Word Count: 2274

~Aesira

The ceremony passes in a blur.

It's not unlike what I expected, and not just because of Maven's oddly detailed orientation from earlier. This pack practices the same religion as back home, so the marriage ceremony hasn't differed in any noticeable way.

Now that the ceremony is over, we have moved to another location for the reception.

And I'm fucking miserable.

I stand at the very corner of the room, watching everyone enjoy my wedding festivities while I sulk. There is not a single person I like here, including those that I know.

It's not as if I'm missing my families presence. I would like my friends to comfort me, maybe, but my family...I wouldn't want them at my real wedding, let alone this one.

This isn't real.

I draw in a shallow breath. I'll marry Lincoln one day, and this nightmare will be behind me. I haven't even seen my husband since the ceremony, which for some reason, has really ruffled my nerves.

He's off somewhere, while his guests give me a wide berth wherever I go. It's why I've chosen the very corner of the room so I can drink wine from a silver chalice and try to catch any valuable chatter.

I've honed in on a couple talking about their daughter left back home, when a female pauses in front of me.

I bristle, taking her in.

She's tall and slender, looking down her nose at me. Her fawn coloured hair is pulled so rigidly back, it's morphing her face, tugging at her brows and eyes. At least her dress is a beautiful shade of lilac, but her gaudy jewellery clashes with the tiny gemstones adorning the bodice.

"I never expected an Ashwood to ever step foot in this pack not leading an army to kill us all," she muses, as if she's talking to everyone else in the room, despite no one being that near.

I raise my chalice a touch, like I'm making a pledge. "Don't speak too soon."

Once her Alpha is killed tonight, my father will prepare his army and send them across the border. The messy struggle for power will weaken this otherwise strong pack, and he will be able to claim victory with ease.

And I will be reunited with Lincoln as we make out great escape for the other end of the land.

"I trust my Alpha's judgment. I doubt he would invite a predator into his home if he didn't know how to wrangle it." She purses her lips, looking over me disapprovingly.

"If I am a predator, than you are my pray." I drain the rest of the wine in my chalice. "Now get lost. You're spoiling my sullen drinking time."

She doesn't move, much to my chagrin. She folds her arms, tapping her nails that have been sharped to points against her arms.

"Your father is scum."

I shrug with one shoulder. "For you to turn out this way, I imagine yours is too."

Her narrow brows bury together. I wouldn't be surprised if she slapped me. I wouldn't complain if she did, as I have a lot of unleashed energy stored up, and hitting her back would be cathartic.

"The pain that this pack has seen because of—"

"I am not my father," I state sharply.

She steps forward, drowning me in her exaggerated patchouli perfume. She's brave, getting so close to me. Especially when this chalice feels weighty in my hand, and I'm considering the ramifications of sending it into the side of her head.

"No." Her voice drops low, seething. "You went from one Alpha's puppet to another Alpha's plaything."

I scoff. "Who even are you?"

"Someone important to your husband. I wouldn't get used to hearing him referred to as that." She laughs, although it sounds forced. "Most of us are taking this to be your wake."

I sigh, suddenly feeling constricted in this dress. I shouldn't let her get to me, get into my head. She wants everyone here to see me crumple, to see the cracks break in my façade. If I allow that to happen, they will all turn on me, and Everin will stand by and enjoy every moment of it.

"Go away. You're boring me," I mutter with a distinctly unbothered wave of my hand.

"He's going to kill you eventually, you know. He'll come to his senses." She grins wryly, letting her gaze peruse down me again.

I suddenly see Everin over her shoulder before he speaks.

"Are you questioning my decisions, Farah?"

She whirls around so quickly she almost spills her drink. I raise a curious brow, watching her posture coil and her body become rigid as she submits in the presence of the powerful male.

"Of course not, sir." She bows her head. "My family and I have great respect for you."

I roll my eyes, leaning over to the table next to me, swapping my empty chalice for another full one. This will only be my second helping. I have plenty of catching up to do if I want to blot away the memory of this cursed night.

That is, if Everin doesn't mark me, which is becoming increasingly more possible.

"And now you shall also have that respect for Aesira, while she is alive and carrying my name." He speaks with true, unwavering authority. Exactly like the Alpha he is.

"Our concern comes from a place of respect," Farrah insists. Her voice is shaking. "We do not wish for the Alpha's bloodline to be tainted by heirs with half Ashwood blood."

The cruel, lethal expression carving into his face doesn't waver. He's angry at her, but surely not because of her insult against me...

"Your concern is not warranted." He looks pointedly at the exit, then back at her. "Leave."

Her lips part. "But the celebrations have just begun?"

"Leave."

People around us are watching this interaction unfold, whispering between each other. Farrah clearly notices, her cheeks tinted so red she looks like she might cry. Everin is publicly embarrassing her, and I'm enjoying it immensely.

"Of course, sir."

She bows her head, not giving me another look as she melts back into the crowd. I can't help but wonder if she's actually going to leave, or if she's sulked off into the shadows to watch bitterly.

"How heroic of you," I muse sardonically, raising my chalice before taking a drink.

"I did that for my sake, not yours."

I sigh, looking over him.

