Jessamine
A month later...
One more hour, and I'll be with the council. I can totally wing this and not throw this boiling hot tea in their faces. Why father saw the need to include tea parties in my schedule is a mystery to me.
He thinks I need more friends. He thinks I'm depressed.
I have no idea why he thinks that. I'm doing well. I've been great. I have excelled in every part of my training, except for one. Shifting. I'm a terrifically quick learner, the scholars said.
Bored is what I was. Eager to get out of my head and far away from my thoughts, I'd stayed busy the whole time. Learning what I could of every and anything. Seeing my progress has Father pleased. He's never pushed or forced me to make decisions I don't want to. He just watches and gives his approval.
Saying I love him would be a stretch, but I do admire him. And maybe I want to please him a little more. Is this what every daughter feels around their father?
He's made me his Emissary and Darrock his adviser, but the latter is for show, seeing as he consults me instead and makes me seat with him whenever he works in his study. He trusts me. Only me. On some days, it makes me feel special. On other days, I'm on edge, ensuring I don't make a mistake that breaks that.
I'm rising up the ranks, faster than usual. They envy me. They hate me. They fear me. In the last month, I've had seven Alphas yell at me and demean my very existence in the Great Room, for voicing out my opinions. And eight more blatantly ignore me everytime I attended those meetings.
Father didn't butt in. Oh, he let me handle it. At first, I'd felt betrayed when neither he nor Darrock tried to step in. Or help me. But I came to realize later that in Dawn, the men are authoritative, domineering bastards who find it particularly hard to bow or bend the knee to a woman.
I didn't care for the power. I still don't, but I didn't like being neglected and constantly insulted. Being called a stupid child. Being called the product of a whore and a murderer. If I wanted to be respected, or heard, I had to do it myself.
So, I reacted and made one example. Just one. It wasn't entirely intentional, but it hit the mark.
Elder Draven, a short, wiry old man with a poisonous tongue and a wrinkled face that knew no smile, sat by the corner, rocking back and fort in the red cushioned seat as the Alphas and Elders argued extensively on the pros and cons of getting involved with Neredian-rogue war. Exchanges were getting harder with the humans. Trust was broken. We had nothing to do with their war, and we were still getting affected.
A headache had just begun to form in the back of my skull, and while I'd taken to sitting in the corner and just watch them talk, it was getting aggravating. Father's blue eyes caught mine, and he arched a brow, askance. A silent question. Have something to contribute?
I nodded, flattening my hands against the cool surface. I stood, clearing my throat. They didn't look my way, or stop talking. Beyond irritated, I pulled myself up, leaping onto the table. "Since King Harmon won't be persuaded, and the borders to his lands have been closed off to outsiders because of our choice to remain neutral in this fight, how about exploring alternative trade routes? I hear there are lands beyond the Great Sea--"
"Barbarians! You would risk our identities to barbarian!" Elder Draven yelled, his grey eyes glittering with anger.
I turned to him. "Well then, how about we stop pretending like we don't care? It's clearly affecting us. Hoarding food and crops in your homes guarantees that only your stomachs will be filled. Should everyone share the same sentiment, there'd be nothing left for the packs under--"
"What would you have us do then?" Alpha Zaia said, levelling me with a cold stare. "Shall we fight with the Neredians who shut their gates to us and killed those who couldn't flee in time?"
"I never said that--"
Bael shifted in his seat. "I believe what the princess is trying to say--"
Elder Draven, the stupid crone, was out of his chair, storming for the long table. "Know your place, Beta. You do not speak here." When Bael's jaw clenched, and he looked away without a word, the Elder turned his gaze to me. "Young lady, this council is no place for the prattle of children. Your words carry as much weight as a feather in a storm. Your mother's choices stain your standing here. Best you learn to stay silent and let those with true wisdom speak, or you engage yourself in learning better things to do with your mouth to please men like she did."
Silence consumed the hall, and every breath is held. I sucked in a deep breath and leap of the table in a fluid motion, and in the next second, Elder Draven was pinned to his rotten chair, my fingers wrapped around the sagging skin of his throat. "You're a nasty old man, you know that?"
