He had threatened me and my maids yesterday. He frequently dismissed me and ordered me around, making it obvious that he owned me. He was my king, my master, and my husband, instead of my lover. He told me nothing about himself or his life. The only thing I knew for sure about him was that he was a werewolf. And to be honest, I didn't know much about that either.
However, when dinner came, I was determined to change that. I had been raised in ignorance because of my title, or lack thereof. But, now, he had no right to keep me in the dark. I was married to a werewolf. I should know something about him and his species, even if I had only been a little country slave before.
“What happened to your first wife?” I demanded, absently poking at some ham on my plate. The words came out before I overthought them and convinced myself not to say them. They tumbled out quite awkwardly.
The kingfroze with his fork half way to his mouth, and his eyes grew a fraction at my words. I would be lying if I said it didn't satisfy me a little bit to have the upper hand after all this time. Catching him off guard was not something I expected to do often, so seeing his expression made me feel a little proud of myself. He was always so stable and collected because he was the one who unsettled everyone and ruffled feathers.
Unfortunately, the king recovered, bringing his fork the rest of the way to his mouth and chewing his food, before he answered me. I decided to do the same, but I held eye contact with him. I wanted him to think that I wasn't scared of him despite the knots that were in my stomach telling me otherwise.
“You’ve probably heard all kinds of stories, but the truth isn’t so dramatic. She left me in the middle of the night,” he answered.
He looked like he was about to carry on eating or dismiss me and tell me not to bring it up again, but I decided to beat him to the chase. I deserved to know some things, and I would not let him dictate this conversation. He had seen me in complete rawness, and now it was my turn to see him in such a state.
“Why did she leave you?”
“She never did tell me, but I imagine that it's because I'm a werewolf and she was a human. The two rarely mix, and her father wasn’t particularly fond of the joining which didn’t help,” he explained. He answered too fast and with a certain sharpness, but I couldn't tell if he was angry, lying, or annoyed with me. Maybe it was a collection of all three, and his first wife was too delicate of a subject to touch.
I didn’t care.
“But I'm human; why did you pick me?”
“I've told you before that I didn't pick you. The moon goddess did,” he groaned.
“Who is the moon goddess?”
Now I was certain that King Archer was getting annoyed with me. I watched him closely when he bit his lower lip and his hands clenched tighter around his fork. Yes, I had been delighted that I was getting under his skin like he had been getting under mine. However, he was still the king. He could snap his fingers at any given moment and tell the guards to drag me away to be hanged or beheaded. I wanted to peeve him just enough to make him frustrated but not enough to make him snap.
“The moon goddess is the goddess of werewolves. She decides who we will be with for the rest of our lives,” he grunted.
“And she picked me?”
“Evidently. I thought because I was only half werewolf that I wouldn't have a mate, so I married a human. Clearly, that did not work out, and now here you are.”
“What are mates? And is the moon goddess alive? Is she a real person?” I questioned. My food was forgotten. I had my chin propped up on my hands, and I was leaning towards him over the table.
“You've asked enough questions about werewolves for one night, no? Let's move on to another topic.” His words were tight and clipped.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No.” He didn't seem annoyed anymore. In fact, it was like this question had taken him by pleasant surprise, but I wasn't trying to pester him either. Now that I had gotten him talking, I was actually interested in what he had to say. Though I really wanted to understand more about the werewolf species, I decided that getting to know my own husband would be just as useful. In all fairness, the werewolf world seemed confusing anyway.
“So you grew up all by yourself in this big castle? No one to run up and down the halls with and pester your parents alongside?”
“No, it was just me and my mother and father. What about you? Do you have siblings?”
The question hit me much harder than it should have. It was with that question that I realized how ignorant this man was to my life. My own husband knew nearly nothing about me, and I knew nothing about him. If I had been a normal woman, I would've met him somewhere or through someone in my life. He would've courted me, and by the time the ring was on my finger, I would've known so much about him and his family and already have been so in love with him.
But I was not normal, and the man in front of me didn't love me and might never find it in his heart to love me for who I could be as well as who I had been. He knew the façade that I was carrying around, pretending like my life as a slave never happened. And with his single question, the reality I had kept at bay came crashing back down.
I was no queen.
I was an impostor.
“I'm not sure,” I choked.
“How can you not be su—” the king cut himself off, suddenly realizing what he had said and where I had come from. His brown eyes no longer looked as angry, and his mouth didn't have such a sharp line to it, like thinking of my past had softened him somehow. Or he pitied me. “Willow, how did you become a slave? Is Willow even your real name?”
I stood up at his words. My hands were shaking. My stomach was rolling. My lower lip was trembling. “I think I've had enough food for one night. I'm going to retire to my bedchamber now,” I announced then looked at a guard who was stationed against the wall and held out my arm expectantly. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, and I felt nauseous when his words replayed through my mind.
