Unmatched Pain

"Preg...pregnant?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as shock coursed through me.

Amira, seated on Max's lap, shared a knowing look with her mate before turning her attention back to me. "Yes," she replied simply, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You look surprised, sister. Did you not expect me to be pregnant?”

I forced a smile shaking my head, "I...I didn't know," I admitted, my voice a bit shaky. I was happy for her truly but a part of me is envious that she got her life all figured out.

Amira just shrugged, "You wouldn't have known... a witch gave me a potion to hide my scent because of enemies," she revealed, her words hanging heavy in the air. "Olivia would be coming to assist me if there would be any complications."

I frowned, confusion swirling within me as I struggled to make sense of her words. Why Olivia? Why not another healer? But before I could voice my concerns, Max's urgent shout shattered the fragile peace of the moment.

"Guards!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the room with a sense of urgency that sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned just in time to see the door swing open, revealing a group of guards moving towards me to hold my arms. Panic clawed at my chest as I struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. "What's going on?" I demanded, my voice trembling with fear as the guards pulled me against the door.

"Today is Sunday," Amira explained softly, "You need to receive your weekly whips. I'm sorry, sister, that I have not been able to help."

She looked at me with sympathy, the type of look that would make one heart break.

I sighed and wanted to say something but the guards were already upon me, their rough hands dragging me away.

As I was pulled further and further away from the room, just before the door shut I had seen her eyes. Anything but innocent or sorrowful. It was the sinister glint in Amira's eyes, the flicker of malice hidden beneath those violet eyes, that left me trembling with a newfound fear.

****

Inside a dimly lit basement, I lay on the bed while my friend, Olivia, carefully tended to my wounds. She was the only person in the castle who believed in my innocence. As an omega, my healing was slower, making Olivia's help crucial in removing the silver splinters and sewing up my torn flesh. We have been friends since the day I was sentenced to this situation, where she had come to deliver food to the prisoners.

That night, I would have died from my wounds but she had healed me, I was scared that someone would find out but till now no one did.

I winced as Olivia worked, the pain still raw despite her gentle touch. "Today's whipping seemed heavier than the others," she observed, her brow furrowed with concern.

I nodded weakly, feeling drained from the ordeal. "I think it's because my back doesn't have scars anymore. Whenever he does not see the designs he had done on my back with his whip, it ticks him off.”

Olivia hummed thoughtfully, her fingers deftly maneuvering as she continued her work. "Any news on when this will stop?" she asked, her tone tinged with worry.

I shook my head, a heavy weight settling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of the endless cycle of punishment that awaited me. When Olivia finally finished, I looked at her with gratitude, taking in the sight of the blonde-haired girl who had become my lifeline in this turbulent sea of sorrows.

Sitting up, I carefully donned my shirt, the fabric feeling foreign against my newly healed skin. "I think we should stop this healing," I declared.

"Is there a reason why you want me to stop this?" Olivia asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "Because it's illegal. If they find out you're the one healing me, they will hurt you. Who knows if they suspect you right now."

Olivia scoffed at my concern. "Relax," she reassured me. "I wear a mask every night I come here. No one would know. Besides, we're in the basement, where the healers keep their supplies. No one would suspect a thing. I can't let my friend suffer at the hands of injustice."

I shook my head, adamant in my decision. "It's best we stop. Amira will solve it."

Olivia laughed bitterly. "Solve? Why can't you see, Liana, that your so-called sister is using you?"

"She's not," I protested, my loyalty to Amira unwavering.

Olivia sighed, her expression pained. "I think I know your diagnosis for your loyalty... Stockholm syndrome.”

I recoiled at Olivia's words, "Stockholm syndrome?" I repeated.

Olivia nodded solemnly, her gaze unwavering as she met my eyes. "It's a condition where hostages develop feelings of loyalty and affection towards their captors," she explained gently. "It's not uncommon in situations like yours, where you've been subjected to manipulation and abuse by Amira. She gives you a little of hate and then a good thing and next thing you would be like a loyal dog.”

I swallowed looking down at my arms. Could it be true? Had I truly become so ensnared in Amira's web of deceit that I couldn't see the truth?

"But... but Amira is my sister," I protested weakly.

Olivia reached out and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know it's difficult to accept," she said softly. "But sometimes, the people we trust the most are the ones who hurt us the most."

"It's not true," I insisted, my voice trembling with emotion. "Amira knows you heal me. I believe she does, but she doesn't say anything. Do you know why? Because she loves me and won't do anything to hurt me. And see, she even wants you to come with us for the annual check-up. I think she cares. Stockholm syndrome? I don't have that. I just have a sister and sisters fight all the time. She is working on it, the whippings will stop soon, you will see.”

Olivia shook her head, her expression grave as she turned away, her silence speaking volumes. She probably thought I was mad. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as she turned and left.

Clutching my knees to my chest, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, hot and bitter against my cheeks.

Who was I deceiving…it was obvious, I should know by now that Amira did not really care for me much but yet here I was. I had nowhere else to go. So I had to believe that one day it would all be fine.

****

After much preparation and anticipation, they were finally setting off to the capital where the Lycan's King mating ball would be held in his grand mansion. I sat beside the Coachman whereas Olivia, Amira, and Max stayed inside the carriage. This was the first time I was leaving my pack and heading to the capital, so it was no wonder that my stomach was filled with butterflies. After all, I knew all about the tyrant Lycan king Alaric.

There were countless rumors surrounding him, from slaying an entire pack himself, to killing his family for power and to having a hideous appearance befitting someone cursed.

For generations, Lycan kings have been cursed. They were unable to sense or find their mates. In regards to this, the Imperial Summit mating ball was made, which all high-ranking unmated wolves were required to attend.

However, anyone chosen by the current Lycan king meets the unfortunate fate of death before they even mate. No one knows what caused it, it was a secret kept by the castle. This was the fifth time the king was selecting a mate.

Hopefully it would be his last.