I was no one. I was nothing.
“Dear God. Mabel!” the man shouted, his voice becoming uncertain. But his grip on my arms was steady and sure as he guided me to the couch and slowly eased me downward.
The woman, who I assumed was Mabel, appeared seemingly out of thin air. Though I couldn't truly see her through my tears, I could make out a womanly silhouette. I heard her talking to Andrew in a hushed whisper before she darted away. Andrew moved back towards me, treating me more like a frightened animal than a human now.
“Tell me, where is your home?” he asked softly.
“I don't have a home,” I admitted, feeling a fresh wave of tears start to consume me.
There was silence for a moment.
“What are you doing in Riverstead?”
“I was meeting with a friend, but those awful men—” I couldn't finish through my tears. I felt like the words were choking me. Trying to say it out loud made it feel too real.
“How did you get here?” Andrew continued. His voice was comforting now, but he didn't dare touch me.
“My horse . . . she took off when the men scared her. All of my belongings are on her back,” I managed through a tight throat. I began smearing my tears with trembling hands. I was beginning to manage the emotions that overwhelmed me, forcing them back down as I reminded myself that I did not know this man, and I should not be crying in front of him.
And just as I was getting myself together, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl reappeared, carefully carrying a plain dress. She watched me as she slowly moved around the furniture.
“Thank you, Mabel,” Andrew said kindly.
Mabel set the dress down on the back of a chair, her job seemingly complete, but she remained in the drawing room regardless. Her expression was one of concern but also of curiousity.
“Is she okay?” she asked, directing the question at Andrew.
“I think so,” he whispered before he turned his back to me “What is your name?”
“Willow.”
“Who were you going to meet here?”
“Ella. But my horse is gone. And everything was on my horse. And those awful men . . .” I rambled, feeling overcome with emotion once more.
Andrew carefully laid his hand on top of mine, his blue eyes reflecting his willingness to help, but his unsureness of how.
“You are safe now, Willow. Just tell me what happened, how you got into this mess and my sister and I will do our best to help you.”
“I can't. I can't explain any of this to you,” I whimpered. My head was pounding, and my eyes felt blurry despite the fact that I was no longer crying.
Andrew watched me closely, his brows furrowed like something was wrong.
“Mabel, get her water. Quickly!” he ordered with a suddenness that made me jerk back.
But his concern came too late, and my head bobbed as my eyes closed. A moment later, I was unconscious.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Andrew and Mabel nursed me in and out of consciousness for what felt like forever, though it couldn't have been more than a day. Every time I opened my eyes, they hushed me before I could speak and encouraged me to either drink a healthy amount of water or have a small nibble of some light food. My muddled mind would consider asking them questions or telling them about me, but soon, the cheese, bread, and water would make me sleepy again, and I would nod off in a matter of seconds. I remembered Mabel easing my limp body out of my dirty men's clothing and into a soft night dress. I couldn't help her at all with my muscles weak and sore, but I did sigh in contentment once the smooth fabric surrounded my body and I was left to rest once more.
Every now and then, I would wake up startled and upset, but Andrew would place a kind hand on my shoulder and guide me back down to the softness of the couch. I would be so comforted by his easygoing expression and kind eyes that I would fall back asleep with little hesitation.
I gradually felt more and more alive, and after a lengthy period of time, almost a full day, I was sitting up on the couch, thanking Andrew and Mabel for all of their unconditional kindness. I still felt groggy and sore, like I could sleep for another day, but much better than a few hours ago.
“Mabel,” Andrew said once our conversation had slowed. There was a tightness to his voice that caused both me and his sister to perk up, “would you mind running into the village and buying a new dress for our guest?”
“Oh, no. I absolutely could not ask that of you. I have become such a burden and you have already been so kind to me,” I argued.
“I insist,” Andrew replied. There was a smile on his face, but his words were oddly sharp, leaving no room for disagreement. The slight shift in mood bothered me, but I decided to let it go for now.
“Very well then,” I complied. I suppose I couldn't spend the rest of my days in filthy men's trousers and a torn shirt.
Mabel left us, always so eager to follow her brother's commands. Sometimes, when I watched them and witnessed their dynamic bond, I would feel my heart ache. I had not been given a loving brother or sister, and though I wasn't jealous, I was saddened by the gap it left in my life. I had no one to lean on the way Andrew did, and I had no one to guide me like Mabel did.
But the moment the front door shut behind Mabel, I didn't see the loving brother before me anymore. And I certainly didn’t see my noble savior. His blue eyes turned icy. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, and his brow was furrowed.
“You have some explaining to do,” Andrew said, his voice dark and cruel.
“Yes, of course. I was meeting a friend—” I rambled, shaking my head.
“About this,” Andrew interjected.
And with a loud clang, the silver dagger Ella had given me before I departed clattered onto the table. I could only stare at the intricate silver weapon for a moment, dumbstruck. I had forgotten all about the knife. It had stayed in my saddlebag for the majority of the night I had been travelling, but I slipped it into a sheath and tucked it under the waistband of my pants when I got frightened. I hadn’t spared it another thought since. Mabel must've found it when she changed my clothes.
