Consequences

Elora's POV 

‘This is absurd,’ I muttered inwardly.

It all still felt like some bad dream or trance. I mean, this whole trade thing couldn't be real, right?

Sigh… I couldn't come to terms with the reality before me. A reality I never saw coming at all. As a weak Omega, my plan was to live a secluded life as a princess, maybe find my real mate and… That was it; I never really gave my future any deep thoughts. Maybe I should have.

One of the four horsemen of Greyhound, moved away from his cohorts and stood before the steps that led to the throne. I don't know what he did exactly, but I saw him snap his fingers, and I was sure to have seen his suit give off a faint golden glow.

Then, in the blink of an eye, a table appeared between him and the obsidian steps.

I narrowed my eyes as I recognised that table. It had been in the throne room for as long as I could remember, but it was usually situated by a wall at my right.

I turned my head and took a glance at the spot it usually was, just to confirm my hunch. It was no longer there. I was right, it was definitely the same table.

‘So he can move objects with magic?’ I pondered internally as I retracted my gaze back to the man. It was very rare for Werewolves to use magic; they usually employed witches if they needed some miraculous assistance.

Hmm, from the way his uniform glowed, it's probably not made of normal fabric. A witch must have made it. That means… Damn, the palace guards of Dunham are definitely no match for them.

Or was father scared, because of their power? Did they threaten him?

I know we've never been close and barely spoke to each other, but I could tell that he actually cared for me. Then what changed?

I kept that thought at the back of my mind as my father walked down the steps and stood at the other side of the table.

I didn't have a clear view of what transpired between him and the horseman from my perspective, but I was sure to have seen a parchment, a fountain pen and some other peripherals.

After a few minutes of doing whatever they were doing, the horseman circled around the table and stood beside my father, who pointed his hand at me and said, “Bring her.”

To be honest, I half expected that order. I was after all ‘a part of the trade’. It was only right that I had something to do in making the agreement.

Two palace guards lifted me up by my arms and pushed me toward the throne. Damon’s body was still shaking as I walked past him, his claws were halfway out.

I quickly turned to him and shook my head as I mouthed, “Don't. You'll die.”

He replied in a whisper, “I'll die for you.”

I was touched. For the first time since I've known him, I actually felt something toward him. It wasn't love. No. Sadness, remorse, and other melancholic emotions related to death, was what I felt for him, because I knew that he was going to die if he did something stupid that night… or morning? I couldn't tell what time it was, and I couldn't care less.

Albeit, I smiled as he said this. Every other person in the throne room saw me as some useless sack of bones that needed to be thrown away. But Damon still cared; it was oddly comforting.

The guards pushed me again and I stumbled before the table. On it was a parchment, in which the trade’s terms and conditions were neatly scribbled. I would have fallen for whoever wrote this if this happened under different circumstances.

I could see the Lycan King of Greyhound’s signature, the horseman's signature, and my father's signature. All that remained was mine.

Though I was bound by the wrists, the horseman passed me the fountain pen anyway. How could someone be so cold and inhumane?

I leaned towards the paper and tendered a random signature, just to spite my father. The horseman wouldn’t know if the signature was mine or not, but my father could easily tell, and it made me glad. That look of shock and anger on his face filled my heart with this odd sense of satisfaction.

That was one way I could get back to him for treating me like some worthless object. It paled in comparison to what he had done to me, but it was still something.

The horseman noticed the uneasy aura around my father, prompting him to slightly turn and ask, “Is everything alright, Alpha Eric?”

My father quickly regained composure and he nodded in response, “Yes, yes. Carry on.”

The horseman nodded and looked towards me. He raised his right hand and a claw jutted out of his index finger.

“Now, all that's left is your blood to seal the contract,” he said coldly.

I flinched back.

However, at that moment, a loud growl reverberated across the throne room and I was no longer before the table.

I found myself in Damon’s arms as he dashed towards the exit. He was partially transformed, his fangs reflecting the rays of the moonlight that pierced through the windows.

But just before we could make it out, one of the horsemen appeared before us. And then again, I found myself before the table. My father shook his head in disappointment, but it wasn't directed at me.

The horseman that had blocked our path, appeared beside his partner and my father. In his hand was Damon’s head.

My face went grim, I almost puked. I turned in search of his body. I found it standing straight before the entrance like some statue, blood pulsing out of his open neck.

It was disgusting, it was painful.

I turned back to face the men before me, my limbs quivering nonstop.

“What the hell?”