The guard hesitated, glancing at the king, but I didn't follow his gaze. Though I had no tears in my eyes, I felt very close to crying, and I did not want the king to see me so vulnerable. I just stared at the guard until he doubtfully walked over to me and ushered me out of the dining room. Once I was out of the room, I sucked in a breath as if my lungs had been constricted before. And, on the walk back, the guard said nothing which gave me time to get trapped in my own thoughts as I tried to grasp what had caused such an emotional response from me.
The king had grown up with this, all of this: the beautiful chandeliers, the staff that waited on his every wish, the grand hallways that were filled with paintings, and the stables that had more prized horses than any other single man could ever have. He had two parents who raised him and presumably wanted to be a part of his life. I imagined that they loved him more than they loved anything else on this planet. He had the power to wave his hand and demand that all the women from the surrounding area should arrive at his house so he could have his pick. Every single person in this building was loyal to him and only him; should they not be, they could easily be killed or taken care of in other manners. He had everything, and he had grown up with the world at his fingertips.
I had grown up with nothing. One of my first memories was wandering around a city, looking for my mother who had abandoned me, worried that my fingers and toes were going to freeze and fall off. And after that, a man had found me, tied my wrists to his carriage and forced me to walk around the city and surrounding villages until my master had decided to purchase me. Then it had been a life with disgusting food—but food nonetheless—and shackles around my ankles. Every night, I reminded myself that I was blessed; I had a horse for a companion and straw to sleep on. Perhaps it wasn't the best, but I could manage it all. Still that life did not paint a nice picture in comparison with the king's.
“Queen Willow?” James murmured when the other guard escorted me passed him.
It was the first time I had been called ‘queen’. I knew
it was my title. I was married to the king after all, but I had never allowed the thought to surface. It was too much to think about the massive changes my life had undergone, and hearing the title come from someone I could nearly call a friend was too much. I dismissed the guard that had walked me to my room, turned my back to James, and slipped through the door.
My maids sensed there was something wrong the moment I stepped in, but no one said a word. I decided that I wouldn't either. I bit my lip and forced the tears to remain at bay while the maids began untying the corset and let my hair out of its sharp updo. The frail blond maid that helped me out of my slippers peered up at me and opened her mouth as if she were about to ask me what had troubled me so deeply. Lydia stepped on her toes, warning her to stay silent. They left me alone as soon as I was in my night gown, and I collapsed onto my bed.
I laid there for several hours, staring up at the intricate details etched into the ceiling, my mind so unsettled that I couldn't even force myself to shut my eyes and stay still. I wanted to cry, but something wouldn't allow me to shed the tears. I wanted to scream, but I knew better than to cause the ruckus. I wanted to sleep and think about all of these things with a fresh mind tomorrow, but I knew the king would come see me tonight and every other night until I became pregnant.
All I could think about was this world that I was trapped in. Maybe if I had been born as someone else, the king still would've chosen me—or the moon goddess—but he would dance with me in his arms every night. He wouldn't want to send me away as soon as I was with child. Maybe, for once, I would actually be loved and cared for by someone who wanted me in their life. Maybe I wouldn’t wake up every morning feeling like I was a cursed actress, damned to play a part I wasn’t meant for.
Well past midnight, I heard my door open.
“Get out,” I snapped. “I don't care that you're the king. I don't want you here tonight.”
“It's me,” James whispered into the darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
“You looked upset when the guard brought you back, and your supper had only begun a few minutes prior. I wanted to make sure everything was alright. That he hadn't . . . hurt you,” James whispered, like speaking quietly somehow made the situation any less dangerous.
I wasn’t completely squared up with all the royal etiquette, but I was smart enough to know that no woman should be alone in her bedroom with a man who wasn’t her husband. Especially when that woman was married to the king.
“You need to get out of here. He'll come to my bedroom,” I warned, but my heart thawed at his words. He wanted to make sure I was okay when I wasn’t even sure if I could handle my own mental state. Still, the threat of the king coming to fulfill his promise was enough to make me panic. If I was caught by my husband, who had quite the temper already, I wasn't sure how either me or James would fare.
“He has gone to bed for the evening. Apparently, he also retired as soon as you left,” James informed me. He sounded confident in his words, and no one would know the location of the king better than the men who had sworn to protect him.
And with that, knowing that my husband was not going to barge through the door and breed me like an animal or harm me or my favorite guard, I began to cry. At first, it was soft and restrained. I placed my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound, knowing that it was inappropriate to behave in such a way in front of the staff as royalty like myself should be more contained. And I didn't understand why I was so upset with King Archer and why I was so touched by James's small gesture. But when I heard James's footsteps draw closer to me and felt the bed sink under his weight, I began to sob harder and louder, instinctively searching for him with my hands. I just needed to touch someone, needed that human contact more than I needed to breathe in that moment. And when I grabbed some part of his uniform, I held on tightly and didn't let go.
“Queen Willow,” James said awkwardly.
