by Kris Black
“From Welby. With whom we have brokered peace.” Belmont said, waving his hand at Calista.
“But will it last when your crown passes on to the lovely Princess Alina? What about when she is the queen?” The Duke took a moment to take another long draw of wine. “She will need a king by her side that ensures her borders are secure. That can draw might and trust from his people.”
“Father.” Felix tried once more, only to have the duke cut him off with a pointed glare.
“I’m sorry,” Alina interrupted at last, finally tired of men talking about her as though she were not sitting right there. “What is it, exactly, that you are suggesting? That I cannot inspire confidence in my people? That I wouldn’t be a capable ruler without a king at my side?”
“Your Highness, with all due respect, the kingdom doesn’t know you yet.”
“They’ll have time to get to know me. The king has many more years left on the throne.” Alina set her utensils down, preparing for war.
The Duke turned away from her as though she were only a small child, warranting only a simple response and no more effort.
“Your Majesty,” he addressed the king. “Surely you see the benefit in betrothing our two children. It would be best for the kingdom. A female heir as queen, a strong male king beside her, beloved of the court and the kingdom.”
Calista slammed her utensils down on the table at last. More than a few people near them stopped their own conversations to turn and look at the now-red-faced queen. “I think that is quite enough, Duke Northurst. To think you would attempt to broker a marriage for your son to a half-breed-”
Belmont stood, his chair pushing back hard. The scrape of the legs on wood echoed throughout the cavernous halls. When the king stood, the rest of the court hastily set down their utensils and stood as well.
“That is quite enough.” He said, staring at the queen. “You’re dismissed.”
“Belmont!” She gasped, looking at the courtiers staring at her. “Your Majesty, please-”
“You’re dismissed, my queen. I will speak to you later.”
Calista clenched her jaw and gathered her skirts in her hands. She shot a deathly glare at Alina before sweeping out of the banquet hall. Alina’s ears burned as heads turned to look at her.
“There’ll be no more talk of betrothals tonight. And if I ever hear anyone referring to my daughter - to your crown princess - as a half-breed your punishment will be swift and unmerciful. Have I made myself understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The crowd murmured. Felix’s head hung low, his chin nearly touching his chest.
Belmont sat as swiftly as he stood. The courtiers quietly returned to their own seats, including Alina, Felix, and the Duke. The room was silent for a pause before low whispers started the crescendo back to the chatter it had been before.
“Well done, Your Majesty.” The duke looked self-righteous. “There’s only one way to deal with women-”
“I suggest you stop talking, Northurst, before I decide that you have outstayed your welcome,” Belmont said tersely, staring down the duke.
The duke, smartly, kept his opinions to himself for the rest of the meal. Alina would have felt smug for having both the duke and the queen put in their places, if not because Felix would no longer meet her eyes.
Alina had been nauseous all day.
Her coronation day was fast approaching and after that, she would venture out and back to Christian. This palace was eerily calm, a stark contrast to Christian’s castle, which would be full of hustle and bustle in anticipation for tonight.
The night of the full moon.
Would Charles survive the shift? How would it affect Christian now that they were mated? Would her absence have a negative effect? Would it even matter?
Alina had someone deliver a message to the king saying she wasn’t well and would be indisposed for the rest of the day. She had informed her guards to let no one pass into her bedroom. Today, of all days, she needed to be alone.
The bond had pulled increasingly tight as the day moved on, like an overstretched elastic ready to snap. It was a miracle Alina managed to keep upright sometimes. She sat on her chaise and attempted to invest herself in one of her books, specifically one on faeries, that she had retrieved from the royal library. She chose one that was particularly antiquated with the hope of a hidden hint or sign that would lead her directly to the Isle of the Fae. It had cut itself off from the rest of the continent and no one could manage to find a way in, but the faerie who had saved her had found a way in and out, so it was possible.
Despite the reading, her muscles remained tense as though they were readying themselves to have her run at any moment. It made it impossible to get comfortable or to concentrate.
As the sun began to set Alina’s heart beat fast within her. Charles would be preparing for his first shift. She was fidgety and more on-edge than ever. Even the ticking of the clock on the mantle seemed louder; like the entire world had decided unanimously to become sonorous. Alina placed a hand on her forehead as a headache began to truly set it. She stood, ready to make her way to her bed to lie down.
Except she didn’t make it to her bed.
The smell of the fire was suddenly a burning forest. The clock a steady hammering of a blacksmith on his anvil. Her eyes focused and unfocused and suddenly she saw every grain of wood on her floor, the floor that was now moving towards her fast. Panting, she fell to her hands and knees. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to control her breathing. Wet globs of tears fell from the sides of her eyes as her lungs heaved.
Her breath caught, eyes fluttered open - lashes heavy with wetness. She winced at the light as it burned through her eyelids and made everything too bright. Alina pushed herself to her feet, she stumbled around the room extinguishing lamps until the room was dim, lit only by the small fire in the fireplace. It was still too bright. She used her hands to cover throbbing eyes, pressing hard for relief for a few moments. When she removed her hands, the world was a different place. Despite the room being almost completely dark, she saw it better than she had in the candlelight or gaslight. It may as well be midday for as clearly as she saw the room before her.
