It’s hard to remember a time without hunger and hardship. Working my fingers to the bone and eating scraps.
“Ceres!” My mother bellowed. “Ceres, come here this instant!” My body ached as I rose from the floor. It was Tuesday, which meant scrubbing the kitchen floors. My life was a series of chores, an endless routine both mundane and exhausting. Repetitive. I dried my hands on my apron and ran towards my mother’s impatient calls. “Yes, ma’am?” I quietly said with my eyes averted. I didn’t dare look her in the eyes. “We will have guests tonight. Keep Dmitry out of sight.” She says his name like she is spitting a curse. “Dinner is to be ready promptly at 7, service for 7.” It’s almost as if saying his name causes her physical discomfort. “Dinner must follow the menu I left in the dining room. I also left a menu for the next morning’s breakfast. Maristela is in charge of the table settings and will aid you in service this evening. All the footman will be prepared to serve. All the maids will be busy readying the rooms for this evening. The Crown Prince and his family are dining tonight.” My mother never even looked in my direction as she delivered her orders. “Yes, ma’am.” I quickly retreated. If I’m to make dinner, I need to finish those floors. Dmitry is my brother and the light of my world. I have raised him since the night our father died when he was an infant. I scrape together change from groceries and selling cakes and pies to other noble houses in order to send him to school. I haven’t been to school in years. There are far too many things to do at the estate. Mother broke the night my father died. It was like the light inside her was extinguished. It died with him. Her grief swallowed her whole and there was no room for us. It was like she was drowning and lost the will to gasp for air. I was only 11. She was just a beautiful porcelain figurine. Hollow. Devoid of any emotion. No love or grief. No joy or pain. Genteel and perfect. Expression forever frozen. Not a single crack showing. So delicate and breakable, something to display on the mantle. Something to be possessed and coveted. A beautiful piece of art to admire. On my best days, when the rays of sun filter through the windows and reflect off her golden hair, I like to believe that everything she has done has been to save us. That she’s a dutiful martyr, sacrificing herself so that I can remain alive. Loving her husband only an elaborate ruse to give me the chance to realize my destiny and find my path. My father worshipped her. He was devoted to loving her and loving us in equal measure. I loved my father and if he loved her she must be good. On my worst days, when I see her as the shell of her former self, I wonder how my father ever found anything worthy of loving.Five years ago, mother married Osiris. He took my father’s title as Alpha of the Harvest Moon Pack. Tradition dictates that any children of a deceased alpha are to be exiled upon the eldest child's 18th birthday moon ceremony. The eldest child may challenge the current alpha for the title instead of accepting exile. To challenge an alpha is to fight to the death. So tradition says I choose exile for myself and Dmitry, or I probably die fighting Osiris. I never imagined that this would be my life. I have accepted that in two months my moon ceremony will happen. The moon ceremony is the first full moon after your 18th birthday. This is when your mate is most visible to your wolf. A kingdom wide ball is held and each person who recently turned 18 is introduced to the entire kingdom of wolves that are of age and without mates. This is really the only time you are able to see all the packs of the realm. Many find their mates at the ball. If I find my mate I can take my place in society.
I scanned the menu. Most of the items were already in the pantry, but a few would require a trip to town. I had developed my skills as a cook over these last six years. It was part of my earning my keep. It was something I actually enjoyed. Taking the foods harvested from the garden and from the farm and turning them into delicious meals brought me so much joy. I reveled in creating new delights. These items must be the favorite of the crown prince and his family. Royal tastes are so pretentious. I much prefer a simple meal of bread and stew. These menus do allow me to practice my cooking skills so I appreciate them for that. “How late do you think we will be working tonight?” Groaned Maristela. Maristela was my best and only friend. She was an omega by birth and worked the kitchens along side me all these years. “Does work ever end?” I ask. “I heard the the Crown Prince was coming tonight. Alpha is hoping to pair Horus with his daughter. They are barely 6. It’s ridiculous.”
“These linens must be pressed! Everything must be perfectly crisp and clean!” The Luna was storming around the dining room. Her hair was in curlers and she was dressed in a dressing robe. “Y-yes ma’am!” Maristela stammered. Mari quickly pulled the linens from the table to steam and press them in the laundry. The Luna began to sort through the various flowers. Dahlias, hellebores, hydrangeas, snapdragons, foxgloves, English roses, peonies. Greenery like different varieties of eucalyptus and belles of Ireland. As a young girl I used to run through the gardens on the estate finding the most beautiful blooms for my mother. My father and I would take long walks around the vast estate feeding the chickens, fishing the ponds, and picking bouquets of flowers for my mother. “Not a single bloom is as beautiful as you, my love,” he would croon. My mothers face would light up like the sun was shining from within her. She gazed at my father like he hung the moon. She was so beautiful then.
