Word Count: 1608

~Aesira

I pad barefoot against cool marble, holding my shoes in one hand.

The manor slumbers, and so do its occupants. Dawn's warm light is only just starting to crawl lethargically into the homes spacious corners, a silent warning to me.

I need to make this quick.

My progress is hindered by my inability to find a viable exit. No matter where I wander, it feels as though I'm venturing deeper into an endless maze of useless, half empty rooms and vacant, undressed hallways.

This place is expansive because it can be.

The dark walls and rich furniture is disconcerting. I'm half convinced I'm going to open the wrong door and topple into another dimension.

At least his or his ancestors taste in design is pleasing. The sumptuous choice of decoration, every intricate moulding and hand painted mural is a feast for the eyes.

The less prevalent such articles become, the sooner I realise I'm venturing into the servant quarters at the back of the home.

Some scurry past, paying me no mind as they focus on their morning chores.

That is, until one pauses in my path. It's a pretty, young girl whose uniform is wrinkled, her nails chipped. She drags her gaze over me, a deep scowl materialising on her brow.

To my surprise she leans forward and spits at my feet.

"Ashwood scum," she seethes before shoving past me, knocking me into the wall.

I gasp, watching her stride off.

A cold sense of dread tickles my skin. If I'm not careful I'm going to cross paths with someone who feels disdain as strongly as she did, but with far less to lose in showing it to me.

I turn and track backwards. After some more wandering, I manage to find my way to a side door nestled at the back of a spacious storage room.

Turning the brass doorknob and pushing, I exit the manor through the side door.

I emerge outside with a relieved breath.

Dew quickly slicks my boots as I stalk across the clipped law and toward the edge of the hill. It dips down into yellowy grass meadows and then a distant village. It sits right on the sea, on the mystifying black dunes.

Tucking my fingers beneath the sleeves of my coat to protect them against the chill of the morning air, I seat myself down. There's a hulking fence just down from me, mercifully not perverting the view.

I love how everything yields to the sun as it begins to rise on the horizon.

The last of nights darkness is chased off into dark corners. The watery shades of lavender and gold can't seem to chase off the gloom of the endless sea, though. It rolls and undulates distantly, a deep and terrible blue.

My gaze floats across the plains, landing on the solid building outside of the village. The prison.

My teeth press together as I assess it. From here I can see the barbed fence and the faint smudges of guards patrolling.

My friend is in there. My lover.

Me being here, completing this mission, isn't only due to my father's instruction. Once Everin is dead on our wedding night, I will flee during the commotion to the prison, where I will free him. From there, we will change out identities and make lives for ourselves, inspired by our many late night talks before he was apprehended.

If Everin does not die in time, then I shall free him anyway — whether I can go with him, or not.

I rest back on my hands, watching the sun slowly reach over the horizon, grasping onto the landscape without mercy.

I miss Lincoln. I swore the moment he was taken, I would be the one to free him. He is on death row, to soon be executed. Working quick is the only option, for time is quickly slipping through my fingers.

The bottom curve of the sun is just past the horizon when I head back inside. The manor is cool, the morning rays not yet reaching the dark depths.

I keep a shoulder to the wall as I walk, dipping out of the way of servants until I reach the bottom of the stairs.

Only to see Everin walk toward me from the other direction.

He's wet. I can see splotches of it on his black shirt, which is irritably tight. I can see the strong, defined muscles of his arms, and the black tattoos curving around them.

Even his hair is damp and curled in different places. He scrubs a towel over his head before draping it over his shoulder.

Our eyes lock and he stops, raising his brows.

"Well, running away so soon?"

I figured he would be asleep at this hour. I've been instructed not to leave my room, but I'm not afraid of any punishment he wants to inflict upon me. I'm sure I can take it.

"Nothing to say?" He angles his head. I didn't realise I hadn't talked for a few long moments.

"If I were running away, I would be exiting the building, not re-entering it," I state. "What would be the point, anyway, since my duty is to marry you?"

How far does he suspect I would get? We're not exactly close to the border here, and his guards would turn me right around at the gate if they caught me. They would probably leave me with a few bruises and a broken limb for trying, as well.
 
"Perhaps you are coming to your senses," he murmurs, shadows unspooling across the irritatingly perfect expanse of his face.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not that lucky."

He inspects me with a thorough searching gaze. "Where were you so early this morning?"

I fold my arms. This is the first solitary conversation I've had with him, and I'm already unnerved. I don't like being around him. Not just because he can kill me at any moment, but because I can't hold my tongue when he speaks.

"Where were you?" I cant my head, smiling saccharinely. "Fall into an ill-placed puddle?"

He smirks, corrupting his maliciously dark façade.

All of a sudden, Maven bursts into the hall, her slippered feet scuffing on the hardwood. She's in a dressing gown and her hair is piled in a haphazard knot atop her head.

"Oh Alpha Everin, I'm so sorry." She sounds breathless, anger poisoning her stare as she looks at me. "Where do you think you're going?"

I'm not sure I want to know how she knew I left my room so early. I wouldn't be surprised if she has some kind of two way mirror to admire me while I slept.

"You said I couldn't leave the room until morning. You didn't specify what time of the morning exactly," I remind her.

Everin laughs quietly under his breath. "Excellent."

She reddens, her fingers curling into fists. "Get back upstairs, right now."

I balk. I'm not ready to spend a long day here, tirelessly pacing while I anticipate my nearing nuptials. I'll grow bored and restless, and then I'll do something stupid.

Everin raises his hand before I begin stomping up the stairs. "It is fine, Maven. As Aesira has made clear, she is not going anywhere."

"I don't wish for her to disturb you, Alpha," Maven hastily adds, subtly trying to adjust her wayward hair now that she is in his presence. I don't blame her. I also feel deeply inadequate in every possible way just from being around him.

"I needed to speak with her anyway." He doesn't so much as glance at me. "She begins training this afternoon."

My eyes widen. I wasn't expecting this.

"Training? For what?"
 
"No single person in this pack has more enemies in this moment than you do." He doesn't sound displeased at by that notion. "At every corner people will be wanting you dead, and since I'm not done using my wife for all she is worth, you better learn to protect yourself."

My brows raise. Any information he has sourced on me must be incredibly limited in scope.

"I can protect myself just fine."

"Not without those knives my guards took from your luggage." He smiles as my face drops. "You won't always have a weapon."

I figured his guards would take the knives I left in the front pocket of my luggage. I just hope they didn't notice the dagger stitched into the lining.

Maven shifts from foot to foot. "Alpha, this is not a good—"

"I know what I am doing, Maven." He says it gently, less so like he is commanding her. "Why don't you return to your room and ready yourself for the day? Aesira will do the same."

Maven looks at me so sharply it could cut. "Very well."

She turns on her heel, walking back the way she came. She's going to punish me for this in some passive aggressive way, I'm sure.

"Are you not afraid you'll train me to kill you?" I ask, looking back at Everin.
 
"As I said, I invite you to try." He says it so benevolently, like attempting to take his life would be an honour for me. Little does he know, I won't just be making an attempt.

I will be succeeding.

"Be careful what you wish for, husband."

I feel his gaze on me the entire way back up the stairs to the bedroom.

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~Midika 💜🐈‍⬛