. Even in this sea of fire and red robes, her presence cannot be hidden. I find myself stalking along the edge of the clearing, like a predator watching its prey. “This is our coven. Our sisterhood.” Asteria reminds me. “Forgive me if I feel removed from them. I am still unsure of my place here.” I say quietly. “We will find our place within the coven.” She assures. “Like anything, it takes time and trust.”“Trust.” I say slowly. “That’s the hardest part.”I scan the crowd for faces I recognize. It is then I feel his presence.“Samhain blessings to you, dear sister.” The baritone of his voice sends a shiver up my spine. “Also to you.” I stutter, unsure of how to greet or even celebrate this holiday. “Your first Samhain I presume?” Kai’s lips curl upward into a mischievous smile. “Is it that obvious?” I ask, allo
“Come, my primrose. I want to hear of your adventures since our last meeting.” The Great Mother says, turning towards me. If I didn't know better, I would think it was simply a grandmother’s genuine interest in my life. I know it is a command disguised as a request. A pretty face on a power move. I dutifully follow her. Until I have control, I must be obedient. My brother is still in the pack house. He is there without me to shield him. We walk towards the edge of the crowd. Red-robed figures are scattered around the bonfire, some close to the fire bathed in light and then others right along the edge of the bonfire’s reach. Their faces cloaked in shadow, keenly observing and murmuring within their small groups. Politics. Something Kai seems to abhor but I find entirely necessary. In order to survive within a system you must understand how the system operates. No one knows this better than my mother, who has willfully hidden and taken so much from me. She follows behind me, somehow e
“Who would have thought a little half breed would be able to achieve in so little time what we have been working toward for centuries?” The Great Mother laments as she stares into the dancing fire. The fire dances in her eyes as she speaks. “I feel my line’s power within you, tainted by the stench of wolf.” I feel Theia’s anger building in the pit of my stomach. I work to suppress my anger rising up my throat like bile. “Such stupid creatures. Ruled entirely by emotion and brute strength.” The Great Mother continues. “Hopefully your witch half is enough to give you some sense, although Rhea is your mother.” I shift uncomfortably in my chair. My fingers curl into the smooth leather, well worn and discolored from the centuries of use. I school a cool and detached mask on my face. I have my own list of complaints about my mother, I have no space in my heart to be bothered with hers. “Wolves are fickle creatures. So easily swayed by lust, rage, and jealousy. Perhaps it is their short
“We learned about fables today.” Dmitry squeaks perched on a stool by the cutting block. I sweat profusely stirring sauces and soups on the stove. The mad dash towards dinner. “What is a fable?” I ask. “A story that teaches you something.” He ponders for a moment his answer. A little cherub face deep in thought. “A truth. A lesson for life.” He smiles in satisfaction. “What did the fable you read today teach?” I ask as I pour the soup into the tureen for service. “The first was a story about a fox and a crow.” He begins. “The fox eats the crow and it teaches you to not trust foxes.” I blurt out in response. “No.” He answers flatly. “The—““Crow plucks the fox’s eyes out and you learn that crow’s are a bad omen.” I interrupt. “No. You might be a good cook, but you are a terrible guesser.” He laughs. “Might?” I ask. “How will my ego survive such a blow?” I mockingly ask. “Ok. The fox and crow have a tea party and it teaches you to be friends with everybody.” I say confidently.
