“What. Are. You. Doing?!” I whisper yell from behind the partition. “Are you trying to get me killed?!” My body shivers and I am unsure if it is from cold or rage. Potentially both. “Come on now, kitten. Don’t come at me with your claws.” Kai drawls. “I only want to play nice.” I peer around the partition, aware of my nakedness. “This isn’t a joke, Kai. I’m to be sealed in the temple to the Prince. If they scent you,” I pause, unwilling to finish the thought. “I will be lucky to be a nun.”“Tell me, do nuns pray on their knees?” He asks coyly. He laughs at his own entendre. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” He retorts. “I know how to mask my scent.”“When exactly were you born, gramps?” I tease. I inhale deeply. It isn’t so clearly detectable. I smell Monica’s scent lingering. Cleaning chemicals. Fabric. Dust. Wood. Peppercorns. The smallest hint of peppercorns. “Your mask isn’t impenetrable.” I say flatly. “Werewolves have superior senses.”“Superior?” He huffs out a laugh in disbelief. “
Only the wealthy have space for massive libraries. The books themselves are all independently expensive of course, but the real luxury is space. Space to devote solely to storing paper. Building furniture specially and specifically designed to hold books with no other utilitarian purpose. Temples never seem to have a limitation on space. The rooms used to house the priestesses are all modest and small. All other areas are massive. Massive hallways, cavernous sanctuary, and this impressive library. A system of ladders and walkways, quiet reading nooks, study tables with lamps, and where the queen takes her tea. My gown hugs my body perfectly. The dress a simple A line with three quarter length sleeves. The soft fabric is a rich berry purple with blue undertones. Small blackberries, gooseberries, and boysenberries are embroidered along the bottom hem of the dress. Small heels are on my feet. They feel alien to me, I am used to walking on flat feet and prefer to do so. My natural gait,
“You must sit still as a great tree, rooted and observing all around you.” My father whispers as we sit perched in a blind. “Even trees bend to the will of the wind.” I whisper, smiling at my profound thought. He chuckles softly at my bold retort. “You must listen first, my child. Learn the world before you begin to be a critical observer.” “Shouldn’t you also be silent?” I ask with wicked innocence, my youthful smirk revealing the jab. My father grumbles in agreement. In the early morning just as the sun begins to rise, I see only glimpses of his face cloaked in shadows. The glint of his eyes. The whites of his teeth when he flashes a smile. I spot the herd. I pull out my bow and get into position, ready myself to spot my mark. A large doe makes her way into the meadow first. Her timid stare searching for possible danger. “Never take the lead doe. She is the matriarch. The one that keeps this group tethered to one another.” My father murmurs. His voice so low even I strained to
“First, you need to bathe!” Monica scolds. “Where is your lady’s maid?” “I have no maid.” I say plainly. “The baths are down the corridor and I cannot move about freely. If I may go there I am happy to bathe.” I say with a shimmer of shame. Like a caged bird longing for freedom, but always reminded that her beautiful wings have been clipped. “I— I just want you to be perfect for dinner.” She stammers. Embarrassment blooming on her cheeks. “I did not realize you could not leave.” She says barely above a whisper. I look into her eyes. I see the empathy of understanding within them. I offer a small smile. “It’s okay.” I push my smile wider on my face, a small signal of reassurance. “Tell me what you have in mind for dinner this evening on the way?” I ask after a moment of silence. “Of course.” She graciously smiles. We step into the hallway. For a moment I consider running. Just to see how far I can get. I know I cannot escape my destiny. I want to run to feel my mate chase me. To g
Royal meals have a cadence to them. The rhythm and tempo set by the most senior member among them. Filled with tradition and ceremony, some so old the meaning has been lost and only the choreography remains. The King has the feeling of a steady bass drum. The type of rhythm that pushes you forward, unforgiving in its pace and dutiful to its mission. The Queen is his only diversion from keeping the pace of a steady beat. Her attention is never too far removed from her mate, her devotion on display. Her gown the exact same shade of blue as the flourishes stitched into the King’s jacket. If dressing is an art form, the Queen is a master. Her gown and accessories perfectly complement the King. More than a beautiful decoration, she is a perfect match. Her tiara,the same shape as his crown, only smaller. Each element communicates the strength of their bond. My mate is curiously obedient. Sitting tall and stiff. A toy soldier looking to the general for directives. His attention, too, is
I stare at the bauble on my finger. The stone looks like a sapphire with a golden crest on top of it. Small diamond stars sparkle in the golden crest. A wolf calling to the moon. It is easily the most beautiful thing I have ever owned, even if it is just a marker to convey ownership of me. “We will never be property.” Asteria whispers into the corners of my mind. “Not again. Not in this life.”“It doesn’t have to be the same as it was with Prince Aares.” I say softly. My body is relaxed in the tub as I stare at the ring and the way the candlelight reflects in the facets. “Princes are all the same I fear.” She says softly. “He is our mate. He would never harm us.” Theia counters. “I hope you are right.” Asteria sighs. I let myself slide into the tub, allowing my head to slip under into the warm water. I embrace the silence that the bottom of the tub brings. The soothing embrace of the water on my body. I feel a sudden chill. I emerge, seeking to add some hot water. “We always se