Everything was prepared for the arrival of the Crown Prince and his family. Mother insisted that Mari and I wear formal clothing for service. I hated the crisp button up white shirt and bow tie. The patent leather shoes squeaked as I walked. Mari and I were like two formal penguins suited for service. Formal enough to blend into the background and not cause any unwanted attention. My mother looked ravishing. She wore a formal gown the color of newly sprouted wheat. The green shimmered as she moved. The fabric was like liquid silk flowing over her body as if the dress could only ever be worn by her. It was simple in design. It was a cowl neck sheath dress with a slight cinch at her tiny waist. Her slender arms were on display. Despite being from a pack that harvested the fields, her skin was untouched by the sun. It was milky and smooth. There was deep scoop in the back of the gown showing her perfectly slender back. A delicate gold chain hung at her back and a large emerald hung bet
The bell rang in the kitchen signifying course one was to be served. Consommé. It was a simple dish if you only judged by ingredients. Meat. Bones. Mirepoix. Herbs from the garden. Peppercorns. Stock. Egg Whites. It was extravagant in its proportions and wastefulness. Numerous egg whites, pounds of meat and bones, plus all the bones and meat used to make the original stock, vegetables and herbs; all to end up with a perfectly crystal clear broth. After adding all these things you then meticulously strain the broth. Discarding all the meat, vegetables, eggs, and herbs. This discard will make a mighty meal for Dmitry and I tonight. We are lucky. Not many slaves or omegas from the pack get to eat such fresh meat. There is a definite divide between the nobles and omegas. Omegas would never dream of making consommé. It’s so time consuming and wasteful, which is what makes it a food emblematic of wealth and privilege. I push these thoughts from my mind. Instead, I take my tasting sp
Salmon didn’t swim this far south. The fish had to be sourced from the cold rivers in the Cresent Moon Pack territory. The fish come in from the sea to lay their eggs each year. This of course makes them an expensive luxury. That makes it an excellent choice for a royal dinner. Each pack sourced and produced goods. A large percentage are paid to the crown as tax. It is by the grace of his majesty that we occupy our pack lands. Somehow, even though our ancestors have worked this land for centuries, the Crown owns all the land and minerals of the realm. We should feel lucky that the crown shares our harvest with us— even though it is our labor that creates the food. What we have remaining we can trade and barter with other packs in the realm. I wonder how many bushels of grain this meal cost. How many families of this realm have less so that the royal family can eat fish in a territory that does not naturally have it?The crown was currently worn by King Amon. Prince Joaquim has been n
*ding* Roasted artichoke.*ding* Venison with roasted root vegetables. *ding* Wild mushrooms with herbs. *ding* Champagne sorbet. *ding* Bacon wrapped quail. *ding* Cheese course. *ding* Chocolate mousse with seasonal berries. I tried to stay focused on dinner service. The scene at dinner earlier kept replaying in my mind. “You’re too kind, your highness. It must be the glow of an expectant mother that you are detecting. Osiris has blessed me with another pup.”Pregnant. Again. She always wanted a daughter? It killed me to watch her dote on Horus. Her golden child. He was only a year younger than Dmitry. Yet, Dmitry had never experienced any love from our mother. Perhaps those first few weeks after his birth she doted on him. If Osiris were to die too would she be able to abandon Horus as abruptly? Would Horus carry on raising his sibling while mother sought out a new alpha? Would she be too old by then to even lure one in? This was just a useless spiral. There was no reason t
It was late. I finished getting my breads together for the morning and my working day was finally done. I stepped outside into the crisp night air. A small breeze caressing my skin cooling me off from working in the kitchen. I had already changed to my kitchen dress. Simple and lightweight. Big pockets. A muddy brown color that never shows the splatters and spills from the kitchen. When I had moments like this alone, I found myself drifting towards my garden. I didn’t get to keep much after my father died. I had to move out of my rooms. I lost my freedom. My mother. I got to keep my garden though. It was small and tucked out of the way, bordered by the tree line and the fence line. It was my quiet place. The stars shone brightly as I walked towards my garden. There was a small bench under a weeping willow tucked away in there. It was where I would often sit and talk to my father. I felt the closest to him inside that garden. I slowly walked along the pathway. Brushing my fingerti
“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 F
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
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