Jessamine
I’ve been involved in an unhealthy number of ceremonies, and each time, it’s even less eventful. That isn’t to say that our wedding wasn’t a large affair. I’m fairly certain nearly all of Ashbourne was in attendance, all eager to see the werewolf princess with eyes like precious stones. Yes, someone said that as she delivered gifts to me, wishing me a long, happy marriage—a duchess, maybe.
If only she knew.
The castle couldn’t contain all of the guests and the guards around me were triple the normal size, like Atticus half expected someone to disrupt the ceremony. Someone who I can bet is Kier. Nervous, the entire time, I’d waited, staring at the door, hoping for a commotion that would bring a special redhead to me.
But Kier never showed up and the ceremony was sealed. I was the puppet queen of Ashbourne. I was Atticus’s dove, his pet. I was thankful that nothing else was expected of me, other than sitting still and looking pretty. Unlike Kier, Atticus didn’t entertain the idea of women having a say in political affairs. He didn’t even believe women were to have opinions. He talked plenty. He talked all the time. I listened, I nodded, I smiled gently for him, I hated him.
The days after the wedding were slow, painful. For a couple weeks, I was a mess. Between my body rejecting the bane they kept administering to me to dampen the bond, and the morning and night sickness, I couldn’t move around much. Not that I wanted to. I cried every day, vomited everywhere, and had rather severe dizzy spells.
Atticus lavished me with gifts. They remained in my dresser, untouched, and he gave me space. Time. Or so he claimed. I think he got repulsed by the smell of puke and illness that constantly clung to me.
It got better after a month. I could manage the walks with my maid—Oriana—who barely makes for good company, seeing as she would much rather act like I don’t exist than speak to me. From Raya, I learned that Oriana was the queen, and after killing Hamon, Atticus had laid with her—by force—and then reduced her to the status of a hand maiden.
She despises our kind, because she believes the lot of us are exactly like Atticus, and I can’t blame her for grieving and wishing us dead. So, I let her be, maintaining my best behavior when she’s tending to me. Surely enough, in the coming months, she warmed up to me slowly. Oriana’s definition of warming up only meant lingering to ensure I was tucked in at night. Staying within reach, in case I needed her. Leaving me sweets, even if I’d eat them until I got so ill and had the worst stomach aches the next day. It was like she knew everything I would crave and would provide them before I needed to ask.
I suppose she did know. She’d been a mother before Atticus took that from her. Her nieces were helps in the kitchen as well. They were who she referred to as her children.
There are others. Once, I met Nadine’s sons with Atticus, and I can confidently say they want me dead too. When the oldest of the duo had lunged for me with a knife and I’d been too startled to respond to a child trying to kill me because he blames me for his mother’s death, just like Lloyd, it was Atticus who pulled his son away. As punishment, he sent both away to a human school with provided quarters. I felt nothing but relief at that. When things go downhill, I wouldn’t want them caught in the middle and in danger.
Though, I did nothing to rouse his suspicion, Atticus was especially skeptical. I was much too relaxed for someone whose mate and father had abandoned her. He neither received a response from either of them and it was messing with him. It wasn’t that I was relaxed. I was just grateful Kier wasn’t being stupid and turning himself in. I knew he would come, eventually, and I had to hold out and make it easier for him whenever he came, and to do that, I needed Atticus’s full attention and trust.
It began subtly.
When he wasn’t having important meetings, Atticus ate alone in his bedroom. I began inviting him to mine. He never visited, until I’d spent my entire day in the kitchen, preparing what I’d learned was his favorite, and I paid him a visit instead.
The soft padding of feet across tiled floors alerted me of his approach and Oriana and the rest of the maids tensed beside me as Atticus flung the door open, a snarl already forming on his face. However, upon seeing me dressed in his favorite color—gold—and the inviting swell of my breasts, he hesitated. “What is it?”