“It’s hard to believe you are not the Goddess of the Sunrise, your beauty is something to behold!” Kai’s breathy whisper tickles my ear. His tongue runs along the planes of my neck, his teeth grazing my neck where my mark will be. “No mere mortal could be so blindingly beautiful.” I feel a shiver race along my skin. My naked body pressed against his. His thumb grazing my shoulder as his hands begin to roam my body. He firmly grasps my breast, the soft pad of his thumb gently tracing the stiff peak of my breast. He looks into my eyes. My body quivers with anticipation. “May I kneel at your feet, my Queen?” He purrs as he lowers himself onto one knee before me. I gasp as he grasps my hips with his hands. “May I kiss your sweet lips?” He asks with a mischievous smile. His gray eyes look up to me, pleading for permission. “You may.” I say as a regal queen, naked before him. He leans close and places a soft kiss upon my hip. Another at the top of my thigh. My legs are shaking sl
An untethered witch is a waste of a bloodline. The line forever marred by embracing the wilds. Broken bonds, separated from the Force. A grain of sand forever lost to the winds, a home never to be found. The Covenant of the Coven“Your duty is always first to the King.” Phoebe announces after breakfast. “Your mating and marriage do not change that obligation. The Goddess herself has made it so.”I sit at the small table where the Immaculate Mother had once shared a meal with me. It is now a small classroom to teach me to act with a greater pedigree. “We praise the Goddess for all the Gifts that She bestows upon us!” Phoebe calls.“We give our devotion to the Goddess!” I echo in refrain. Several days of morning prayers have taught me the cadence and script. “After your sealing you will be a Princess. Princess of Fives. You will never outrank a Royal of the bloodline. Your children will even be superior to you.” She says matter of factly. I never much cared for the concept of rank.
I hear a soft rapping at my door. I tear myself from the sheets like a petulant child, stomping towards the doorway. The warmth of my bed calling to me. I don’t think I’m ready to be shoved into a bath and corseted into a gown. I feel as if I have not even shut my eyes, let alone gotten any rest. “I’m coming.” I say, in a decidedly grumpy voice. I put the most sincerest grumpy tired face expression that I can muster, and open the door. “What?” The hallway is empty. I cannot even hear distant footsteps of maids and servants performing their daily task list. A list that starts the moment their eyes open and does not end again until they close. The realization washes over me with shame. I think back to the endless hours, scrubbing dishes, scrubbing floors, standing over hot stoves. I looked to my arms to see all the faint scars I have accumulated over my years. Each one with their own story. The time I sliced my hand open or when I burnt myself on the edge of a pot because I wasn’t t
Your highness. I suppose it is better than being a slave, though your name is surrendered just the same. Instead of no one caring to know your name they are forbidden to speak it, it’s traded in for formal titles. This elevation does not bring freedom, rather luxurious chains, forced to follow antiquated traditions. It is not the same as being an actual slave though. To compare it as such is a denigration. A lie. One cannot be both slave and master, though it seems even masters have masters to bow to. The breakfast I consumed without having to perform any labor only underscores my place in the pecking order, now far above the one I used to enjoy. I struggle to enjoy my new position when Dmitry has been left behind. I should rest though. I am to be a bride today. The wedding is less about me and more about the future of the monarchy. The continuation of Malakai’s line through history. I am only the womb used to usher in this future greatness. The wedding itself is largely performat
“Breakfast is already in your chambers.” Phoebe reassures, her delicate hand still clasping mine. “Thank you, Priestess Phoebe. I appreciate your consideration.” We fall into a comfortable silence. The floors of the temple are cold on my naked feet, my soles made soft and delicate by the last month of wearing shoes. I am only steps away from being a Princess, living a fairytale and touring the Kingdom. I cannot help but feel tragedy lurking in the shadows. A beast so insidious, patiently waiting to strike at your most triumphant moment. The climb up the social ladder feels like a climb that ends with me jumping to my death. I breathe deeply and allow the sound of our swishing robes lull me into calmness. I am greeted by the smell of breakfast when the door to my room is opened. “Such a feast!” I squeal like an excited child. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Phoebe scolds. “Then join me, priestess. There is more than enough for us both.”“Thank you, m’lady.”The formalit