“Don't call me that,” I blubbered out. “I don't want to remember that I'm the queen. I feel like a fool in royal clothing.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” James requested.
The tension was seeping out of his body. He didn't seem to care that I was crying harder than I ever had in my life or that I was his superior and it was disgraceful for him to be in my room while I was by myself. He was just positioning himself on the bed, moving to a spot where I wouldn't have to reach so much to hold him, and I gladly curled tighter against him. Part of me was still worried about the king, my husband, but I reminded myself that he had gone to bed, and it was likely he would not bother himself with my emotions. The man I had married seemed to understand me less than my guard did. For once, that was a good thing, though it didn't make me feel much better.
“Nothing really happened,” I confessed, feeling like a fool for saying it out loud. “I have been tricking myself for so long that when I confronted reality, it was quite the shock.”
I jerked a little in surprise when I felt a hand drift through my hair. It was an odd sensation at first because no one had ever touched me like that before, and my first thought was that he would yank on it as a punishment or warning because I had done something wrong. Clearly, my past as a slave had not abandoned me, no matter how much I pretended otherwise. But when I relaxed back against him and he continued to run his finger through my blond strands, I realized how good it felt. I could almost feel his warm brown eyes sweeping over my form in the dark, trying to assess my state.
“Your life has changed quickly. That would be hard on anyone,” he validated.
And his words of confirmation set off an entire string of elaborate thoughts.
“I know that I should be so deeply grateful because of everything I have been given. And I am, truly. But I don't think anyone in this palace could understand the life I came from unless they lived it themselves. I had no friends, no siblings. I was unwanted by my own mother, and the man who purchased me afterward always acted like I was a burden,” I began ranting and I couldn't stop, but with James petting my hair and stroking my back, I didn't feel like I had to. Someone was finally here to listen to my words. “My only friend is a horse, which was a big part of the reason he came with me when I moved in. My sole purpose in life was to make sure none of the livestock was stolen in the night, and my payment was enough food to get me through the next night. Yes, it was a hard miserable life, but at least I knew where I stood. I knew what the next day would bring and what the rest of my life looked like, even if it was bleak.
“Now, I'm here, and I never expected to be here. I never even wanted to be here. One morning, I was thrown on poor old Jester, and that started this whole disaster. I've been selected by some werewolf creature to be his wife, though he claims he didn't pick me; someone called ‘the moon goddess’ did. He has given me everything I thought I could ever want which has to be a good sign, right? I have more dresses than I could possibly wear, a stunning room to lay my head at night, and the most amazing food served to me. For a little while, it was enough to keep me content and quiet, but it isn't any more. He is my husband; he married me, and he selected me from hundreds of other eligible women, yet he is always displeased with me, and he hardly knows me. And I’m afraid to let him in because I’m terrified that if he ever knows how unloved I was, he will stop wanting me as well. I can't even fathom living in this palace for a year, much less have a child for him, or many should I not conceive a boy. I never thought I would be blessed enough to have a family of my own, but now that I've been given the opportunity, I'm not sure I want it. It all seems too cold and harsh. I always imagined that a wedding would take place in a church filled with loved ones, and a child would be born to a father that loved them no matter the gender. But it's too late. I've already made the decision, and the king has it in writing. And the king is right. He now legally owns me, not only as a husband but also as my master.”
James stayed silent through my ramblings for which I was thankful. I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off my chest, and I could br
eathe easier. And I was also happy that he didn't disappear because I had stopped sobbing. He was still patting me tenderly, and I was still leaning on him, my face pressed against his chest despite the roughness of his uniform. It felt so lovely to be held, to have someone's strong arms wrapped around me and have a listening ear for the first time ever. James wasn't expecting anything from me, and he wasn't giving me this affection as a reward for a service. He was just with me because he wanted to be—because he was concerned for my wellbeing—and it made my heart feel so much warmer and lighter.
“That is a big difference,” James breathed after a long silence, “and it must be an awful shock to see how different things are from what you thought. I understand your feelings; I was raised in a small house with barely enough to eat. Of course, I had my parents and siblings, but life was not easy for us. I had to start working at a very young age just to help support my family, but when I became a guard and moved into the castle, I was stunned as well. It's a different kind of life; far more lavish than I ever thought but more strict. So much less feeling as well. There's no love or happiness in the palace just as there is no pain or sadness. At least not while in the eyes of anyone else. Every guard, maid, and servant is just as stone faced as the king. Strategy and control are the most important things in this building,” he murmured, almost to himself. With a heavy sigh, he looked at the moon's position in the sky through the window. I could tell by the expression on his face that, as much as he wanted to continue, the conversation was over. “The guards will be changing soon. I must go.”
I nodded my head against his chest before pulling away and wiping the last of my tears. He stood up quickly and began walking towards the door. The moment that we had shared floated away with his physical form, but the kindness from him still held me like a warm embrace.
The First Queen: A Shifter Romance Page 7