I smiled gently, letting my eyes purposefully trail over the mass of wet hair clinging to his handsome face, and his bare chest. He seems to have just left the shower, the sweet scent of soap still clinging to the air. All he had on was a pair of black pants. “You have yet to eat dinner. I thought I’d—”
He drew back, his blue eyes suspecting. “I’m not hungry. You may leave.” Every word was a snap, harsh, and cold, but all I heard behind them was desperation. He was frightened by my presence and what it did to him.
“Atticus,” I whispered and dropped my gaze to the ground slyly, in a show of submission. “I would…i…I’ve waited so long. No one…” I force the tears to spring to my eyes. I think of every day without Kier and the longing that threatened to kill me. it wasn’t that hard to summon the tears. “No one came for me.” A single tear slid down my cheek and I bring my hand to my belly. “He’s abandoned me again. He’s chosen his people over me again and I…I mean nothing to any of them.” I choked on my sob as I brought my gaze back to his. “You’re all I have. Don’t…don’t turn your back on me too.”
Something in his unusually cold demeanor cracked, and I saw what he saw—a chance with the woman he longed to have; a chance to dig his roots so deep in my mind, there would be no space left for Kier.
But he hesitated, and I reached forward, unwilling to let go of the chance to have him wrapped around my fingers, and I buried my face in his chest, weeping and sniffing in deeply as my fingers dug into his bare shoulder.
It also helped that my chest was pressed against his so closely, he could probably feel the soft skin. It took minutes, but he put his arms around me eventually, whispering as he twined his fingers in my hair, “I’ll never leave you. I am all you have.”
After letting the maids set the table, he dismissed them. I saw him hesitate before eating, the accusation flashing in his eyes for the briefest of seconds. He wondered if I had poisoned him. So, I reached forward, teary-eyed, and I sobbed as I brought the spoon to my lips. “You don’t trust me.”
“For good reason,” he murmured, but his voice was soft and he reached forward, stopping me midbite. “But I want to, dove.”
Fool, I think. No. The food isn’t poisoned. Though, I’d doused it with a little sedative from the array of tonics I’d been provided with by the physician to help me sleep. Just as precaution, in case he got it into his head that I’d come here for an entirely different reason.
He didn’t though. Once we were done eating, he joined me on the couch, pulling me into his arms like a child, and I force my muscles to relax around him, at his touch. He seemed pleased at that. He then, began to tell me all he had planned for our future. Such elaborate plans, and when I yawned, it wasn’t entirely faked. He stroked my hair as he spoke, and I feigned falling asleep.
I half expected him to grope me, but he didn’t. He carried me to my room and tucked me in. Before he left, he kissed my forehead and I leaned into it, sighing softly in my supposedly sleepy state. He smiled against my skin, and then yawned, muttering something under his breath about how tired he was.
And that night, for the first time in a while, I chuckled deeply.
*****************
“How about Leander?” Raya asks, her eyes practically glittering as she sorts through a list of names she thinks would be perfect for my son. I have no idea why she thinks it’s a boy, but she’s been at it for days, naming herself his godmother. I’ve been allowed only Oriana and Raya as my companions, the latter being because Atticus deemed her harmless after putting Darrock in the dungeons where he is allowed no visits. Not even from his sister. I wonder sometimes if I should feel bad for him, but then, I remember he’s the one who put me here.
Werewolf infants grow faster than humans, and as such, at four months, I’m sporting a bump. Everyone thinks it is Atticus’s, but Oriana, Raya, Darrock, Atticus and I know the truth. Maybe add a few of the guards and the physicians. But it might have well been his. He dotes on me, providing me with everything he thinks I’d need and Oriana swears I have bewitched him. That makes me laugh.
“Or Thane?” Raya asks as I pull myself up the bar, groaning.
Oriana scoffs. “I have told you, child. ‘Tis a girl.”
Raya begins to argue with Oriana, and while I’d usually butt in, something about the guards standing by the training hall’s door has me feeling uncomfortable. In the past months, I have worked on gaining Atticus’s trust, and it’s worked wonders. My guard detail has been cut down from eight to two. I can wander about without being questioned.
