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Chapter 84: Breakfast
Last Updated:
2024-08-02 23:47:09
Lola EversonThank you for reading!
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“It’s normal to be scared.” Margaret says softly. “I’ve really been able to discover who I am, be comfortable with my own wolf— by not being immediately mated. This self discovery time is my fate. I know the Goddess will bless me once I am ready.” I smile politely. Any comment on this conversation other than agreement is unnecessary. Her experience is hers. “May the Goddess bless you.” I say in return unsure of how to respond. “How are things at Beta Vtoroy’s estate?” I say in a bid to change the topic. “Security has been increased. There is unrest near the woods and along our borders.” She says quietly. “Unrest?” I ask, genuinely shocked. “Yes. Chairman Zhadnost came to the estate a few days ago and had a meeting with the Alpha and Beta. The bank has lost assets to attacks they allege are being done by rogues and anti-monarchists.” “Anti-monarchists?” I whisper. “Yes. People are openly rallying against the crown. Refusing to work or fund the crown. Hangings are bein
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“Mate.” The low voice growls, the bass tone vibrates my body, compelling me to surrender. “Mate.” The word leaves my lips as a whisper on the wind. So quiet but full of intention. Breathy and wanton. Theia joyfully surges forward. It’s as if time stops. The crowd around me fades as I focus only on the specimen before me. Fresh rain on Evergreens and lemon thyme. The scent is familiar and intoxicating. “Everything belongs to me, little she-wolf, even you.” He whispers in my ear, his body painfully close to me. My knees feel weak. Just being in his presence is overwhelming. I can feel eyes burning into me. Hushed whispers buzzing around me. His fingers trace my collarbone and shamelessly dip between my breasts. Our heartbeats are synchronized, beating as one, as if our rhythm has always been in tune. “Prince Edward of Fives.” I say breathlessly. “I’m not sure I know your name.” He says in return. “Ceres, your highness.” I respond. “Sons and Daughters of Selene!” The Rev
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“The priestesses will decide if you are worthy.” He says after a long moment of silence. “What?” I say, unclear what he means. His juices leaking like a river from my backside, my body too sore and battered to move. “The Immaculate Mother must accept you as my mate.” He says dryly. “You must pass the exams.” “Didn’t you just—- accept me?” I question feeling completely vulnerable and exposed. “No.” He laughs. “I just took you. I made sure not to seed your womb, so if you are forced to become a priestess or choose to die; at least I was able to taste you once and there are no complications.” His words disgust me. Instead of content and satisfied, I feel used and soiled. I feel Theia’s heartbreak as she whimpers and crawls into the darker corners of my mind. “I don’t understand.” I whisper. “Look, it isn’t personal. I’m destined to be King. I can’t just mate anyone.” He explains. His tone sterile, like he was reading from an encyclopedia. “I had a feeling this match was going
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My face is barely above the water line as I scan the area looking for the person attached to the voice. I really am cursed. A woman emerges from the fog dressed in a pink sheer fabric draped elegantly across her body. The garment was fastened at the shoulder and a belt of gold cinches it at the waist. Garlands of flowers adorn her hair. “We have come to cleanse you.” She smiles. Women emerge from the fog in all directions carrying all the things a fine lady may have in her bath. Their dresses are all the colors of a meadow. Soft yellows and pinks, green gowns adorned with garlands of leaves, soft and sheer, the gowns melted into the water as they surround me. “Our Goddess has sent us to cleanse you and to remind you that your threads are woven together for a reason.” The woman in pink says. “The Immaculate Mother is coming, it is not safe for you here.” I whisper, as a girl scrubs my body with a soap that smells of honey and vanilla. “We are guarded. This space is protected.
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The woman in pink claps her hands and the pond disappears and a meadow takes its place. My body dry and clean, I stand naked. The women who were just moments ago washing and perfuming my body disappear into mist. With a small bow, the woman in pink does as well. On the wind I hear her reminder. “Follow your path without judgment.” Asteria takes a stick and carves a circle into the ground. “What are you doing?” I ask. “We will hold our ritual. It is safe here.” She says plainly. “So you will give me a name?” I ask, unsure of how any of these rituals work. “Yes. I will name you. The ancestors have already whispered your name to me in my dreams.” She confides. “Stand within the circle. No matter what happens, do not leave the circle.” “What do you mean, no matter what happens? What do you expect?” I ask. “You can never anticipate what may appear outside the circle. Just heed my warning and do not leave it until I say.” She says firmly. She stands in the circle, arms raised an
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“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
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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
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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
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 159: Image
“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
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 158: Metamorphosis
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
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 157: Gowns
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
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 156: Cold Feet
“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
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 155: Words Have Meaning
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