Her nerves jolted like they were on fire, but she was slowly adjusting.
What the hell was happening to her?
That was her last thought before her left leg shot searing pain through her whole body. It felt like someone had walked up to her and smashed her in the knee with brute force using a pickaxe. Then her right arm. Her jaw. Everything. She held in a scream.
She looked down, terrified of what she would see. Terrified to inspect her own body through the scorching pain. There were no limbs breaking and reforming. No cracking of bones. Just pain as though being struck by an invisible phantom over and over.
Another shot of agony tore through her whole body. Unable to even voice a scream, Alina collapsed onto the ground, wishing for the relief of unconsciousness. All the muscles in her body seemed to clench at once and she started to tremor on the floor. She heard her teeth-gnashing in her ears as her jaw clenched and unclenched on its own will. It was a torment she had never experienced in her life.
Another round of excruciating pain tore through her body, causing her to seize.
It was then that she finally succumbed to the darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
An Apple
She hadn’t turned into a wolf.
She was only certain of this because when she roused, still laying on her cold, hard floor, it was almost morning and she had all of her clothes on. She understood enough about the transformation to know it destroyed any manner of clothing someone was wearing. Nevertheless, she ached like she had every bone in her body broken and re-broken during the night. Her muscles strained with the effort of pulling herself up. Not trusting her own balance, she used the chair beside her to help herself up. Gingerly, she limped forward before collapsing onto her bed, panting with the effort. She pulled herself up, only to splay her b
ody on the comfortable mattress.
Was this what Christian felt like after his transformations? Was he this sore and exhausted? How had he managed it for all these years?
The cook had sent her up some herbal tea this morning to help soothe any lingering pain from her headache the day before. Alina barely had enough energy to wave to the kitchen girl to ask her to leave it at the bedside. It was a warm, soothing tea that burned on the way down. It was enough to help lessen the aches from the previous night, but not erase the remnants of it.
Had Charles survived the transformation?
Alina’s mind was full of questions, badgering her like bees around a hive whizzing in and out of her head before she had even the time to process them. Last night was terrifying, excruciating and had never happened before to her. Was it because of the bond? Why now, and not when she had been with Christian at the castle? Was it because she was too far? Had something happened?
If Elizabeth were here, she would have the answers for her, surely.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth was still on Christian’s cursed lands and had been, herself, a wolf the night prior. Was she still recovering from the pain of it? Did the curse help protect them from the lingering effects, like it blocked their minds from the pain of transformation?
Alina spent the morning mowing over the previous night. Any time she thought she solved something, another problem presented itself. She was overwhelmingly frustrated and exhausted.
The maids roused her from her bed rest just before noon to get her ready for dinner with her family, if she were well enough. One that she had planned nearly a week ago when she sent George a note after insisting that they all meet up. She didn’t want to cause a stir among the castle by being laid up too long - Ella had already informed her about how much the nobility liked to gossip. So, she requested another herbal tea from the kitchens and allowed the maids to help her get ready.
As Alina sat, her limbs throbbed as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. She wondered why she hadn’t canceled her family dinner. Idle prattle from gossip-mongers wasn’t worth collapsing in front of the Everstons for.
Perhaps she should have visited the greenhouse before attempting this.
Her brothers were seated. They had set up a game of cards, which she had declined a hand of. She could barely stay awake, let alone focus on a game of chance against Elliot - who was surprisingly adept at it.
Emma and Kitty came together, a rare occasion to see one or both of them not teetering along after Abigail. She supposed, for the first time, that perhaps Abigail had been a mother-figure to them. They were always on her skirts, following her like ducklings. She had never been as ruthless with them as she had Alina. She coddled and fawned over Emma and Kitty and yet showed nothing but contempt for Alina.
Abigail was the last to arrive, carrying a basket of apples held under her arm.
“I brought a snack for after dinner,” she offered as she placed the woven basket on the table beside the cured meats.
The cooks had prepared an informal meal of mostly finger-food so that the siblings may lounge and eat while they caught up. Cured meats, bread and spreads, cheeses, and pastries filled the table set against the wall, along with Abigail’s apples. Her sisters huddled around the table, filling up a plate. Her brothers were slower to rise, finishing their game first.
“Are you okay, Alina? Do you want anything to eat?” George stopped and asked hushed, noticing she had made no move to get food.
Her stomach was roiling, and she didn’t have enough energy to be hungry. She shook her head. George frowned but patted her shoulder gently as he walked past to help himself.
“You should have seen him,” Emma giggled off to the side at Kitty. “I’m certain he’s interested. Can you imagine it? Me, a Lady?”
“You should aspire higher than that,” Abigail tsked and took a bite of cheese.
Before they had taken Alina to the castle, being a Lady was so far out of reach of her sisters it would have been unfathomable. Now, Abigail lectured her sisters about climbing the court ladder - a baron, an earl, a duke. If Alina had more energy, she might have laughed out loud at the absurdity of it.
