It's been a month since my wedding. Rune didn't show up, and the treaty between our races is broken.
In the early days, I would often find myself gazing out the window, subjecting myself to the torture of waiting and hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I would imagine him galloping across my father's lawn, his pale hair dancing around his exquisite face. Sometimes, I pictured him bursting through my bedroom door, whisking me away like a thief in the night.
But the pain became unbearable, and I had to stop.
Now, I spend my days holed up in my father's vast libraries, devouring books of any kind, since I can no longer go to school. At night, I scrub my body raw, tearing at my skin to inflict wounds on Rune's mark that can keep it hidden.
Nothing works. It stands out so starkly, I can no longer wear revealing clothings. I walk around my castle in coats and cloaks, and they watch me with pity. They look at me like I am helpless, like I have been violated and I have lost my mind due to it.
Perhaps they're right. I have barely spoken since that fateful day. I have hardly eaten. I force myself to perform the basic tasks, but the fire within me has extinguished. I can't even bear to look at my reflection anymore because I know what I will find—a hollow shell, shattered and damaged.
My parents have been rather patient with me, likely because I woke up screaming in pain more than twice a day during the first two weeks after the wedding. It was Sloan, and I had a chilling understanding of what Rune was doing wherever he was.
He punishes me, touching someone else, bedding another, despite knowing that though we are realms apart, the bond between us still remains, and his infidelity fills me with burning pain that I cannot escape from.
I've become adept at concealing it. Instead of screaming upon awakening, I rush to the toilet, where I empty my insides until there's nothing left.
That's probably why I look so thin these days. I can't keep food down or even bring myself to eat. My appetite has vanished, and Sloan rarely speaks, as if sensing the fragility of my mind.
It feels as though I am slowly dying. Perhaps I am.
"Maybe a ride out to the neighboring villages will help. I hear there is a new hot spring down at Howlingwood," Ulric suggests, his voice gentle and concerned. I lift my gaze from the letter I've been penning to Maya. She has sent me more than a dozen letters in the past week, inquiring about my well-being and updating me on school and Darian, whose letters I have yet to read.
Those letters remain in a box beneath my bed. One day, when I find the courage, I will read them.
I haven't replied to any of Maya's letters, discarding them after composing just one line. I crumple the paper, tossing it into the trash. "Did my mother put you up to this?"
Ulric sighs. "Your parents are worried. You don't look well."
My eyebrows furrow. "And will the hot spring make me look better?"
"No, but doing things you used to enjoy might help you relax."
I dismiss his suggestion with a wave of my hand. "Another time. I'm busy."
Ulric's expression is grave as he stares at me. "I helped raise you, princess, and it breaks my heart to see you hurt like this. This is not you."
I peer up at him, expression blank. "That will be all for today. Tell Boris on your way out that I will have no more visitors today."
He sighs at my dismissal and bows as he retreats from the library. "At least, have your breakfast. The Queen prepared your favourite."
To that, I do not respond.
A few hours later, I stand from the sturdy wooden chair, and Boris appears at my side almost immediately. "Do you need something, princess?"
He's been trying for a month to make sure I'm alright. He blames himself for all of this happening. If he had been there when Rune attacked me that night at the vending machine, I wouldn't have fired him, and then he wouldn't have been stuck in school with the rest of the sentinels who were watching the grounds, and he just might have been able to save me from the inevitable doom that awaited me at the wedding.
My wedding. I shut my eyes, dispelling the memory at once.
Point is, inevitable. If Boris and the rest of the guards had been present, there is a high chance Hekate would have killed them all. I have told him this, but he believes his presence would have made a difference. He believes I am in pain because of his mistake.
"Yes," I say, handing him the book. "Top shelf."
I start to walk through the door, lifting my dress as I do, but the edges of my vision suddenly blur and my chest tightens painfully. Again? That's twice now in one day.
Sweat beads on my forehead, and I sway, reaching out to grasp the nearest chair to steady myself before I collapse. I draw in deep breaths, silently counting to twenty, willing the pain to subside. Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall.
He can't keep doing this to me. The Goddess can't be this cruel to me. I can't live like this forever, bearing the pain while he fucks someone else.
I can't.
Boris reaches out to grasp my arm, and I flinch, jerking away from him. "I'm fine," I say, my voice colder than intended. He steps back, dark eyes lowering.
Just as we step out of the library, someone stands in my path, causing me to halt. Sapphire eyes gaze down at me, and for a fleeting moment, my heart falters.
"Orion?" I utter, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looks leaner, and his blonde hair is darker, shorter than Orion liked to keep his, and there is something in his eyes that makes me realize just who I'm looking at.
