Word Count: 2312

~Aesira

I stalk into the library, a goal in mind.

It's silent, the shelves bathed in shadow. The only light comes from a single candle lit on Mason's desk that he isn't even sitting behind.

"Mason? Are you in here?" I call out, my voice weaving in between books and vaulting up toward the ceiling.

The dull thunk of a book dropping, followed by a quiet curse can be heard from deeper in the library. I wander inward, wondering how much trouble I'm going to get myself into today.

The problem is, Everin failed to mark me. I can't rely on the chaos of his death to get Lincoln out of prison. I need a new idea.

Mason appears suddenly with an armful of books, his spectacles sitting haphazardly on his nose.

"Yes I am here." He dumps the books on his desk, making the candlelight gutter. He straightens himself, giving me his full attention. "Hello Aesira. How are you?"

I wave my hand. "I'm just fine."

"Congratulations on your..." He breaks off, reading my expression "Hm, okay, maybe not."

I shrug. "Thanks anyway."

"How did you evening go? Did my information prove helpful?" He looks so hopeful, so willing to help me. It makes me feel a little bad that I intend to exploit his kindness for my own benefit.

Unfortunately, he might be the key to me succeeding in this mission. Ultimately, he is a member of this pack, working directly under the Alpha. I don't want to hurt him specifically, but this has to be done.

"It did." I wander closer. "It would be a wonderful tradition were it not for the male I had to do it with."

How good it felt is still haunting me. I have to remember that it has nothing to do with how I feel about him, and everything to do with the technical element of sex. It won't happen again, so I have nothing to worry about.

"But it was successful, right? If not, I just warn you that—"

I hold up my hand. "It was successful, don't worry."

I really don't feel like going into the details with him. What matters is that our marriage is sealed in every relevant way, giving me more of a footing here while I figure out how to get him to mark me.

"Oh. Great." He scratches below his hair, his face flushing. "Ah, anyway, what brings you here?"

"I have some questions about the prison." It's a risk coming to him like this, but there is some part of him that seems open to entertaining me.

He winces. "I probably shouldn't..."

"Oh come on, he wouldn't know." I drift closer.

I get the feeling that any attempt to seduce him would fall flat. He has too much integrity for that. I'll have to rely on my inherent presumptions about his character.

If that doesn't work, there is always incessant harassment until he relents.

"See, if he did, say, find out, I would lose my job. Or worse." He gestures around his neck, insinuating it would be cut. "If I'm honest, I couldn't take a single hit from Everin. It would probably kill me."

"He wouldn't hit you, he's not my father," I mutter.

Mason and I collectively stiffen. I have no idea why I just said that, but I opened my mouth before I could think.

"Pretend I didn't say that." I grimace.

"Very well." He clears his throat, wanting to melt into the floor. He'll have to wait his turn. "What questions do you have about the prison, specifically?"

If I can commend Mason in anything, it's how swiftly and adeptly he can avert out of an awkward conversation.

"Are they ever out of the main facility?"

He sighs, glancing behind me. "Come with me."

I follow him through the shelves. It gets darker the more we walk, and stuffier. It smells so heavily of books and dust mites back here. It's oddly comforting.

We pause behind a particularly large shelf, shadows pooling around us. The silence is dense here, the books the only witnesses to this forbidden conversation.

"I'll answer three questions from you in exchange for me asking three questions," he says in a hushed tone.

I eye him warily. "What could you possibly want to know?"

I'm still uncertain of whether Mason is a spy for Everin, if this entire conversation will be reported back to the Alpha. I'll gauge my level of trust in him based on how he answers, and I'll ensure I don't give him any valuable information.

"I have my own curiosities about your pack," he muses.

"Did Everin set you up to this?"

"No! I wouldn't...I'm not his messenger, I just sort his books." He gestures blindly around us. "I wouldn't ask anything compromising. I simply want to expand my knowledge. I mean, I never thought I would meet a real member of your home pack, let alone an Ashwood."

I sigh. Unfortunately, I have to trust him. He's a valuable source of information, and he doesn't seem to want me dead like Maven does.

"Fine, you start by answering my first question."

He leans against a stack of books shoved tightly into a shelf. "Yes, certain prisoners are allowed to work manual labour jobs for prison credit at the wardens personal residence."

It takes all my effort not to grin manically. That was what I was hoping for. I know I would never have the power to get into that prison unless it was in turmoil. If I can wait until Lincoln is out of the facility, I could make my move.

"Even those on-"

"Hey, my turn," he cuts in.

"Fine, go." I wave my hand, exasperated.

"What is your sister, the heir truly like?"

There's enough genuine curiosity in his eyes that I actually consider being truthful. As long as I don't reveal anything compromising, I should be fine. Plus, I don't feel much loyalty to my sister.

"Eleanor is...why do you care?"

He shrugs with one shoulder. "I'm curious. Is she as stoic as she's often depicted?"

"Unnervingly so. As children she never smiled at me, not once. She would never play games, and would simply stare while my father...disciplined me." I swallow as his brows furrow. "I could swear that in all those times her husband filled her with heirs, she would have stared blankly at his face, not a single look of pleasure, if she is even capable of feeling it."

Her emptiness was just another way of surviving my father. While I was bitter and reactionary, she was cool and indifferent. I just wish, just once, that she would have confided in me.

Mason adjusts his glasses. "You two are clearly opposites."

