Red's Wolves

Chapter Five

When Alera's bedroom curtains were ripped open the next morning, the bright early rays cruelly woke her from her fitful night's sleep. Brigette was already moving about the room with purpose and without apology.

"It's about time you woke up," she muttered as she opened the armoire and began sorting through Alera's dresses. "The Prince is going to be here before you're even out of your sleeping gown."

"Prince? What prince? Prince Nicholas?" She clutched her bedsheets to her chest at the thought, but Brigette was quicker and pulled them off the bed completely.

"I don't know of any other princes coming to the castle to see you," she said with a huff. "He's arrived early and your father has requested you rise to meet your guest of honor at once."

As if she didn't already feel miserable enough, Alexa felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she finally rolled out of bed and trudged to her washing room. Her reflection in the mirror over the sink showed exactly how she felt—her fitful night's sleep was obvious in the bags under her eyes and the downward turn of her lips. Even as she lifted the cold water to her face in an attempt to splash away the exhaustion, her shaking hands could not be disguised compared to the amount of anxiety she felt about the day ahead.

This would no longer be a birthday to barely be remembered, but one she already wished she could forget.

She took as much time as she knew Brigette would allow, and she could already hear her muttering to herself through the washroom door. Slowly she opened the door, only to see a ridiculously elaborate gown sprawled over her bed, waiting for her.

A movement out of the corner of her eye showed Brigette in the corner of the room, by the window, and Alera watched as she tried to make a discreet sign of faith to whatever god she was praying to now before she turned towards the Princess to perform her sworn duties. Whether or not she was trying to be discreet, it was clear as day to Alera. She continued to keep her tired features neutral, and just wanted to get the day over with as fast as possible.

"Let's get this over with," Brigette said with a sigh, as if she could read Alera's mind before she started going to work.

The dress was a conglomeration of dark, heavy patterned materials that resembled tapestries more than the dress material of anything she'd ever find in her armoire.

"This is what the ladies are wearing in Abigor, so you will need to get used to it," Brigette warned as Alera shifted and groaned in protest to the tightening of the low-cut bodice, and any further protests were silenced with another tug of the already tight correct around her stomach and chest. The tighter the cords pulled, the harder it was for Alera to breathe, and a small portion of her mind patiently wished for such a sweet release, to pass out and no longer have to be confronted with learning how to walk around looking like a humanoid sofa cushion.

If that domestic torture wasn't enough, once she had finished tying off the bodice strings, Brigette forced Alera to sit down in front of her vanity mirror—a feat in its own right—as she began to brush and tug at Alera's sleep tousled, unruly red mane.

When she felt the powder fall from her hair and against her face, she coughed only once before Brigette shushed her and reminded her that if she was going to be Abigor's queen one day, she needed to at least pretend to look the part.

She closed her eyes as Brigette shifted her attention to her cosmetics, and Alera imagined herself back in her bed, listening to her mother's lullaby—even the mournful howling of the wolves would have been more welcome than what she endured.

And then she opened her eyes and wanted to cry. But that would have messed up her eyes and caused Brigette to fuss over her and her inability to appreciate what was offered to her.

But Alera didn't want any of this.

She didn't want the massive conglomeration of stiff and inflexible powered hair upon her head. Or the makeup on her face, or her lids, or her lips. She looked like a fool from the traveling mummers' troupe. To believe that anyone in their right mind would want to look like this, or dress like this on purpose, seemed a cruel joke. But that's what her life seemed to be becoming. Just one long, running joke. Even Jere would probably laugh when he saw her—Jere. She hadn't thought about him since falling asleep, and she couldn't imagine what would happen if he saw her like this. Did he even know Prince Nicholas had shown up earlier than intended? He must if the Prince arrived on horseback and brought to the stables.

An audible groan left her again, and Brigette tsk'd through her teeth.

"Too much work has gone into you now to go to waste. So you're going to smile and meet your future husband and act accordingly. Like a lady. Befitting of your station. Or so help me, I will not cover for you if your father asks why you're not at your dinner."

"My dinner? But it's so early."

"And you're going to meet the Prince now, silly girl, and he's going to attend your birthday celebration this evening."

So it seemed she couldn't even celebrate her own birthday in peace, for now it was to double as both Prince Nicholas' welcome party and their engagement celebration, to boot.

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The walk to the throne room was akin to a death march. Every step along the intricately imported carpet brought her closer to the impending doom of her future. Side to side, she glanced for a way out, some escape that would cause the least amount of attention, but there was nothing. The way from her bedroom to the meeting hall was a straight shot to the inevitable end. Even Brigette may have sensed her feeble mental attempts because she kept her attention on her while they walked, as if she was preparing to bar her way at the first sign of revolt.

She didn't know why Brigette was so invested in her future, anyway. The maid detested Alera as much as she hated dust. But perhaps that was the reason why, she considered as they walked closer and closer to her waiting guest. Once Alera was gone, Brigette would be rid of her and her canny blood, and the maid would no longer need to bless herself before she was forced to touch her. The thought made Alera scowl.

"There's no time for a face like that," Brigette snapped. "We're almost there, so you must remember—smile. And for the sake of the Mother above, do not ruin that dress."

The final comment received a slight glare from Alera, more than she ever allowed herself to show towards the maid, which even had Brigette lift her brows in surprise. It was the exhaustion. She was ready to apologize. The stress and the anxiety... but the doors were opened before she could explain further, and now Alera had guilt pitted in her stomach on top of everything else.

Even the early morning sunlight of dawn could not bring warmth or joy to that meeting hall. The moment the doors were opened and Alera stepped in, every member of her father's court who had gathered, and all of Abigor's entourage, stopped whatever they were doing and turned to face her before the guard could announce her presence. Heat rose to her cheeks as she kept her gaze down on the ground, not only to avoid those stares, but to focus first on the more important task at hand—not falling on her face before she made her way to her father.

And towards Prince Nicholas.