His eyes bulged, and his hands wrapped around my wrist with surprising strength. I smiled and squeezed tighter. The spots on his face seemed larger and a strangled sound escaped him. Silver flashed in his eyes, and he snarled, his wolf warring against me.
The heel of my boot dug harder into ground, cracking it, and I felt escatic, smelling his fear and panic as my fingers felt the outline of every bone in his neck. He snarled again and I let her take over me. A low, dangerous growl parted my lips, and he started to sweat, his head bowing in submission. "You will sit and be silent as a corpse until this meeting is over." His pupils dilated.
"Everytime you think to take my mother's name or insinuate that I am in the business of whoring myself, you will reach for my father's arrow and stick it in your left eye." He stopped struggling, staring up at me like I was his beginning and end. I smiled, reaching for the gnarled finger that he had shoved in my face with my free hand. It was almost too easy to snap the bone. He didn't make a sound. Or notice. He was caught in my web, my aura tossing him into a trance. "Thank me for not killing you, because I'm very merciful."
He nodded, his gaze feverishly bright, as he repeats my words.
I let him go, and he fell back in his seat, ragged breaths echoing through the hall. When I turned to the table of twenty-five, they were more receptive than ever.
"Your Highness, you have yet to touch your tea. Is it not to your liking?"
I'm brought back to the present and I stare around my receiving room, at the eyes watching me. I smile at Lady Irene, and raise the cup. "It's great, actually. Thank you."
She smiles, her cheeks turning red. To my left, there's another Lady. I'm really horrible with keeping their names in my head. I know who their fathers are. I know what provinces they belong to. But their names elude me.
The brunette sidles up to me, her eyes wide with curiosity. Az takes a step forward, clearing his throat, and the woman sits back in her chair. "I heard your mother held you hostage, away from our king. Surely, your childhood must have been sad. Lonely."
I drop the cup and fold my hands gracefully in my lap. Patience. I'm an epitome of patience and grace and all the wonderful qualities that I'm taught a princess should possess. I smile softly. "It is a sensitive matter I do not like to talk about."
A blonde not too far from me laughs a little. "Forgive Misha, princess. She's lacking in the sensitivity compartment, and brains." Her honeybrown eyes lift to my hair. "You have such beautiful hair."
People pleaser. Ass licker. I don't say any of those things. I smile again, gently. "Thank you..."
"Callista."
I nod, playing with the assortment of rings on my fingers.
A woman with eyes the color of rubies speaks next. "My father says you have the King-roar. Is that true?!"
My fingers tighten on my dress as I provide yet another dazzling smile. "I suppose so." My eyes travel around the room, resting on Nymeria who seats, isolated from the rest. She's stopped coming into my room, or paying attention to me either. She's barely around the castle anymore. Even now, her eyes seem distant, lost in some place else. Sometimes, I feel guilty about taking her life from her. Perhaps, I could have walked away from all of it. Thing is, if I had, there would have been nowhere else to go.
And I needed this. I needed to be with someone I could call my own. My father. I needed to rediscover myself. My abilities and capabilities. My strengths, weaknesses.
She could despise me for it, but I'm not the one who lied about me being dead, when she very well knew how much it would hurt the king. I'm not the one who created that rift.
"I'm sorry," another woman says. A redhead with light green eyes. She's Alpha Zaia's daughter, and she has the same air of authority about her. "You said it was a sensitive matter, but if I'm to become friends with you, I must know how you grew up, and if I am at the risk of being stabbed in the back every moment I spend with you."
There's that silence again, in which I just stare and stare at the woman.
Father told me everything, though, in tiny various bits over the weeks. It brought a lot into perspective; a lot I'm still trying to unravel, but if there is anything I think I know about my mother, it's that she couldn't even kill a freakin' deer to bring home for dinner. She hated the blood. She cringed from it. I had to do it myself on most days. I don't think she killed my grandparents.
But something does bother me. In the days she hurt me, she wasn't herself. There's a possibility that it could've happened in that time, and she made herself forget it, just like she hated to remember that she could even raise a whip to hit me.
I plan to unravel the truth, but well, everyone who was present in that room is dead. I'm not entirely sure where to start.
