Alpha Faye

Chapter Two

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Word Count: 1991

~Faye

I quickly made my way back to my room to change. For whatever reason, mother hates it when I wear pants - apparently it's not formal enough.

So I wear them around her out of unsung protest.

She spends all her time in bed, so it's straight to her room for me. It's not her fault she's ill, and we haven't yet found a cure just yet. It gives her a good reason to push me around though, since I have no heart to protest against my sickly mother, who everyone conspires will die soon.

Her Guards hardly acknowledge me as I knock on her door. That man who was supposed to bring me here did a horrible job of doing so. He left me at my room and that was that. Oh well, I'm here now.

Without waiting for confirmation, I walk into the room, closing the door behind me firmly, so mother would hear me come in. What I hate most about her room is that I can smell the sickness, since she never opens a window to avoid getting a chill. She keeps her gauzy curtains closed, which do a brilliant job at keeping the sun out. Only a full lamp on her bedside table gives me sight, as the light illuminates her set of pills on the surface of the wood.

She leans her head up off her pillow as I walk in. I see the moment of distress in her milky eyes as she notices my outfit of choice.

"Good morning, mother," I say, not bothering to mention the note. How she had the strength to write that doesn't surprise me. The extent she goes to to ensure I remain straight in my Alpha role can get rather ridiculous sometimes.

"You're late," she notices, glancing at the small clock propped on her little table.

I ignore that statement, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. It sinks under my weight: she likes it soft for her back. Luckily she's bathed already, and her servants had her bedsheets washed while she did so. My mother likes to keep herself groomed, even with Death on her shoulder. She keeps her hair pinned back out of her face, neat and tidy. The one flaw to this, is her pale, sallow skin is revealed, her sunken eyes that have lost that brilliant green colour on complete show.

"I suppose I'm meeting the Huntsman today," I grumble, running my hand against the ridges of her waffle-duvet cover. "The one I never asked for."

"You're hopeless at asking for help, Faye," Mother protests, hauling her frail body up to sitting position, leaning back against her headboard. I monitor her brittle arms, making sure she isn't about to stress them to the point where they break.

Suddenly, the door opens, and someone steps in.

My eyes widen at the intruder. It's the man from earlier, the one who escorted me to my room...that liar.

He seems to notice my expression, those sultry eyes gleaming as he wanders in, hands tucked behind his back out of respect. I should have known. As an Alpha, I shouldn't have passed his lies off, and suspected my mother would put him up to something like that. Already, I can't stand his presence.