“It's a family heirloom,” I lied.
“Interesting family heirloom,” Andrew mused, moving closer to me. Those blue eyes were as piercing as ever. The battle was not finished yet.
“It's a dagger. It's hardly interesting,” I scoffed. I tried to play it down, but my heart was beginning to pound harder in my chest. I was reminded once again that I was alone and entirely at someone else’s mercy. I was no queen here; I had no power to demand anything, not even respect.
Andrew's hand reached out at an instant, swatting my blonde hair away from my neck. The movement was so aggressive and sudden that I gasped and leapt backwards on the couch. But then I realized that my bare neck was exposed, and my hands flew upwards, clasping themselves over the wretched scar that laced my skin. Ella warned me to keep it covered, but, in my illness, I had been more concerned with other things, and now it was too late.
“A silver dagger is a very interesting tool for a mated woman to have,” Andrew snapped. “Now you will tell me what is going on or I will turn you in to the city guards before Mabel returns.”
Andrew was a large man with broad shoulders, muscular legs, and thick arms. But when I looked at him—truly looked at him—I saw that he wasn't angry with me. He was scared he had brought someone dangerous into his home and around his sister. He wasn't violent and vengeful like my husband or fiercely loyal to a fault like James. He was just a terrified human like I had been.
“My husband is a werewolf,” I confessed. The words tumbled out shamelessly, but it still stung to think about and it scalded my tongue to say it.
Andrew's expression shifted to one of confusion then one of fear in the span of a few seconds.
“You have to leave. Now,” he ordered. His voice was stone-cold. “I will not have a werewolf come and destroy my home just for some stranger.”
“Please. You don't understand. My hus
band . . . he was going to kill me,” I begged, looking up at him in dismay. “I have nowhere else to go, and he will not come looking for me. He hates me. He wanted to dispose of me himself, but I couldn't bear the thought of it.”
“You're lying. This is what you creatures do, isn't it?”
“I'm not one of them. Why on earth would I be carrying a dagger that could kill me?” I demanded, feeling tears well in my eyes.
Andrew said nothing, knowing I was right but not fully convinced yet. His body language was pensive and tense, his eyes flitting between me and the dagger.
“Please, let me explain everything to you,” I insisted. “I was a slave.”
Confession after confession poured out of my mouth. Sometimes, I winced at the words I said, but I always pressed on and somehow managed not to cry. I tried to be as honest as I could with this man. He had opened up his home to me when I was in need; I felt it was only right to pay him back with honesty—no matter how painful. However, I did leave out the fact that I was mated and married to the king. Archer was all powerful. A damaged home would be the least of Andrew’s worries if my husband ever found out I was here. I could picture the fear and the outrage that would cloud Andrew’s face if I told him too much. In a matter of minutes, I would be back out on the streets, fending for myself. Or worse, he would pass on a message to the king who would inevitably seek me out. God only knows what would happen to me then.
“Willow,” Andrew managed when I had finished my long and gruesome tale. “I-I don't know what to say.”
“It's alright. I'm safe now, away from that awful man. I just wanted you to understand why I'm like this—why I'm in this position.”
“You must stay here. I know that it's not ideal, but my sister and I are quite comfortable. We could help you start a new life on your own,” he offered. His sudden generosity surprised me.
“That's terribly kind of you,” I whispered, “but my friend, Ella . . . she said we should get a move on, further away from the pala-place my husband is currently in.”
“Very well, but you will stay here until Ella finds you,” he said. He forced a nervous smile and squeezed my hand. “I want to make sure you're safe until you absolutely have to leave.”
And, for the first time in months, I felt like things would begin to get better.
***
Four days passed quickly. Andrew would spend his day making shoes with the help of Mabel. They had to provide for themselves since their parents had died from some awful disease, but they both took up their father's trade and seemed to be doing quite well for themselves, in addition to actually enjoying the work and the time together.
My days were spent in the town square. I milled around as I looked for Ella. It was where we had agreed to meet, and every day, I hoped that she would be there and would be delighted to see me safe and sound. She would dismount from her horse and hug me tightly, telling me that she was so worried about me or that she had an awful journey. And every night, I went home disappointed and more anxious. What if something happened to her? Or what if she thought something happened to me? Had she progressed on to the next city? Or had she given up or gotten lost? Was she being attacked by terrible men while I was an awful human being for not looking more intently for her?
Andrew would always soothe these harsh thoughts away with a cup of tea and a listening ear. And when Mabel came down, we would both talk to her about her day. She was always so bubbly and kind. Between the two of them, I was beginning to feel more and more at home.
I spent the evenings playing easy card games with Andrew after his sister went to bed. Almost every night, he would gently reach out and place his hand on top of mine or squeeze my knee under the table. They were small gestures, but I was intensely aware of them, not knowing if they were simply reassurances or something more. Still, I slept alone in the guest bedroom they had upstairs, often feeling lonely.
