Hekate’s Bride

Day after day, I go through the gruelling routine of scrubbing my skin until it is nearly raw, bathing in near scalding water and having milk dunked over my head, having the lacing of my bodice pulled until I can no longer breath, and my hair nearly pulled from my head in a bid to have it styled outrageously.

A hiss of exasperation escapes me as a rogue pin pricks my finger, and I pull out the wretched object from my hair, hurling it across the hall.

The room erupts in an abrupt silence as the pin finds its mark, clattering against the marble floor. A collective hush falls upon the gathering, every eye riveted to the rebellious object, as if it were a harbinger of upheaval.

Tension hangs heavy in the air and stirred by an unseen force, I rise from my throne and make my way down the daiz.

No more.

I’m not doing this anymore.

Ignoring the male whose words cling to the air, his voice thick with irritation, I skip the steps, eager to get the fuck out of hall that stinks of testosterone.

“We are not done, princess,” he asserts, voice laced with frustration as he trails after me in his finery of gold and black. He might have told me his name at the beginning of our encounter. I do not remember it. I didn’t care to take note of it.

A mirthless smile curls on my lips and I turn to face him fully. “Go home. I do not wish to mate with you.” My gaze drifts to the rest of the men and I cannot hide my sneer as I say, “Or any of you.”

My words slices through the stifling atmosphere and it takes a moment for them to sink in.

I know what comes after. I can already feel the weight of my father’s stare from across the hall. I can feel his rage shimmering through the bond he shares with us all as Alpha.

But I cannot stop. If I do, the burning feeling in my chest will not stop.

So I lock him out. It is a small, handy trick I learned as a child. As Alpha, he possesses the power to pry into our thoughts if he so wishes to, as well as speak into our minds and tell us what to do. Trust me, you do not want your father, even as revered as he may be, to have such intimate knowledge of your innermost thoughts and desires.

Father rarely pries. He respects me and my feelings. But in moments like this, when I am spiralling out of control, I can tell he is considering it.

I don’t stop walking until I have cleared the hall and the corridor beyond. I am crossing the wide path that leads to my favoured garden when my ear perks up at the soft steps behind me.

With senses heightened, I pause, bending to inspect the lush shrubbery that adorns my path. Inhaling deeply, I allow the fragrant tendrils to envelop me as I speak, my voice carrying an air of casual appreciation, “Ah, how kind of you to grace me with your presence, Ulric. What would you like? Roses? Lilies?”

He snorts. “Your father has called for you.”

I can’t seem to catch a break. A moment of peace is all I ask. A minute or two. To just breathe. To think. Day after day of these ridiculous gatherings have left me exhausted, too tired to even think at night. The days pass me by and I do not feel them anymore. My home suddenly doesn’t feel like a home anymore. It is empty and filled with guests I do not wish to see, music that have gives joy and food that tastes like ash.

I straighten. “Well then, tell him you couldn’t find me.”

The captain of my father’s elite guard makes a choked sound and says, “I’m afraid I cannot do that. Not today.”

We used to do that as lot when I was a child. I’d do something despicable and run from the castle to hide for days until my father’s anger had waned. Ulric always knew where I was, bringing me food, clothes and blankets. However, he would return to my father, saying he couldn’t find me.

I turn to him fully, grabbing the soft cloth on his outstretched hand. “You’re no fun, Ulric.”

He doesn’t smile. It only makes him way older with wrinkles creasing his features. “What you did in there–”

“I don’t need you bearing down on me. I’ve had enough of that already,” I say, wiping my hands. I hand him the piece of cloth and lift my skirts, walking as gracefully as I can without tripping on the overflowing gown.

Ulric follows closely, silent as a dormouse. As we draw nearer to my father’s study, my anxiety grows, reaching a new height when I see Beta Nightshade stepping out the door.

His eyes, much like Thorne’s, gloss over me and his lips tighten with utmost disapproval. He bows slightly in greeting, and though, I feel like I have a lot to say to him, I walk past without speaking.

Ulric announces my arrival and without warmth, my father says, “Bring her.”

