Chapter 5 : My Shining Light

Ayda's POV

When I was a young girl, I remember my father taking me by the hand to show me our kingdom.

"What do you think we own?" he asked me as he held me up so I could see over the balcony.

"The lake, the trees, that…place over there with the nasty vegetables!" When Father laughed, it shook his belly, jostled it around like he was made of those gelatin delights my mother coveted when she was with child.

"We do own those! You are correct, My Shining Light! But what else?"

"Those houses! That train! The horses in the stable?"

"Yes, but what if I told you I owned the very stars you see above you?"

"You can't own that, Daddy! Only the Gods can!"

"Right again, but not 100% right. I may not own them like I do the horses, or the train, or the houses—"

"—or the lake, or the trees, or the nasty vegetables—"

"—but I do own my dreams! When the Gods gave us shape, they fashioned each of us with a soul. A purpose. A dream. A hope. And so, a star was born. Each star you see is a person's hope and dreams, a testament to who they are. We are all born of stars, a way for the universe to know itself—"

"Is that why the stars are around the moon? Around the Gods, because they gave us shape?"

"Yes, exactly! I'm sure you've heard a lot of Daddy's friends talking about a big day coming up. How everyone will have their part to play. Even you someday, My Shining Light. But, I want you to remember that even when things get difficult, when life seems punishing and pointless, to never lose you're that spark, your star. Those wishes deep inside yourself. The one thing you own when you have nothing."

***

I knew my father never intended for me to be packless. For me to be a mateless single woman existing only due the kindness of others. To toil away into obscurity.

I knew when the uprising happened, and we were threatened with a war, my father did what he thought best by giving away his eldest daughter to an Alpha twice her age for protection. I knew he did not know the man was unkind; he had hidden it well to all.

When I ran away to Eventide City, I knew I had dishonored the most sacred covenant between packs. That I had made a choice that left my father in a bind I couldn't begin to fathom. That when I'd returned, broken and defeated—scared and painfully lost--I'd never imagined there might not be a place for me left. What issues I had brought to everyone, not just my family, but to my people, could be permanent.

I'd failed as a princess, as a friend, as a sister, and as a daughter.

I had failed myself.

I was no longer a princess. I had no crown, no deeds, no fortunes.

I had only my star to guide me.

It still hurt when I bent myself low to the floor, arms folded as if I was in prayer.

Begging did not come easy.

But for my son, for his future, I'd walk into the black gates of Tartarus itself.

"I have a contract with Princess Narcissa of the Diamond Spring pack," the words came easy enough, nose pressed into the plush runners that line the keep's many halls. "She is honor bound to fulfill it."

I was so close to having enough money to pay tribute to a neighboring pack that I could taste it.

Freedom, like juice from a fresh peach, was at the ready to nourish my weary body.

I needed only to reach out and take it.

"Please," I said again, voice hoarse with the weight of everything closing in on me, all at once. I sucked in a breath, throat tight and dry. "Mercy."

"Narcissa has no authority here to make that decision." The Prince was firm in his wording; the harshness of his voice cut through me like a whip, flaying what little confidence I had. "For all of Narcissa's grandstanding, she is not Luna. Yet."

If it were only me banished, I would stop here. Just mumble apologies into the unforgiving earth, and count my blessings that he wouldn't send the guards after me. That would have been the wise thing to do.

But it wasn't just about me.

I could feel the shift in his being as I stayed where I was on the floor. The brisk clean scent of surprise slowly gave way to harsh notes of rising anger. He had his riding boots on today, the ebony polish gleaming menacingly from my vision as he loomed closer still. There was a boil to him now, the threat of his Calling hanging thickly in the air. He spoke low, the crack of a log in a fire, all throaty baritone: "Up. Now."

If I had remained standing, my knees would have been knocking together if I hadn't fainted outright, then and there.

My fingers curled but still, I fought on.

"Your Highness, if I could just have a moment to explain—"

His grip on my arm was bruising, claws where blunt nails should have been. A bit of wolf peaked through the veil of his eyes, amber almost molten gold.

Was Prince Sebastian prone to rages like his father?