On the fifth night, I felt weak and so apprehensive that I was making myself sick. I stood on the hard cobblestones, my feet and back aching from walking and standing all day, but I refused to move from that spot. I just kept looking around, hoping I would see Ella's fluid movements out of the corner of my eye or take notice of a beautiful horse galloping into the heart of the village. I wanted so badly to know that she was safe and that she had a plan despite the fact that we had lost much time and a very expensive horse along the way. I just needed to know that I would be okay and she would be okay too.
An arm slid around my shoulders, but I knew from the strength of the hold that it was not the sweet, dainty Ella that I was hoping for. Nonetheless, I leaned my head against Andrew's strong chest and let out a sad small sigh.
“She isn't going to come, Willow,” he reasoned. His voice was kind and reassuring, something Archer had never been with me.
“You don't know that.” But my words were weak.
“Yes, I do. And you do too,” he murmured, his lips pressed against my hair. “Come on, let's go home.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The following three months I had with Andrew and Mabel were nearly the best months of my life. I found a job for myself on a small farm as I didn't think it was right for me to live in a if I wasn't contributing. The work was easy considering that I had done the same things in shackles for free, and I felt useful doing it and getting paid for my own accomplishments.
And when I had free time, I would offer my services to the local dressmaker because it was a shame to waste the skill I had developed while in the palace. I also got to listen in on some village gossip this way. At this point, it was mostly about the king's missing wife. They had figured out the general description of the missing queen, but no one ever cast their attention onto me. They mostly just commented on how tragic it was and hoped that the poor girl was still alive. Thankfully, no one spoke to me about it because I wasn’t sure what I would say.
Some women were giddy about the prospect of the king being single once more, others were annoyed with his inability to pick a reliable woman, and a few were concerned about the carnage it could bring. Regardless of their murmurs, I was happy enough to work for my own keep. But the whole façade was exhausting as well. Not only could I never reveal my true identity again, I came home filthy and smelly and fatigued from all the physical and social work. After a quick bath or nap, I would help Mabel prepare dinner, which was far better than the food I ate as a slave but very bland in comparison to the food at the palace. Andrew would finish his work at roughly the time we finished cooking, and we would all sit down in the dining room and discuss our days.
I knew that Andrew was careful about being too affectionate in front of his sister as he was both a father figure and a brother figure to her. But when Mabel disappeared upstairs to go to bed, he would often seek me out. He would talk to me in a gentle low voice as he tenderly stroked my hair or rubbed my arms. His blue eyes would search my body explicitly, but his hands would always remain mannered and collected. It was amazing and confusing to be wanted in such a civil and slow way.
Archer was fast and intense. When he wanted something, he got it without hesitation, and on more than one occasion, his impulsive actions had been a wild aphrodisiac for me. But here was this contradiction who was kind and patient, slow and generous. It was frustrating and relieving all at once. He never pushed me into anything I wasn’t ready for, though at this point, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be ready.
On the other hand, it didn’t feel like I had much of a choice. I had to live a discreet life from now on. I couldn’t provide for myself, and I was getting older every day. If I chose not to be with a man, my only other option would be to become a spinster.
So the idea of Andrew wasn’t all that bad. I knew that he appreciated me. I knew that he was taking care of me as best as he could, and he loved having someone to share his days and his life with. He loved touching me and holding me when no one could see us.
And I loved being secure in his arms. I loved coming home to routine and having so
meone who enjoyed listening to me speak about my dull days. I liked the way we looked together when I noticed our reflection in a shop window. We matched each other perfectly, just like the king and Ella had. His features were strong but conveyed warm emotions, and his blond hair was a few shades darker than mine. His eyes were also much more piercing. He was a figure of stability and comfort in my life that was in shambles. He made me feel like everything was alright and the next day would be manageable as long as he was by my side. The feeling wasn’t intense like it was with Archer; there was no burning desire in my stomach, but it was enough.
Late one evening, we ended up alone in the dining room as we often did, and he gave me a sweet smile. There was something buried under his features, something I couldn’t quite read, and it made me giddy with anticipation.
“Come, let's go for an evening walk,” he suggested.
It was an odd request. We both usually collapsed after a long day of work, only excited for sleep, but I agreed anyway. My heart fluttered at the idea of a romantic moment alone with him. The slight difference in his expression, the nervous way he rubbed the back of his neck, made my heart flutter. After three months of quiet and refined affection, I was more than ready for this walk.
The weather was cold. The season was shifting from summer to fall, and it was happening quickly. Crops were being harvested before the frost moved in and ruined them, and the shops were beginning to display shawls and furs to keep everyone warm. But when I became chilly on our walk, I just pressed myself closer to Andrew who gladly pulled me tighter against him. I smiled lazily up at him as we strolled away from the town and towards the farmers’ fields so we could watch the sun go down. I was beyond tired. There wasn't a part of my body that didn't hurt, but I was content for a few more aches and pains if it meant I could watch the sky change colours with this man and discuss our future.
The First Queen: A Shifter Romance Page 20