Still, I'm unsure if I want to answer this woman's questions. Or any other questions today.
A knock on my door saves me from telling her I'm not even interested in being friends with her and a timid voice creeps in. It is Coral, the stables master, and occasionally, the castle's messenger. "P-princess, your father has requested your presence at the Grand Hall. It...it is an urgent matter."
Bless the Goddess.
I stand, folding my hands behind my back. They stand with me, lowering their heads. Even Nymeria. "It's been a wonderful day. Thank you for joining me for tea. We must do this again. Tomorrow, perhaps?"
Please. Never again.
"We would love to," they say in different ways. Nymeria says nothing. She raises her head a little and I tilt my head at her. There's something wrong with her. I can't tell what it is, and I usually wouldn't care, but Father does worry about her.
She catches me staring and looks away sharply. Hugging the front of her stomach. My gaze drops and my brows rise, but I say nothing, heading out the door with Az hot on my tail.
"Any idea what the urgent matter is?" I ask, nodding curtly at the servants bowing in my direction.
Coral runs up to my side, hunching a little as he speak to me, even if I've told him several times that there's no need to. "I-I'm not sure."
I sigh, rubbing my fingers against my forehead. "You can leave. Thank you." When he's gone, I turn my gaze to Az. "Is Darrock back yet?"
He shakes his head, still so quiet, even if we've spent nearly everyday together for a month. Did I forget to mention that he's Bael's son? "But he's due for the fitting today. For your matching wedding outfits."
"Right," I murmur, lifting my skirts. We transverse a series of hallways and stairs, before reaching the first wing and second floor.
The guards push the door open, and I walk in.
"....perhaps a few hundreds, or a thousand--" Father looks up and smiles. "Oh, my emissary will take it from here. You are welcome to stay for as long as you like."
Since when is Father so charitable, I think as I start towards the long table, but the air on my skin suddenly rises, and my gaze shifts to the figure sitting on my father's right, cloaked in an emerald coat.
My gaze is fixed on the top of a fiery red head, and I force myself to keep walking. No way it's him. I've not dreamt of him in weeks, because I've not slept well in weeks.
He wouldn't come here. I'm hallucinating.
But my heart is running a dangerous distance, and my fingers are growing colder.
I hear a sniffle, and the head snaps left, and it takes an effort not to jolt. I see hazel eyes.
Oh God--
He's almost toppling out of his seat. I avoid his gaze abruptly, staring at my father instead, even if my heart's about to explode.
Oh God--
One step after the other. I somehow manage it past him, without looking him in the eye. It's been a month. I've shoved it all in a box and tossed the key into a deep, deep ocean.
I can handle this.
I can do this.
His eyes brand me. I breathe out slowly, straighten my back and lift my chin. I stop by my father's chair and he hands me a scroll. Father smiles at me sneakily. "The Alpha King has come to request our help. He seeks an army and supplies."
He stands, towering above me, and he pats my head twice, more fondly than he likes to in public. "I'll leave the decision to you."
Father starts to leave, then he turns slightly. "Ah, yes. Before you decide, you'll need to see the damage for yourself. Ascertain if he does need our help. If the risks are worth it. I trust you. Be down in time for dinner." His eyes shift to Kier. "You are welcome to attend."
I stare at his retreating back, wondering why he's being like this. I don't want to go back there. I like my life here. Darrock left weeks ago, in my stead, to try secure new trade routes across the sea. Our relationship is as it was a month ago. Just an agreement. Everything is fine. We don't need to interfere and invite trouble. Kier is trouble.
"He called you his daughter," Kier says, and I clutch the scroll tightly, reining in every emotion that threatens to spill to the surface. Then I let myself meet his gaze.
Oh God--
Kier stares at me, unblinking. His gaze sweeps my form, lingering on places I refuse to acknowledge. He notes the rings. The dress. The jewelry. My poise. It suddenly clicks. "You never said you were..." He swallows. "You're the Dawn King's daughter?"
I stare at him blankly. Only in his eyes do I look. Nowhere else. "Yes," My eyes do not leave his as I unroll the scroll and rip it in half. "And there is no help for you in Dawn."