Alpha's Impostor Bride

Leanna Avery

The sounds of screams and howls from outside the palace make me grip the heavy silk dress even tighter. Fear has frozen me in place, sitting in a room that was never mine, pretending to be the owner of this dress, this room, this palace. The smell of blood is thick in the air.

The war has raged on for days, the Northern Wolf Kingdom showing off its fighting prowess while the Eastern Wolf Kingdom falls. The royals have fled, as have their maids. My eyes dart toward the fireplace, the only exit that can guarantee my safety. But Princess Vivian’s warning is still ringing in my ears. The whole purpose of my existence now is to buy her time to escape.

My head jerks when I hear the shrieks of the servants down the corridor. Trembling, I get to my feet. I’m frightened. I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not right now.

My head turns to the left, and I stare at my reflection in the beautiful mirror where the princess has spent hours admiring herself, hours holding up my bloodied face as she carved it, simply because the Moon Goddess chose to make us so eerily similar. In the Eastern and Northern Kingdoms, Princess Vivian Druke, the only daughter of King Akmar Druke, is said to be the most beautiful female.

This war is of her making because of her arrogance in killing a noble from the North for humiliating her. And I have to pay the price. Shaking, I lift my hand and trace my high cheekbones, plump lips, and brown eyes. Even my long, ebony hair is the same texture as that of the princess. The only thing that differentiates us is her birthmark, the one every royal within the Eastern royal family carries: a tulip-shaped mark on their wrists.

The sounds of the maids crying out as they are cut down in the hallway have me covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut.

I don’t want to die!

I don’t want to die!

The doors of Princess Vivian’s chambers are forced open, and wolves flood the room. Shaking now, I stare at them, terrified.

The one in the lead shifts form, and I make eye contact with him.

I expect to feel even more fear, but as he approaches me, my impending death in his eyes, a strange sensation courses through me—a sense of familiarity, a blinding need. My knees buckle, and he catches me before I can fall to the ground, his arms like steel bands around my thin waist as he holds me against his chest. His amber eyes are fierce and filled with shock.

He holds my gaze.

“Found you,” he whispers.

“Sire—”

“We’re taking Princess Vivian to the North!” the man declares, and my wolf quivers but for the wrong reasons. “We have won the war. The Eastern Kingdom has fallen. And I’ve got my spoils.”

The last part is spoken in a low voice, meant only for my ears, and I know it can’t be a good thing.

The journey to the Northern Wolf Kingdom is rough but fast. I’m bound like the prisoner I am and carried on the leader’s back. The wolves sneer at me, displeased, but I am as helpless as a lamb. They’re not allowed to approach me, and it is their leader who feeds me with his own hands, not that I have much of an appetite. The stress and fear make me throw up my meals, and as a result, I’m greatly weakened by the time we arrive in the North.

It’s cold here.

They’re going to execute me now, aren’t they?

Why didn’t they kill me back home?

Does this man want to murder me in front of everyone? It’s public knowledge that Princess Vivian started the war that led to so many casualties. Do the wolves of the North want her head in return? Unlike the Eastern Kingdom, where the lands are fertile and the economy is booming, the Northern Kingdom is engulfed in harsh winter year round, making it hard for crops to grow and for prey to live. Up here, they don’t take pride in culture and elegance. The wolves of the North are warriors who are considered beasts on the battlefield. Their wealth comes from their mines, which are filled with gold and gems.

“Uneducated animals,” Princess Vivian once maliciously described them. “I would sooner bed a rabid dog than a wolf from the Northern Kingdom.”

Hysterical laughter bubbles within me as I’m dragged into the castle. Animals? She’s the chicken who ran away, leaving me as a decoy. And now I’m going to die in her place while she rebuilds her life with ease.

I rue the day I stepped into her path all those years ago. I was a child, not five years of age, desperate for food. She took one look at me and told her bodyguard to bring me home with her. If I had known the fate that awaited me, I would have slashed my own throat right then and there.

I’m shivering in the cold, surrounded by five men, the chain around my wrists and ankles clunking against the stone floor. The leader is in the front, holding the other end of the chain. I wish he would tell me what he plans to do with me.

We enter a chamber that looks like a dismal version of a throne room. After all the splendor of the palace in the Eastern Kingdom, this place is cold and gloomy, with gray, stone walls that feel like they’re closing in on me. I can’t see a single speck of color.

“Harriet!” the leader suddenly roars.

Harriet? I look around the room. Is she to be my executioner?

A woman appears, wearing a maid’s attire. “Your Majesty?”

Majesty? Shocked, I stare at the leader. Is he really King Cedric Raine? This hulking beast of a man?

He hands the end of my chain to the woman. “Bathe her. She smells.”

The woman’s expression doesn’t flicker. “What about the chains, Sire?”

“They stay on.”

“Very well.” She looks at me now. “Come along, Miss.”

“You don’t have to treat her with dignity. She’s a prisoner, Harriet,” one of the men next to the king says, sneering. “You’re looking at the arrogant Princess Vivian. Give her the treatment she deserves. She’s here to be a slave after—”

A low growl fills the room, and everybody freezes, including the man who was running his mouth. “This woman belongs to me. I won’t tolerate any disrespect directed at what is mine.”

“But, Cedric!” the man who was speaking before protested, his face pale. “You know what her crimes are—”

“Silence!” The king’s tone is cold and filled with finality. “Derrick, go see to our troops. Harriet, do as you’re told. And feed her.”

Harriet holds the end of the chain in her hand but doesn’t tug on it. Instead, she speaks quietly. “Follow me, Miss.”

I’m led out of the throne room into another hallway. The ceilings are high, no windows anywhere. Unlike the Eastern palace, there are no colorful tapestries or portraits. The walls are bare, a dismal gray that makes me shiver. My mind is a tangled web of confusion, my body poised on the edge. I don’t know what is happening.

Princess Vivian told me I would die in her stead, that the Northern wolves would rip me to shreds. I was ordered to endure it. As she left, she hurled one last look at me, telling me she wished it would hurt like hell.

So, why didn’t I run?

Why did I stay in her room?

Had I really begun to see myself through her eyes over the years? As someone so utterly worthless?