My heart plummets and my palms turn sweaty as I cautiously enter the study. The air is thick with tension and wrath, and it envelopes me, constructing my every breath. Father’s aura is crippling and I am drenched in sweat within mere seconds of my arrival.

“Sit,” he says with deadly softness and I don’t dare take another step forward.

Father’s dark gaze pierces mine and my knees buckle he strips me bare of my defenses, bending my will to meet his with one word. “Sit.”

My body jerks forward and I all but run to the chair across him, settling on it with my entire being trembling.

Ulric excuses himself, leaving me to bear the brunt of father’s fury, all by myself.

Hands clasped so hard, I can see his veins nearly pop out, he says, “You have pushed the boundaries of respect and obedience, for the last time.”

My voice trembles with suppressed anger as I shoot back, “And what boundaries are those, Father? The ones that demand I accept a life of subservience and deceit?”

Father’s eyes narrow, his voice a low snarl. “Spoken like the infant you are. These traditions and deceit as you so call it, have been put in place, holding and keeping our pack, our race strong for generations. United. I will not have you jeopardize everything we have worked for. I will tolerate your insolence no longer.”

My fists clench by my side as I lean forward, teeth bared. “And the honesty you taught me, Father? And trust? Shall we talk about that too? And how all my life, I’ve been kept in the dark, fed lies and half-truths, all to hide the truth of what we really are? Monsters! And none of them know it! What we have done. Why we suffer!”

The Alpha King’s face contorts with fury, his voice booming across the room with a strength that has the earth shaking. “You will not insult the memory of your ancestors who did their best to give us a chance.” He leans in, intense gaze bearing into mine. “You will not question my decisions. You will respect my authority as Alpha and do as I tell you to. You brought this upon yourself, letting a lycan mark you. Be grateful that there is not a more severe punishment awaiting you.”

My throat closes as I feel myself losing against him. I cannot afford to. I know what it means to lose this argument. It means apologizing for what I said in the hall. It means agreeing to mate with a male of his choosing, because I very well doubt he will let me choose anymore. It means burying my feelings and my wants and doing as my Alpha tells me to.

I didn’t even know he had marked me. But they won’t listen. They won’t believe me. Why even bother trying to explain it to them?

So I don’t back down. I grasp at anything I can find to fight against him with. Anything at all that might hit a nail in his freaking heart. It hurts me to do this, to say these things to my father whom I love more than myself, but I can’t do what he wants me to. I cannot live like that.

“Respect? Is that what you will call it? It seems more like blind obedience to me–”

“Astrid!”

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His eyes blaze with dangerous fire. “You do not have a choice in this anymore. Theron Frostclaw is my choice of a mate for you. The ceremony will hold in three days and you will go through with it as it is expected of you.”

No.

I rise abruptly, hands slamming into the table between us, and my voice is not mine when I yell, “I will not!”

Father stills. His gaze stays on mine for a moment too long before dropping to the table. They rise up again and they are hard, cold. “You have a duty to Wolvendom, and to your crown.”

A bitter smile slips from me and though my next words aren’t exactly thought through, I mean them. “Well, Father, you can have your crown if giving myself away is the price I have to pay to keep it.”

He blinks, the only sign of shock he will let me see, and he grabs my arm swiftly, forcing me to meet the storm brewing behind his dark eyes. “Do not think for a moment that I will not strip you of your title as heir if you defy me.”

My heart aches with a mix of hurt and anger, tears threatening to spill, but I don’t let them fall. I yank my hand from his grip quite easily. “Take it, Father. Take the title. Take the kingdom. Give it to someone else. I am not interested in inheriting a kingdom built on lies and deceit, and I sure as hell will not mate with a man just to please you and the council.”

And as I turn to leave, my eyes snag on father’s desk. It is broken in half. I did that in my outburst.

I keep my hands fisted as I leave his presence, ignoring the weight of his stare on me.

Mother was right. I am turning. I can feel it. The shift. It grows with each day, regardless of the fact that Rune isn’t here. It continues still. I should not have been able to break that table with such ease. I barely felt it.

Goddess help me, what am I going to do? Why did this happen, and to what end does this even lead? My duties, this bond with Hekate, the growing Void. To what end?