His wedding attire is shockingly beautiful. I didn't get much of a look at it while the ceremony was unfolding - I was too focused on not throwing up at his feet. He wears a dark tunic beneath a magnificent crimson coat. It drapes over his shoulders magically, adorned with silver trimmings and filigree that has some cultural significance here.

His eyes dip to my hand. Before I can react, he reaches out and plucks the chalice straight from it.

"Don't drink anymore. You need clear faculties for tonight." He drains whatever is left in the chalice before handing it back to me.

I stare into it blankly, then back at him. The audacity of this male is unmatched.

"How else am I supposed to get through this? I was hoping to have all memory lost by morning," I snap, my fingers digging into the handle so tightly, I can feel it leaving a mark.

He can drink, but I'm forbidden to? I suppose the amount of alcohol needed to intoxicate an Alpha would be incredibly great. Alpha's are bred against being influenced by anything other than their own will.

He looks to a guard a few feet away. "Anthony, keep any alcohol out of her hands tonight."

He bows his head. "Yes sir."

I gape as Everin turns, stalking back into the crowd as if we never had the conversation.

"Kill me," I mutter under my breath.

Anthony gives me a hard look. I could attempt to thwart Everin's command and go for the drink anyway, but I don't really feel like making a scene.

Actually, maybe I do, but in another way entirely.

"You know what, you asked for it," I mumble under my breath, spying my victim standing on the other side of the room, filling her drink.

People scatter as I walk through them. They act as though to touch my Ashwood skin is to melt into a puddle of expensive fabric and glittering shoes. I don't mind their avoidance. I don't want to touch them either.

Tarnia looks up as I approach her, stiffening.

The fact that she's even at this wedding is a disgrace. Everin should have known the risk.

She looks different since I last saw her. She always wore her hair down and long. It used to reach her backside in long, inky black waves, but now, it's cut to her collarbones. Her shoulders lean forward a little, when they used to be straight and poised. She's also lost a bit of weight, having become slight and gaunt looking.

She's still ethereally beautiful. I used to admire the gentle sweeping features of her face, her heart-shaped lips and round blue eyes. She has them still, but there is something sharper about them now.

The difference between now and when she was a priestess, is that I now hate every conceivable thing about her.

She doesn't rush off as I approach. In fact, she holds my stare, her lips pressed together. She looks more youthful out of her ivory robes, wearing a pretty pink dress that shows more of her skin than I have ever seen before.

"Remember me?" I stand next to her, feeling her stiffen. "Of course you do."

She swallows, her hands trembling where they hold her chalice.

"I would warn you not to scream but...oh, a shame. You can't anyway." I smile up at her, enjoying the way she flinches.

I don't care if I'm being vicious. My father cut her tongue out only after her deceit led to the deaths of many people, and the apprehension of even more by Everin. Innocent people have lost her lives because of her.

I turn so only she can hear my words. "Now listen here you traitorous fuck, you better stay far away from me, or else your tongue will not be the only thing ripped from your body."

Her eyes narrow into slits.

"When word first arrived that my father removed your tongue for insurrection, I protested. I thought it was too cruel of a punishment for betrayal," I exclaim lowly. "He said the punishment befit the crime."

She looks out over the dance floor, probably searching for Everin's aid. He's vanished, so she won't have much luck.

"My father is a cruel, vicious man. If it would not have affected his reputation, he would have removed my tongue the moment I learnt to talk," I admit. "But he opted for more concealed punishments."

She frowns as she looks at me, searching my visible skin for evidence of punishment. Unless she removes my dress and looks at my back, she won't see a thing.

"My personal favourite was when he leant my back against fire when he found out his personal guard took my virginity." I shake my head, still feeling the phantom heat against my skin. "I was in agony for weeks, and received no medical attention. The guard, however, received no punishment. He was stationed elsewhere, but I often found ways to get to him."

Lincoln, my love. It wasn't his fault my father decided not to punish him. I have never taken my hurt feelings out on him.

"You might remember him. His name was Lincoln."

Her eyes widen with alarm, the colour draining from her face. She knows exactly who I am referring to, and why I care for his existence.

"Oh yes, ring a bell?" He used to be her personal guard. It was she he was to guard after he was caught in bed with me. "I loved him, you know. Still do. And now he's to be executed by hanging in the coming months."

She looks to her feet. I can't tell if that's guilt on her face. She only looks afraid.

"It's because of you, that he is gone. You told Everin's forces that he would be near the border, told them he would be unarmed. He's to die, because of you." It's a fight to keep my voice from raising. It's strained with hurt.

Her eyes shimmer with what may well be tears.

"His brother loves him more than me. A brother who was orphaned after his mother died from the grief of losing her son."

Poor Lennox. He's completely alone, left to pick up the ruined pieces of his life.

"Count your fucking days." I tell her, ire poisoning my tone. "And stay out of my husbands bed."

I turn before I can see her expression, stalking off. I've said what I needed to say, and I feel better for it. Let her stew over the damage she's caused, if she even cares.

I bump into Maven near the refreshment table. She grabs my arm, giving me a long look.

"Aesira, it's time for the ritual."

I swallow, nodding affirmatively. It is time to get into bed with Everin, and seal our marriage.

More importantly, it's time to kill him.

💙••💙

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~Midika 💜🐈‍⬛