“You should thank the Goddess for my preparedness!” The Queen’s seamstress says as she measures me and scribbles in her notebook. “Making a wedding gown in three days time is insane enough, but to add so many additional pieces? Unthinkable!” I stand on a pedestal in front of several mirrors. The seamstress has a mess of curls pinned on top of her head. Pencils are skewered through, both functional and practical. Straight pins line the edge of her collar, ready to be plucked and used as needed. The measuring tapes are draped around her neck like loose scarves. I am to have tea with the Queen. From her energy I suspect the Queen will not care how unreasonable the request is, I am to be dressed appropriately no matter what. “I can sew.” I offer. “If you need assistance I can be an extra pair of hands.” The seamstress stops and stares at me in the mirror. “You are to marry a Prince, m’lady. You can do no such thing.” She says kindly. “We have to make at least three gowns for meals plus
“You must always have a connection to the earth.” My mother declares. She holds a blackberry cane in her hand. “The bramble provides protection, the berry sustenance, and when you are older, wine.” She giggles. My mother is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The sunlight follows her, as if Helios himself uses the golden rays to highlight her beauty. Her golden hair, looking like a crown of gold, regal and elegant. Even now, on her knees in the garden, her face flecked with dirt and sweat, she is ethereal. A painting worthy of display. I hope to have even a drop of her beauty in me. “Planting is a sacred ceremony.” She says. “Yes, mama.” I squeak, my baby voice not yet gone. Before Dmitry was in my mother’s womb. Before my father was gone. Before. “Never take the creation of life for granted.” She says as she holds the crane in her hand. “We call to the Northern Spirit. To the Guardian of the soil and earth. Hear our call!”I giggle. Mama always has strange ways of sayin
“We hear your call, now hear our words.” A voice whispers from beyond the circle. I stand rigidly. The voice creeps up my spine, my hair standing on end. My eyes scan the circle’s edges, seeking the body associated with the voice. Their faces are all blurred, their features too hard to make out. Clearly different from one another but also oddly the same. I feel myself drawn, like a moth to the flame, closer to the edge thinking that I may see them more clearly. I edge closer to the boundary, hoping to steal a look. “Do not break this circle!” Asteria seems to scream, the words halting my body midstride, frozen in her warning. I look toward her over my shoulder, and see the panic in her eyes, her stoic expression a mask for my comfort. Theia sits stoically in the dead center of the circle, alert but still as a grotesque perched high on a stone building, a quiet observer. “Take my hand!” Asteria orders, her hand outstretched toward me. I look to my feet and gasp at their prox
I don’t think I will ever get over how magic works in this world. It’s a strange feeling to go most of your life believing that magic, real magic, was nothing more than a story to tell around the fire. That actual magic was found only in the first breaths of babies being born, not actual conjuring and manipulation of the universe. That walking through doorways into different dimensions were the fantasies of mad men and stories meant to scare children into minding their mothers. In these moments, when I witness the actual power of magic, I am both awestruck and terrified. How many moments of my life have been manipulated by magic? How do I know what is real and what is a magical mirage?“There are many things happening before you but hidden from view.” Asteria says quietly. “Magic is a blessing from our Goddess. It should be revered not feared.”“This is the biggest day of our lives. The day we seal our marriage to our mate. Let us rejoice. There are many other days ahead to worry.” T
This is the picturesque final scene of the fairytale. The beautiful maiden, who has managed to overcome hardship, is now a perfectly coiffed stylish bride. At least, that’s the image I am attempting to curate. I am who I create. I think back to all the elegant ladies I observed while serving in the Alpha house. Their rigid posture. Their chins perpendicular to the floor, elongating their necks, like delicate swans. Their meticulously styled appearance. Every decision carefully made. My style has more in common with a tornado than a curated art museum. Getting ready is a mad whirl around the room, every second spent is a robbery of my sleep, my appearance only needing to be neat and clean. Not anymore. Sleep is heaped in ample servings here. My only chore is getting ready. “I pray the Goddess guides me on my intended path.” I whisper quietly, my eyes shut tightly. I glance toward the clock. I am sure that someone will arrive to escort me to the temple in the next half hour. My wedd