"Oh yeah." I rest my head against the shelf, feeling the spines of a stack of cloth bound books. "Would the warden allow a death row prisoner to work at his residence?"

"Those are his favourites."

I swallow my grin. Perfect.

"I would figure they are more difficult to control. Nothing to lose," I challenge, inspecting my fingernails indifferently.

"Or, he's bent their will irreparably." He shrugs. "Plus the conditions may not be ideal in the death row area of the prison. Perhaps working at a manor is a pleasant escape."

Or maybe the warden uses back-breaking physical labour to ensure submission. He probably gets sick enjoyment out of it. I keep that to myself, though.

"Okay, ask your next question," I encourage.

He pauses to think, stroking his jaw.

"Did you ever have another proposal? I know Eleanor's marriage was arranged."

"I had three. One from an Alpha's bastard son out east, and another from a commander general. He was so old." I groan dramatically.

The fact that he was a friend of my fathers only made the engagement more disturbing. He knew me from when I was a young girl, yet somehow felt entitled to my hand. The thought makes me nauseous.

"And the third?"

I realise it's another question, but I let it slide.

"My lover. He proposed very serious one night, after a long bout of love making." I grin as he flushes. "I denied him. I wanted to protect him from my father."

Mason's face falls. It could be dangerous sharing this with him, but I'm not ashamed of my love. Lincoln is important to me - he's a large reason why I'm here. I want to talk about him.

"I'm sorry."

I ignore it. "My final question is, how may someone find out who is going to be at the warden's residence and when?"

He groans, rubbing his face. It disrupts where the glasses rest on his nose, making them haphazard. He corrects their positioning, looking conflicted.

"Shit...goddess spare me." He looks up at the ceiling, like he's asking for forgiveness. "If I tell you, you cannot implicate me-"

"Of course not. Tell me." I actually wouldn't compromise him if I got caught, either. Not when he's being so helpful.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Alpha Everin must sign off on the schedule. It will come across his desk on a Monday evening and will be sent out Tuesday morning."

I cock my head, smiling. I'm not sure when I'll be able to get to it, but once Everin relinquishes some guard control of me, I'll go for it.

"Perfect."

"Please don't ask me for a key," he pleads.

I wave my hand dismissively. "No need, I'm adept at picking locks."

He winces. "Of course you are."

It's not a skill to be scoffed at, either. Lincoln taught me, and more than once I used it to gain access to my fathers office. I read plenty of salacious documents that he would never have shared with me otherwise.

"Final question?" I fold my arms. I always keep my end of a deal.

His eyes narrow. "Why do you want to know this information?"

"You said it was about my home pack. Keep it topical." I smile sardonically, receiving a scathing look from him in return.

It's better for him that he doesn't know, anyway. I'll only wrap him further into my web, dragging him into an endless mess he wouldn't be able to entangle himself from. Plus, I actually kind of like him.

"Okay." He thinks for a moment. "Tell me, when your father said you had to marry Everin, did you ever consider saying no?"

I almost laugh, having to swallow the sound instead.

"One does not say no to my father," I tell him simply.

Not without significant consequences. Thankfully, this one time, I had my own motivations for wanting to complete this mission, and they didn't include Everin.

"Surely whatever he could do to you is not worse than what Everin may." He pinches an arm of his glasses as he adjusts them again.

"That's where you're wrong."

Everin doesn't seem like the torturing type. Sure, he'll kill me, but he won't hurt everyone around me that I care about to get me to do what he wants.

"Aesira?" Everin's voice drifts through the shelves.

Great. I was hoping I wouldn't have to see him until dinner.

Armed with the information I need, I walk out from amongst the shadows and toward the main area, Mason on my heels. Everin stands in the entrance, giving me a long look as I approach him.

"What were you doing?" He looks behind me at the male lingering back.

"Mason here was just recommending some good smut for me to read later," I tell him saccharinely. "You should promote him. He knows his stuff."

A small sound escapes Mason's throat as he looks at me, alarmed.

"Ignore her Mason, it's her perverted, bizarre sense of humour." Everin shakes his head, exasperated with my teasing.

Mason scratches below his ear. "Yes sir."

I fold my arms, facing the male who has only recently become my Alpha. Now that him and I are married, I've become a member of his pack, and I hated it.

"I've come to advise you to pack your bag," he tells me.

My eyes narrow. "Why?"

Is this where he banishes me? Sends me to the far reaches of his pack where I'll have no change of escape?

"We're leaving this evening for a village in neutral territory," he explains. "Your fathers forces are causing issues and we're going to deal with it."

I straighten, intrigued. Neutral territory means a trip to the border.

"What am I going to do?" I ask.

"You're going begin earning your worth as my wife." His smile is sinister. "We'll see how people in unclaimed territory feel about seeing me with an Ashwood on my arm."

My anger flares. "Pig."

Attending to a political obligation as his possession isn't appealing in the slightest, but it is not as if I can say no. He's making use of me, but what happens after that? Will he have used up my worth to then discard of me?

He reaches behind him into the back pocket of his pants. He produces my panties, pale white and lacy, that I was wearing the night of our wedding. I vaguely remember yanking them off before I climbed back onto him.

"You might want to pack these as well." He inspects them with a faint smile. "You left them on my bedroom floor."

I step forward. "I'm going to kill you."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" He shrugs, flicking my panties toward me, forcing me to reach out to catch them.

I scowl, contemplating his death as he walks away.

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