I’m still not allowed to speak in public, but there’s no need for that when I can simply manipulate his thoughts by whispering them casually. He listens to me, whether or not he realizes it or even wants to.
But this morning, I’d awoken to an entire train. Twelve of them, most of which I don’t recognize. He changed them, I realize. But why?
I have my response a few minutes later when a guard slips into the hall, approaching us. Something about his eyes strike me as familiar, but I know I haven’t seen him around here. He bows low in greeting. “Lu—Your Grace.” He straightens, and his honey brown gaze drops to my round belly, peeking out of my sweaty armless top. His lips tighten with disapproval, but the expression is gone when his eyes return to mine. “His Majesty requests your presence in the throne room.”
My mind is suddenly addled. I don’t forget faces. I…”Have we met before?”
His complexion turns chalky, and his gaze darts over his shoulder to the guards waiting behind and back. “I’m new. I finished my training recently and it’s an honor to serve among your elite guard.” He lowers his eyes to the ground. “I am Easton.”
He’s lying, but I’m unsure what precisely he’s lying about. But I nod, wiping the sweat off my brow. “Tell him I’ll meet him in—”
Easton steps forward. “He said to bring you along now.”
Oriana shuffles forward, falling into step beside me, and Raya takes up the spot on my left as I murmur, “I cannot appear before him like this, and he has clearly stated that I am not to be interrupted during my morning exercises.” It helped with the back aches, among other things. That had been my excuse to request some time to train every day, but in truth, I was building strength. I’d earned his trust enough to have him eating out of my hands, enough for him to let me stroll close enough to the gates to notice the guard shift. I have but a few weeks left before I put my plan into action and now, this sudden change.
Another guard enters, and I recognize him as Killian, the captain of Atticus’s guard, who also happens to be Raya’s personal hell. She hates him, and he hates her too, but recently, I can tell there’s something else there. Even now, I feel her stiffen beside me at his presence, and his jade green eyes size her up before meeting mine. “I am afraid it is an urgent matter. The King wishes you to meet with a special guest. Best not to keep him waiting.”
He doesn’t wait for my response before taking my arm and pulling me forward roughly.
“Careful,” Oriana chides. “Lest you harm the child!” Her protests mingle with Raya’s angry outburst, and when we reach the doors, the guards stop Raya and Oriana from following, while I am tugged harshly down the steps.
My awareness is focused mostly on taking one careful step after the other, and when we reach the throne room, I notice a full…house. Most of Atticus’s council is present, and all the seats are taken. “Thank you, Killian. Have them bring in our guests,” he says, waving the guard off, and to me, he smiles fondly. “Come sit, dove.”
I want to ask where, noting the obvious absence of my seat, but I catch on pretty quickly from the way he leans back in his, and moves his hips forward. He means for me to sit in his lap like a stupid pet. I curl my fingers in fists, and I force a smile on my face as my nails dig into my flesh. A few more weeks of this and I’ll be gone from here. Cold spreads up my feet as I approach him and I swallow my disgust, plastering the sheepish, shy smile he likes on my lips.
When I sit on his thigh, nausea rolls in as I feel the hard length of him press into my ass. He places a hand on my stomach possessively and presses his lips under my ear. Revolted is everything I feel, but Goddess knows mother taught me better than to flinch.
So, I sit perfectly still, swallowing as he trails kisses down my neck, making everyone just as uncomfortable as I am, and they look at everywhere but us.
Tears bite at the corner of my eyes and I blink rapidly, forcing my gaze on the chandelier hanging off the ceiling and its many crystals.
And that is when I smell winter…and blood.
My back stiffens, and my gaze drops to the entrance of the room. My ears perk at the clanging of chains and the vicious snarl that shakes the earth under my feet, and…and…I swallow my cry as Kier is pushed into the room.