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.” “Even Osiris can’t dictate to the moon goddess who Horus’ mate will be. This dinner is important, it’s best if we give the best possible service tonight. Then we can push ourselves through breakfast service and then they will be off to their next social appointment.” I knew the consequences of disappointing the alpha. “I know, I know. It’s not long until you will have your moon ceremony and escape this nightmare. The Luna had very specific instructions on the tablescape so I have to go to the florist. Is there anything you need while I am in town?” She asks. “Yes, I’ve made a list. Please stay focused and get everything.” Mari had a tendency to daydream. She would forget her head if it wasn’t attached to her body. “Moth- er I mean the Luna was very specific about the menu too, and I cannot mess it up.” Only Horus was allowed to call the Luna mother. I was a slave now, I had only masters, no mother or father. “I always come through. Just because I forgot something last time doesn’t mean—“ “You forgot the wine when the menu was Coq au Vin! The wine is in the name of the dish!” I screech. “Whatever. Dinner got done and it was delicious. You got the wine eventually.” She challenged. She then began to cackle with amusement. It was hard to be mad at Mari for long. She meant well and she made my situation bearable. We all had our flaws. She took her cloak from the rack and bid me farewell. I set my mind on starting on this menu. Consommé. Poached salmon with hollandaise. Venison with roasted root vegetables. Wild mushrooms with herbs. Roasted artichoke. Bacon wrapped quail. Fresh bread and butter. Champagne sorbet. Chocolate mouse with seasonal berries. Cheese and wine. A meal fit for a future king and his heirs. I never liked the concept of the monarchy. Just by being born you have a right to rule over people? Just by being born you own all the lands and collect taxes and rent from the people? Paying taxes and rent so the King will never have to sweep a floor, cook a meal, work a job, or even get dressed by himself. Hundreds of people some slaves some paid to wait around to service the monarch’s every need and whim all which they are entitled to by birth. The goddess destined it to be so. Sycophantic nobles and aristocrats falling all over themselves to praise the monarch’s mediocrity. The King rode a horse. *Claps* The Queen wore a dress. *Claps* The idea that we all have to pretend that cutting a ribbon or reading a speech is the most brilliant thing we have ever witnessed is asinine. Come scrub the kitchen floors and fetch your own breakfast. I think it’s pure greed. The monarch takes from the people our crops, money, and rent all to parade around and attend parties. Their lives would be impossible without the people. They keep the masses hungry and underemployed to make it impossible to challenge the absurdity of it all. Forcing us to bow and obey. I hold no respect or love for our royal family. People suffer while they dine on gourmet cuisine. I serve as a slave because their dysfunctional family dictates tradition.“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
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
Theia“Does the King know of other loyalties?” “The King holds no dominion over me.” Erebus growls. “I will be King one day. He will be dead and buried. I comply only for Edward, his heart beats for his King.”“Does Edward know of your other loyalties to a line of witches?”“Little wolf, let’s not play.” His voice rumbles. “You and Ceres are only newly bonded. There must be much of you she does not know.”“Of course.” I admit freely. “Not for want of hiding, just lack of time.”“We all tell ourselves lies in order to be the people we think we are.”“I know who I am.”“Who? You haven’t even told me, little wolf. Your mate. Your alpha.”“I am Theia. I have not concealed that from you, my love.”“What is a name? What does that even tell me of you?”“It told me a lot about you.”“Theia.” He says. His voice rough like a gravel road. “Theia.” His voice slowly enunciates each sound. “I cannot recall the Goddess of this name. I see only you, the light to my darkness. Pray tell, what does you
Asteria “Clever child.” The serpent hisses. “You smell of dirt and rain. Of thunderstorms and death. Why did you come to my cave?”“I— ” I pause. I do not know what to say. “I smell of death because I am a murderer.” The idea such a statement would intimidate a beast like this is laughable. “You are far too young to be yoked with such a name.” “I was betrothed to… to a man.” I don’t dare mention Prince Aares. He may hold no dominion over beasts, but he held it over the lands. To exist on his lands is to bend to his will. “I killed him.”“It smells as though you did not escape unscathed.” The serpent slithers around me, its tongue probing the air between us, gleaning information. I had forgotten about the strike to my back with the whip. The pain surfacing, tiny prickles along my back, the blood weeping and partially dried. My body shivers, the cold air of the cave whirling around me, my thin gown doing nothing to keep me warm. “You should start a fire, I can offer no warmth. My e
Theia“What was that?” I demand. “These caves are ancient and the veil between worlds is thin.” Erebus begins. “Tell me, what do you know of my line?”“Shadow Moon line hails from the dark forests of our plane. It is one of the oldest lines, cloaked in secrecy, tainted millennia ago by the dark spirits of the other world.” “Tainted.” He says with a growl. The word grating on him. “No, touched. Blessed.”“Being kissed by darkness is no blessing.”“What would you know? I assume no darkness taints your line by the way you describe mine.”“My line has flirted with darkness as well, we just choose not to accept it.”“Oh, my error, m’lady. I didn't realize you had such moral superiority.” He mocks. “Can one be morally superior by the decisions of their elders? I think not. Perhaps just from better stock.”His laugh is tinged with bitterness. “So, do you see me unworthy of you?”“No. I see no such thing. We all have our crosses to bear.”“Hmm.” He says in return. “Yes, my people hail from
AsteriaThe moment I killed him, I knew I was living on borrowed time. Killing your master is a violation of the purchase contract. Defective merchandise to be destroyed. That’s just a regular occurrence. It’s a whole new level when that master is the Crown Prince and future King. I ran through the woods, the power still buzzing through my body. My body electrified, drenched in pure power pulsating through my veins. Drunk on it, both ecstatic and devastated. Woods just like this into caves that we have just fearlessly entered into. The smell repulses me, sulfur and garlic with a touch of rotten egg. This cave has snakes, their musk lingering and clinging to the walls. The pungent smell of rats hanging in the air. Old blood. “Stop!” I scream, hoping Theia can hear me. “Stop! Turn back!” My body being dragged deeper into the cave. Into the darkness. I can only bear witness. A witness to an execution, quietly observing a government murder, doing nothing to intervene. “Ceres! Ceres!