It was almost like being home, back at the dilapidated cottage - all of them sitting around each other, gossiping and sharing a meal. Except now, someone other than she prepared the food, with only the finest ingredients found in the land. Instead of mismatched, torn furniture, they sat in plush embroidered couches. It was all the same but all entirely different.
Alina added only a few words of conversation during the evening, mostly letting her brothers and sisters chat amongst themselves. When, finally, they were finishing up their meal Alina released a sigh of relief.
Finally. Finally, she could retreat to her bedroom and collapse into her bed. She was determined that she would sleep for days.
Abigail rose and strode over to the apples, once finishing her meal. She lifted the basket and began her round around the room. Alina squeezed her eyes shut only to find Abigail in front of her when she opened them again. Her other sisters were already taking big bites into the juicy apples. She just had to get through this, then she would be free.
Abigail offered Alina the blood-red apple, new and shiny. Alina, despite being thoroughly exhausted, graciously accepted. It surprised her that her eldest sister did anything for her, even as simple as this. Abigail had always treated Alina as though she didn’t belong, as though she were someone she couldn’t possibly care about. Perhaps it was because she already had so many siblings that she didn’t have enough space to care for another.
Perhaps it was because, deep down, Abigail knew that Alina didn’t truly belong.
It tempted Alina to use her newly found powers on the apple, to speak with it and find out its story - but she resisted. It seemed morbid to commune with the fruit that she was about to ingest. Instead, she brought the apple up to her mouth and took a large bite; the juices dripping down her chin.
“The castle really is marvelous. You’re so lucky, Alina.” Kitty was practically groveling as she took another bite of her own apple.
Alina frowned, and not just at Kitty’s naivety. She itched her chest, just above the neckline. She glanced down, noticing tiny red bumps, almost like bug bites, forming all around her chest. What was happening? They were itchy and turning a bright cherry. She watched as a few more formed.
“I’m not sure I would call what she has gone through lucky,” George replied wryly.
No, Alina didn’t think so either. But when she moved to speak, she found that she couldn’t. She tried again. “Lucky isn’t what I would think of to describe it.” Her voice was hoarse like an old woman’s. Everyone turned to look at her, giving her credence that she sounded as terrible as she thought.
“Are you okay?” Elliot asked. “Alina, you have red spots all over your body!”
Alina readied herself to reply, sucking in a breath only to find she wasn’t able to. She screwed her face up in confusion, bringing a hand up to her throat. Her breath was short, her tongue numb and taking up more space in her mouth than it should. There was no room for air to get through. She tried a breath again, this time through her nose. A little air passed through, but not enough.
It wasn’t enough.
She tried again, attempting to suck in another breath. And again. Each time the amount of oxygen allowed passage was less and less. Her face turned scarlet as her siblings watched her gulp for air like a fish out of water. Her heart began to beat hard in her chest - an asynchronous rhythm that had her worried.
“Oh my God, is she choking?” Emma cried out.
Yes. No. She wasn’t choking, although her tongue was so large it felt as though it took all the space in her mouth now, leaving room for nothing else. She wasn’t choking, but she also wasn’t breathing.
There was no faerie here this time, no Christian. She was about to pass out. Was this really how she would die, with her brothers and sisters looking on in horror as she suffocated?
“Alina!” George jumped in front of her and took her face in his large, strong hands. At the sound of his cry, Thomas and Henry opened the door and barged in, ready to attack anyone who was hurting their princess. Tears leaked out the side of Alina’s eyes and down onto George’s tanned fingers. She wasn’t crying, but her lungs screamed and her eyes watered until they overflowed. “What can I do to help? How can I help you?”
He was frantic and she couldn’t think. He started pounding on her back, trying to dislodge what was in her throat. But there wasn’t anything trapped in her throat. What was happening? There was nothing, there was nothing she could think of that would stop this.
She gasped again.
Henry moved through the Everstons rapidly, pushing George out of the way and looking over the princess. “Thomas, get the king, quickly!”
Thomas raced out of the room and down the hall.
Kitty and Emma were hugging each other, looking on in horror. Elliot had collapsed beside Alina, clasping her hand as George tried to solve the problem, tried to figure out how to save his little sister from something he had never seen before. Abigail was terrified, worrying herself into the back of the room. Her face was ghastly white. Just past her were the few plants that Alina had moved from the greenhouse into her own room, for a bit of green and soil in her room. It had made her bedroom more comfortable, more like a home and safe in her space at the castle. A little part of her mother’s people.
That was it. She was a faerie. She didn’t need normal, mortal healing. She needed to stop thinking like a human and start thinking like the fae. Lumbering up from her seat, she gasped again as she moved towards the plants.
“Your Highness!” Henry moved to catch her arm, but Alina barely dodged it.
George and Elliot released her as she stumbled towards the windowsill she mounted the plants on. Just three simple potted plants. Alina wasn’t even sure they would help her, but it was the only solution she had.