I'd heard tales of High Alpha Kostas when I was still at court. The Gray Wolf of the Black Throne, warlord of the central lands, great bringer of war. Son of the Great Deceiver, if rumors were to be true. As a child, I believed that, but as I got older, I knew such tales were good for propaganda. As much as a deterrent as a sword or bow or a well-placed militia.

Surely, if the Gods had begotten children, they would not waste their time embroiled in mortal politics?

But at that moment, looking at Prince Sebastian's face, I remembered that not all the Gods were merciful. That The Mad Titan and His Sired once walked upon the Earth, spreading malaise and horror throughout the land till the Moon Goddess banished them to the pit.

He squeezed the hand he had around me, holding back just enough so as not to injure my arm fully.

"I said leave," his voice had the reverb of a howl lancing through it. A brassy rumble I could feel in my chest. I whimpered, in submission, in fear—of him, of what he would do—what he could do—of being turned away. The desolation of what was before me the moment that my feet left the grounds.

He threw me towards the door, towards the servants' hallway, disgust warping his features into a bestial mask: "Leave now, or you will be punished."

One act of kindness, he was allowing me to pack my things. Allowing me to get my affairs in order.

I don't know what I did to cause all of this because surely it must have been my fault somehow.

Some error, some slip, some transgression to have created this much animosity.

I wanted to look at him, to ask him why, but I feared how he would act to me.

None of the staff had said Prince Sebastian was cruel.

Of all the royals in this castle and at large, it was almost unanimous how many servants and countrymen swore fealty to their Prince.

"He is different," they'd all claimed. "He is just."

But here, as I hugged myself on the floor, bruises already darkening on my arm, he was just another Alpha. As rotten as all the rest.

"Ayda?" A woman with small green eyes and hair the color of a sunset peaked out from a slit in the servant's door. I recognized her as Marisa, one of the other maids that Nicolette swore by. I don't think he had noticed her yet. She was willowy, a slip of a girl who blended into the background seamlessly.

"Single marigold on the door?"

"Yeah…that's," Marisa eyed the Prince warily. "That's right…I'm here about August?"

I stood up, lightheaded for a moment as worry slingshot past my fear.

"Is he alright?"

"Well, yes and no," Marisa gave a quick curtsy in her nightgown, pulling Gus into view. He was blotchy; eyes screwed shut as he whimpered. He only needed to take one look at me before he bawled. "I swear I didn't do anything to him! He's been fussy since Maud had to retire early tonight. Food poisoning…"

"No, it's fine," I took a step forward. "He just gets like this when I haven't been around—"

I jerked back, arm twisted above me at an awkward angle.

The Prince a hairsbreadth away.

"Who is that?" He squeezed my wrist, and it took everything in me not to buckle. He spoke as if he'd never seen a child before. There was a frenzied manner in which he spoke the next line:

"Who's child is that?"

"Mine."

I snatched my arm away with a strength I didn't know I even possessed.

I did not want him anywhere near Gus.

The admission was enough to stun him, giving me ample time to hip-check the door open a little more to allow me entry. My heart beat like a hummingbird trying to escape a cage, a rapid whump-whump-whump that drowned any other sound out and narrowed my vision to a pinprick where only my son remained.

I took Gus in my arms, breathing in his scent to calm myself. He smelled of powder, crisp linen, and hope. Finally centered enough to close the door behind me, I pressed my entire body to the thick wooden door, shutting out that beast with the face of a man and latching it for good measure.

Safe, for now…

But it took the last of my strength to do so, and I slid to the floor, legs unable to hold me upright any longer.

Marisa was banging on Nicolette's door, voice a reedy whisper, but I couldn't discern what she was saying. She felt so far away at that moment, though I knew she couldn't be more than a few yards from me.

The world again felt like a dream, unreal in its sensations. Only now, it was less saccharine. The world tasted bitter.

A nightmare come to fruition.

As my vision tunneled out, the sound was muted. Like I was underwater in some great river invisible to me. Was I drowning? Had the pressure become too much for me to handle?

Someone tried to pry Gus from my arms, but I refused to give my son up.

Safe, I had to keep him safe.

He needed to be safe.

In the quiet, all I could hear was the klaxon of my fast-beating heart rushing in my ears.

Telling me, I was still alive no matter how dead I felt at that moment.

The words "what do we do now" echoed in the void of my mind endlessly.