Theia “Smart.” He growls as he gets off of me. “Tell me, Theia.” He pauses after slowing saying my name. The way my name sounds ignites a fire within me. A biological desire to give him whatever he asks. “How did you know my line? Do your people focus more on knowledge than power?” I sit up proudly, a silent pillar, a long forgotten ancient deity, admiring my worshipers, so used to being asked questions and giving no reply. Erebus slowly stalks around me, an endless slow circle. Each circle tighter than the last. I long for him to come closer, the weight of his body missing from mine. “Do you wish for me to guess?” “Doesn’t the Shadow Moon love a good game? Or do you only play games of physical strength?” I ask coyly. I know exactly where he hails from. His scent and name only make it clearer for me. I lived centuries before Ceres was born. I studied every single wolf line. There is no way to know how matches would be made on this plane. Only the Goddess knows. There are expe
TheiaHis wolf appeared in the mouth of the cave. His dark inky coat is almost impossible to see in the dark, but his eyes, pools of molten gold, impossible to look away from. My pull to him is on a cellular level, every single cell in my body aching to be near him. The light to his darkness. The yin to his yang. We are meant to be. “Mate!” I hear a harsh growl penetrating my mind. His power capable of mind linking before our sealing. His aura blankets the cave and demands my submission. “You should not have come here. You are to follow me!”It’s clear he expects this to be a one way conversation. His wolf impatiently stares at me waiting for my submission. “I have a name and will not be talked to as a child.” I say sassily, unleashing my own aura in the cave. The power is suffocating. “How?” My mate stammers, stunned. I walk deeper into the cave, my paws clicking against the stone. I feel a pull, but I do not know where it is taking me. I press my nose to the stone and inhale de
Asteria I was born a killer. My very first breath stole the life of my mother. Her life the price for mine. A dark spirit must have traveled with me on my journey to my first life, one that would forever stain me and give me power beyond measure. Not the power of my people in my village. Their power is rooted in life. They are the people of the fields. People of the goats and sheep and cows. People full of love and light. I am storms and dark nights. I am moonless skies and barren fields. I am the harbinger of sorrow and loss. It’s a gift that I was given a chance at life at all, I suppose. If my father saw my future, would he still have chosen to save me? His powers rooted in life, he could not conceive taking mine. Even if I was tainted by darkness. Even if he could never keep me. He sold me to save me. “I am going to miss you when you go.” I say to the maid. The memory playing before me like a movie projected on the screen. My small body and innocent eyes. I couldn’t
Theia Magic has no effect on me. Well maybe no effect is a bit of an overstatement; negligible, it has a negligible effect, like when you have a glass of wine. Maybe I get a little drunk, my focus a little blurry around the edges, but I am still in control. I can feel the wind shifting toward the King, like he is calling it to him. Even my fur seems to tug at me to follow the direction of the wind. My instinct to run with the wind is overbearing, like a nagging demand to turn around and run with it or face certain peril. The magic has not numbed my senses or surrendered my control. Perhaps these tricks would have worked when I was a pup or even a young wolf, when I had only just begun to test the limits of my drive to survive. I have spent lifetimes honing my skills to serve my Goddess. Hunting in the forests of my plane. Chasing and being chased by friends and foes. Preparing myself for what was to come. The training lasted far longer than any scholar had anticipated. To be the l
It was as if Asteria’s memory played out on a screen in front of me. I’m a captive audience, cordoned off in a far off corner of my mind. Separated from my body but still aware of what is happening. The scene from Theia’s point of view also playing out, oddly disconnected from me, padded feet to forest floor the smell of earth and water. The dirt flecked in her fur and her nose pressed to the earth inhaling its aroma. Asteria’s trauma unfolds before me, almost happening to me, although the screams are not my own. The hunger in his eyes. The manic rage. His whip. My feelings are not entirely my own, it is as if I am Asteria in this experience. “Prince Aares.” I say in a voice that is not my own. A memory of an event I never experienced, yet vividly recall. This isn’t real, yet, I can feel his whip biting and tearing my skin. I can feel the blood snaking down the back of my thighs. The warm ooze somehow soothing the stinging pain. My back flayed open. His scent coats my skin like an