"No. I am Theron, and you have been refusing to meet me, Your Highness.
I take a step back, leaning on my heel. "And?"
"I thought I would meet you in person, and find out if the reason why you have rejected my proposals is because I am lacking in some sort of way or because I look too much like him and you cannot stand me."
"I am a mated female," I counter, not eager to reveal the true reason why I have tossed his letters and proposals in the hearth throughout the past month.
"I am well aware. I followed to retrieve you from Lycanthia a month ago," he responds, his gaze piercing into mine. Unlike Orion, Theron's eyes possess a childlike innocence that suggests a life untouched by hardship.
"And for that reason, I should accept your proposal?" I ask, my tone devoid of warmth.
He shifts uncomfortably, unaccustomed to being questioned in such a manner. "No. Look, I know you are—"
A growl slithers past my throat, silencing him at once. "I am tired of people assuming they understand what I am going through. I am tired of people acting like they know what is best for me. Do you wish to spend your life bound to a woman who can never be yours, hoping it will enhance your standing within the pack and secure a position that rightfully belonged to your brother? Do you desire to waste your years on a woman whose affection and love you will never have? A woman who is forever marked and scarred? Well, go right ahead, Theron. Get your parents here first thing tomorrow morning and get it over with!"
His eyes widen in surprise, and though it pains me to be harsh with him, I know it is for the best.
He is young and untried, yet to find his own mate. Throwing his future away for me would be the gravest mistake he could make. I have nothing to offer him. Or anyone.
And I am fairly certain that if Hekate discovers this, I will have yet another brother's blood on my hands.
The thought alone makes me feel nauseous.
"You misunderstand, Your Highness. I—" he begins.
I sigh, stepping past him. Inclining my head towards Boris, who stands silently against the wall, as if trying to be invisible, I say, "Show him out and see to it that he gets home safely. I will be in my chambers."
I turn to Theron, meeting his gaze directly. "This is the last time you speak to me of this. The next time my mom sends you to me, decline."
Because, it just has to be her playing matchmaker again. Usually, I'd be mad at her, but this is probably her last resort, seeing as nothing else has worked so far to help me.
Halfway to my room, I start to feel funny in my stomach. It hurts and I wonder if Rune is at it again as I clutch my midsection, feeling hot and cold at the same time.
Ignoring the curious glances and greetings I get from the maids and guests I pass by, I count seconds in my head, steps quickening.
But the feeling only intensifies, and I bolt towards my room, headed straight for the toilet. My stomach rises, and I retch a repulsive, yellow liquid.
Again and again, I heave until nothing remains, and then I lean against the cool wall, tears streaming down my cheeks. I grip the sink so tightly that it shatters beneath my hands, the ceramic cutting into my palm.
I release a breath, watching the skin knit itself back together. Turning on the faucet by my bathtub, I rinse off the blood on my palm and the sickening taste from my mouth.
Something drops into my subconscious, like a bomb, leaving me motionless as I consider it. I run out of the bathroom sobbing. "No. No. No."
I pull out the drawers, searching for the small bleeding calendar. Panic consumes me and I upturn it, emptying the contents on the ground.
Finally, I spot the familiar white book, and I grab it, flipping the page, checking each month and date.
And I realize a month's gone by, unchecked. I trace the date backwards, counting the days that have passed since the expected time of my cycle.
My sobs grow louder as I count fifteen days. No. No. Goddess, no.
I begin again, unhinged and hysterical, repeating the days, counting over and over. I am two weeks late.
This shouldn't be. The moment we got back a month ago, I visited the infirmary for the contraceptive tonic. It's never failed me before.
I shove everything back into the drawer and shut it, then run out of my room, making a concerted effort to avoid everyone.
I reach the Pack Doctor's room in record time, storming in without even knocking, and shutting the door behind me.
Dr. Lyris stands from her chair, bowing her head in respect. "Princess, I wasn't expecting you—"
I raise a hand, crossing the distance between us. I peer around the room, ensuring we are alone, before extending my wrist and saying in a hushed tone, "I need you to examine me."
Her eyebrows arch, askance.
I swallow. "Examine for pregnancy."
She looks at me funny. "You are not. I administered you the tonic."
"I'm late. Fifteen days. It's never been this late."
She frowns, doubt evident in her eyes, but she says, "I'd need to draw blood and conduct a few tests and—"
"How long will the test take?"
"A couple of hours. Three tops."
I nod, giving her my approval, and I wait as she disappears inside, reappearing with her tools.
She disappears once more and I wait on the bed for the results.
What feels like the longest wait in my life comes to an end two and a half hours later, when she returns with a grave expression. My heart stops when her gaze meets mine.
"You are with child."