Ceres“Papa! Papa! I think I have something!” I squeak. My little body wiggling, unable to control the overwhelming excitement that has washed over me. My tiny childish hands reach for my father, precariously balancing in the small rowboat. “Shhh! Hush. You will scare away all the fish.” He says gently. His heavy hands lovingly placed on my shoulders, calming me instantly. “You have plenty of time to make waves in your life, you need not do it when we are trying to fish.” He gently scolds. “Yes, papa.”“Now, let’s check that line. Reel it in gently but steady, then flick to set the hook.” He demonstrates the process on his own rod. I begin to reel it in, quietly squealing with glee, pulling it in as my father had shown me many times before. Springtime on the lake, learning to live off the land. “You must be able to provide for yourself.” That is what my father would say when I would complain about waking before the sun. Early morning on the lake is what heaven must be like. The w
Theia The air is crisp, the dew covers the ground and little droplets stick to my fur like tiny little pearls. Running in this form is so freeing. I wish it could always be just like this. “Catch me if you can!” I call as I weave through the branches and mossy stones. I do not even see his form, a shadow in the darkness, when he pounces on me and we roll down a small embankment. “Gotcha!” He gleefully remarks. The heat from his body presses against mine and I do not struggle or squirm under him. I am content to be here in his snare. “I didn’t even see you!” “Did you say that you owe me a wish? Do I now have two?” “No! I made no promise of another wish granted. I do owe you one though, so choose wisely.” He looks deeply into my eyes. “Yes. I will have to be thoughtful in what I choose.” I could get lost in his golden orbs. The fire in his stare. His darkness to my light. “We should go. The sun is already threatening to break the horizon. Dawn is here, it is o
Theia “The sun will rise soon.” I murmur. I stretch my legs out lazily. “We can speak of magic some other time.”“Some other time.” Erebus parrots back. His voice slow and lazy, as if considering the next possible occasion. “You are not lying if we agree to keep what has happened between us.” I say, breaking the silence between us. “That is quite literally called lying by omission.” “No, it’s keeping something sacred between us.”“You can dress a sow in silk gown, but that will not make her a Queen. Just because you call it something else doesn’t make it something else.”“Two things can be true.” “Yes, I suppose. That doesn’t mean it sits right with me.”“Oracles are not the Goddess. There is no guarantee that my mark will even look as the book tells it.”“Your optimism knows no bounds.” He quips sarcastically. “We pledged ourselves to one another. This bond is above all others. Period.” I growl, his insistence on calling me out is getting under my skin. No one wants an honest a
CeresDarkness can swallow you whole. The void of nothingness. I cannot even see Theia or Asteria anymore. Their thoughts are shielded from me, yet I can feel the veil thinning. I can feel my resurgence, my resurrection into my physical form. It is coming, I can feel the electricity in the air. “Ceres!”A voice calls to me from the abyss of nothingness surrounding me. I do not recognize the call. It is not Asteria or Theia’s voice calling. No one else should be here. “Come my child, come to my voice.”I have read enough fairytales to be suspicious of mystery voices calling from the dark. Their honeyed calls disguise their horrific intentions. Harpies calling from the cliffs, lulling you to your death. Do such creatures lurk in this place, this in between space, where I have no control? I am just a battered ship being tossed around the sea, only to steer myself into a rocky grave, calling to me so sweetly from beyond my vision. I will not blindly go towards the faceless voice in the
Theia“There is no affection in power. Power consumes all and no price is too high to pay to keep it. Edward may believe that his Grandfather’s love for him is unconditional, but I am not so naive.” Erebus growls. “Any threat to the King’s power will be eliminated. Period.”The truth weighs heavy. Silence settles within the cave. “Will the Immaculate Mother reveal the truth to the King?” I ask after a long bout of silence. “You said it yourself. Information you do not know, but want; is valuable.”“I have not read the myths of this prophecy. The Oracle Chronicle of the First King. I believe that is what the Immaculate Mother called it. Have you or Edward studied this?” “Edward is aware of all the sacred texts of the Kingdom. He has spent his entire life preparing to be King.”“What will he do when he discovers that I am the defender of the faith? Destined to fight in a battle and be the savior of the Kingdom? Will he see that as treason and address accordingly?”“I would like to sa
Asteria “Your majesty, I beg your forgiveness and show of mercy!” The man splayed on the marble floor before us is dressed in tattered rags. His pants are cinched tightly with a belt made of woven fibers tattered with filth and age. His shirt is worn thin where the fabric rests upon his jagged bones, patches along the sleeves and shoulders create a haphazard mishmash of colors and textures with no discernible pattern. I stand a few steps above him, Prince Aares on a throne at the top of the stairs of the pedestal behind me. He must always be above, both figuratively and literally. I am simply a silent statuette, an observer of the tragic comedy before me, an ornament placed before the Prince, his child bride blooming in front of the court in realtime. My unflinching gaze witnessing the violence and cruelty. There was never any mercy to be found here. “Is it true that you hunted a stag in the woods?” Prince Aares questions. I already know the outcome of this. There is nothing sp