I understand the appeal of a fairytale. The maiden in the story always has some terribly tragic circumstance befall her; but, when it is most important her stunning beauty allows her to rise the ranks to become a princess. Her face card is her entrance to the club most have to be born into. Her beauty is too great to be mired in obscurity. Her time in the bowels of the beast only add to her appeal; later, her “humble” beginnings are trotted out to prove she is one of the people, too beautiful not to be elevated to her supreme status, but also still ordinary and “just like us”. In truth, most of the women married within this world come from it. Those tales too predictable and bland to be worthy of a fairytale, or perhaps, the truth doesn’t hit the same for the masses. They must believe that if they are also beautiful enough, they too can escape. Those escapes are few and far between, but here I am, one of them. I suppose my beauty and power are enough to elevate me from my place in the
“This.” I say as my fingers trace along the filigree. “This is magnificent.” I am in awe of the beauty of it. Diamonds all perfectly matched set in gold. Small crescent moons hide in the filigree, only clear with the moonstones set inside them. The crests of each pack of the realm are hidden and set with diamonds. I would have missed the detail had I not immediately recognized the crest on my own homeland. Perhaps that is the test of the Queen. Do I pick one of the pieces that more heavily represent Harvest Moon? Or perhaps my statement is gaudy wealth, I am sure many will expect that. When you claw yourselves out of the bowels, you tend to display your material achievements like a soldier’s medals. This one though, it tastefully pays homage to each pack of the realm. I am to be Princess of Fives, it is only right to represent all of them. “Take off the gown so that I can attach the sleeve, m’lady.” Monica orders, her attention focused on the work. I dutifully comply, standing
I look at the sparkling treasure before me. The amount of wealth is astonishing. Just one emerald and some diamond pins cost my mother bushels of food. I trace my finger along the delicate chain at my wrist. This bracelet as well. These jewels laid out before me like a pirate’s treasure, they make my mother’s jewels seem modest and trivial. The weight of the gold and platinum alone is an astonishing show of wealth. The lands of the realm are rich in resources, all part of the royal horde. “We can get you a different bracelet.” Monica offers, noticing my finger running along the golden thread. “No.” I say instantly, refraining from blurting out any explanation. “Very well, m’lady. Are you drawn to anything in particular?” I look into the mirror at my reflection. I am not sure I recognize myself. A witch. A wolf. An Alpha’s daughter. The girl from the kitchens. The slave of Harvest Moon. A bride. This is my metamorphosis. I am being reborn into the Kingdom of the Moon. Princess of
The dress. “It is an homage to your homeland!” Monica says dramatically, her hands stretched outward to sell me on the gown. “Homage?” I say studying my reflection in the mirror. “Yes, it’s when you show honor or reverence—”“I’m aware of the definition.” I interrupt. We stand in silence. I stare at the reflection before me. I feel like a ball of silk and ribbon. My small frame is completely swallowed in expensive fabric. I’m not sure if I am wearing the gown or if it’s wearing me. “Are there any other options, perhaps something less…” I struggle to find a kind word. “Less?”“Of course.” She frowns at my rejection. “This is beautiful.” I say. “It is just too overwhelming for me.”Monica cracks a soft smile. “Of course. We have a whole tour to build your unique style. I will push, you will reign me in.”“Deal.”“I do have a lovely column gown.” She mutters as she shuffles through her rack of gowns, some finished, some still a work in progress. The silk looks as if it was poured
“I hope you are right, Theia. I can’t help but feel uneasy when the majority of dreams I have are directly related to the violence of the monarchy.” Asteria sighs softly. “Violence I endured. Even worse, the violence I witnessed.”“That does not have to be our life. Not every Prince is evil.” Theia offers. “He did not choose his birth.” I offer, considering myself as well. “Witch and werewolf, that match is not accepted. I didn’t choose my birth either, so I struggle to damn someone on that fact alone.”“Ceres, do not lie to yourself. Even you know that the very foundation of the monarchy is dependent upon the suffering of people. Slavery. War. Famine. All necessary for the monarchy to survive.” Asteria declares like a professor from the lectern. “And somehow I am the savior of the world? I’m going to eliminate slavery and suffering? Get a grip, Asteria!”“No, no I am not delusional.”“You sound a bit delusional.” Theia quips. “We will not lead the masses away from systematic abuse
Some oaths cannot be broken. The thought tumbles in my mind. “It is true. The consequences can be dire when breaking a promise. An oath is sworn with your life.” Theia warns. “A witch is nothing without her word. Our whole existence is built upon the truth that words are powerful and have meaning. A covenant is an agreement, but an oath is a solemn promise. Breaking an oath is not a simple undertaking. The consequences of such actions can be catastrophic and change who you are entirely. To break an oath is a choice of darkness. Embracing the worst that this world has to give.” Asteria chimes in. “Last night, for me, was filled with dreams and nightmares. They don’t even all make sense to me at this point. A mix of my memories, and what I assume the two of you were seeing.” I say. I made an oath to the King, but I would break it in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it and continue to keep my head. Are oaths really oaths if you are under duress? Or is that simply fealty, a forced