Today's the day I get eaten or live long enough to be thrust into a nightmare—becoming a wife to a Lycan. If I had the decency to be such.
Vampires saw us as blood bags and Lycans as lesser beings they could eat and spit the bones out without the slightest remorse.
Which would it be then? Get eaten or the monarch's new human meat?
I start plucking the tulip petals one by one while mentally deciding my fate. When I got to the last, it stopped at—eaten.
I dropped the stem, the color draining from my face. Now I felt worse, I shouldn't have used the damn petals.
"Such weird-looking hair."
"I know, the color's very odd."
"Nothing like the Archduke's."
"She's a bastard after all."
"Shhh!"
I looked in the mirror at the two handmaids, one brushed my hair, and the other dolled me up. If they wanted to gossip behind my back, the least they could do was be discreet. Tsk!
I gazed at the hair they scorned, it's okay, I do too. It showed how much of a bastard I am, unlike the beautiful golden hair my step sister took from Father, mine was dark indigo fading into icy silver-blue at the ends.
It always stood out, and each time I walked the corridors, fingers were pointed and murmurs erupted.
Here comes the bastard daughter—Don't I know that?
Such unruly curls, doesn't she brush?—I do, every day!
I heard she transforms into a witch at night—Excuse me? I do not!
She looks so sickly, I heard she was born with a weak body—One thing I agree with. I had a lingering ailment for as long as I could remember.
The Archduchess was kind enough to bring her in, such a pity she has to look at her every day and treat her like a daughter—Yes, she's kind and I'm a witch who transforms at night.
Her mother was a whore, she must be like her too. I heard half the knights have fucked her—Oh! I'm speechless.
There are many where that came from, but I've forgotten most of them. I stopped caring about them when a knight walked up to me and asked if he could visit my bed chambers and give me a night I'll never forget.
I got angry as any lady should when her virtue was insulted, but it didn't change a thing. I might be the Archduke's daughter, but I was never treated as one.
Well, let them sing praises to the gods, I'll be gone soon.
The sound of the door creaking alerted us. I peered through the mirror and found Father as well as his council stepping into the room.
"Stand, let us see you," One of them said.
Clenching the sides of my gown, I rose to my feet and turned, keeping my gaze leveled.
"Eyes up."
I swallowed hard and did as told as they evaluated me like I was a thing waiting to be auctioned for the highest bid. I felt uncomfortable under the eyes of five middle-aged men and wanted to cover myself.
I was dressed in an empire waist silk gown, the curve dipped low to make the top of my bosom prominent. The sleeves were far too short, and the corset beneath was on the verge of suffocating me to death.
This was the first gown I'd owned, and it turned out to be my worst collection. The rest of my clothing was Fiona's overworn ones, and I missed them already.
"She will do, right?" Father asked desperately.
"I hope so."
"Hmm," another murmured, stepping forward to have a closer look. He was slim and tall.
He studied my hair with a disapproving frown, then they fell on my olive eyes, my lip, then his eyes disrespectfully fell on my breasts—I was tempted to snarl at him at this point.
"She looks sickly, why?"
Father said nothing; he didn't have the answer to that question because, for the past twenty years of my life, he never thought to be involved.
"Let us pray to the gods that the monarch will be… satisfied."
"He has to be and hold up to the end of this arrangement," another said. He was round, hand placed on his belly with fingers donned in rings.
"Certainly he'll. All we need to do is make sure she's suitable enough."
"The girl looks far worse than I thought."
"Wasn't there a better choice?"
"A daughter was the agreement; the Archduke must give up something of value. We cannot give up Lady Fiona, she's the only true living heir."
"The bastard was the better choice."
"If this does not work, we might risk the monarch's wrath. I heard he hates being displeased and kills anyone at the slightest disappointment."
"Maybe we should present her naked? Perhaps she would be more appealing then."
Horror bled into me at his words. I looked to Father, hoping he'd say something, but his approving look was like a slap to my face.
"No, we might offend the monarch if we do that."
"Or maybe we'd please him. The girl is far from perfect, but she looks good enough to bed him."
"Enough! Enough!" The man who stood in front of me cut in sharply. "We're all desperate with this, but we need to think carefully. We're opening our gates to Lycans, we should be civil and not do something that'll put Beloria in danger."
The others nodded in agreement.
Father exhaled sharply. "To preserve the kingdom, this has to work. We need this alliance."
For the first time since he walked into the room, his eyes landed on me. Over the years, I never stayed far too long in the same space as him; he was far too occupied, and if he wasn't, he spent time with his wife and legitimate daughter.
I never ask for anything from him, not gifts or his love. I only wanted him to look at me, really look at me, not like one of his knights when giving out orders, but as his daughter.
But it was one of those dreams that could never come true. Because even now, when it's inevitable that I might die tonight, he looked at me the same way.
"Ensure that you do not disappoint me, do you understand me?"
I buried the emotions that wanted to drown me. "Yes, Lord Ravemont."