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"Grief has made you strong," Anula whispers in my ear. She smooths out my dress, running her hands on the silk.
They're shaking.
"Grief has ruined me," I respond, my voice is clipped. Nothing beautiful is to be found in the type of violent grief I've known.
"You are not ruined, stupid girl." She stops fretting over my dress and her hard eyes meet mine. "You're about to become a queen, nothing ruins queens."
I roll my eyes and turn my head over to the servants, "Get out."
They quickly stop whatever they were doing and drop into a low bow and leave without a word.
Anula walks across the room, her heels clicking against the hard tile of the preparation room. I watch as she rummages through the dark, weaved bag she had brought along with her.
She makes a noise, a low sigh. Swiftly she makes her way back to me.
Her mouth is puckered as she opens her hands to me, inside them is a small blood-red jeweled box.
"Give me your hand girl," she gestures to my right one. I give her my hand with no hesitation. We have different goals, this I know. Whatever hers may be it involves me on the throne. So until the crown is placed upon my head I'll trust Anula with my life.
She unhinges the beautiful box and inside is a ring, it's gold, pure gold. She places it gently, on my middle finger.
"There have been uprisings in the villages as of late. Rebellions are more violent and successful then they've ever been. The king has had to send some of his best warriors to quiet it down. But even they're having problems. The humans are more united than ever. United and with weapons." My head shoots up at that. My eyes meet hers again, weapons. Well, I'll be fucking damned.
"How did they get ahold of them?"
Anula shrugs but there's a glint in her eyes. Witch on wolf territory.
"The time is now," she speaks so quietly I have to strain my ears to hear, "You started something, with that girl of yours, when you killed the guards." My heart aches at the mention of Rose but fear so harsh spikes through my body.
"How do you know about her?" I whisper with a type of violent fear.
"Witches know witches darling." That's not the full answer but my mind is rushing to fast to care, "Anyways darling Lillian, humans are angry the wolves are weakened and you're about to become queen."
Anula turns my hand over, tracing one of the many scars on my palm.
"Be smart Lillian," she closes my hand into a fist, "and long live the queen."
I take a deep breath and turn towards the door.
Yes, long live the queen.
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The dress I'm wearing is red. The color of kings, the color of freshly spilled blood. The material is lightweight and loose and dangles down to my ankles. I've never worn a dress before. I'm out of place in it, I was not made for soft things.
The King is down the dirt path that is lit with torches. He's shirtless with words written in a language I don't understand crossing the expanse of his chest and back in dripping red.
I bite down my hatred for him, just seeing him causes something vile to bubble up inside me, something cruel.
He will make me queen, he will give me the power to leave him powerless. I can play the pretty bride. I'd let him fuck me in front of the crowd if it meant a crown being placed on my head. Sacrifices, sacrifices, sacrifices. Everything humans do on wolf territory demand sacrifice.
YOU ARE READING
To Love A King
Werewolf(THIS WORK IS COMPLETELY UNEDITED, I WOULD SUGGEST READING THE GREED OF WOLVES INSTEAD UNTIL THIS BOOK HAS BEEN COMPLETELY READ OVER) One of his hands skims down my arm, while the other holds me in place. Keeping me close. While he does this, his no...
