12

“What would you like me to put in here?” Leanna finally asks, quietly.

“It’s your room, isn’t it? What are you asking me for?!” I explode, angry beyond my own understanding. Irritation eating at me, I see her wrap the coat around herself even tighter, and I growl, “Go get dressed!”

As she walks past me, I catch that familiar scent of her. For a brief moment, I close my eyes and savor it. When I hear her open the wardrobe, my eyes fly open. I turn my head and see her taking out a gray dress. “What were you thinking when you got those dresses? Not even a commoner would wear such designs.”

“Miss—” My mate falls silent once again.

She looks uncomfortable now, and I demand, “What were you saying?”

“I’ll choose something better next time,” she murmurs.

“Those three dresses in the back, who ordered those?”

“I did.”

“Why the hell did you order the rest that look like such garbage? You are the queen. I expect you to dress like one.” When she doesn’t speak, I ask again, “What were you thinking when you ordered them?”

She lifts her head now, and for the first time, I see a hint of anger in her eyes. “I didn’t order them. The ones I asked for were the latest trends and were meant for everyday wear within the castle.”

“Then why did the designer give you these?!”

The flash of anger, that fire behind those brown eyes intrigues me. So, she does have a spine. She has just been hiding it.

“Why don’t you ask Miss Asher?” Leanna clutches the dress to herself, her jaw set. “She told me I don’t deserve to wear nice things. She called the maids, and together they ordered these clothes. I told her they are not appropriate, but she refused to listen to me. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask the designer. She was here for the whole conversation. Miss Asher told her to use leftover fabric for my dresses. She and the maids even made recommendations. I was told to shut up and know my place. So, I stopped protesting and accepted what was given to me.”

This is the first time I’ve seen her so passionate, so worked up. She looks beautiful. My wolf approves of her anger and rage.

“You do everything Miss Asher tells you to?”

“I do not dare risk offending you, Your Majesty.”

I stare at her. “Stop with the ‘Your Majesty’ crap. Just call me Cedric. We are mates, after all.”

“You are Princess Vivian’s mate.” Leanna straightens up and meets my gaze squarely. “I am her substitute. You told me to always remember that.”

I do vaguely recall saying something like that. But I never expected her to take it so seriously.

Isn’t this what I wanted, though? Why does it bother me so much when she looks at me with those empty eyes?

“This room, these clothes, and you all belong to the princess.” Her voice is clear.

“You are the one who’s my fated mate, not the princess,” I remind her.

Her lips curve in a faint smile. “Your Majesty, you are her mate. I am your prisoner, nothing more.”

Gripping the dress to her chest, she slips off my coat and walks toward the bathroom to change. When she passes me, I see the scars on her back. I stiffen.

Harriet told me about them, but she downplayed their extent. Leanna’s back is a mangled mess. Not one inch of skin has been spared. Her buttocks are the same. I’ve seen similar scarring before. I know the kind of whip used to cause such scars.

“How—Who whipped you?” My wolf is anxious and angry. It’s pacing inside the confines of my mind. If I am right, then these marks are not just scars; they are permanent wounds. In the Eastern Kingdom, prisoners are tortured using a particular whip that has steel barbs on the end of it. Those barbs are coated with the most potent form of wolfsbane. The purpose of that whip is to force the wolfsbane so deep inside the prisoner’s body that it can never be removed. It is an extremely barbaric form of torture that even the North does not practice.

I’ve seen pictures of such wounds. It appears that my mate has been whipped not once but multiple times.

When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Leanna.”

Her body grows rigid when I use her name. She swallows. “Princess Vivian.”

“Why?” My claws are extended and digging into my palm. No matter what crime Leanna committed, it did not warrant such a punishment.

I see her body tremble for a moment before she squares her shoulders, her back still to me. Her voice is low and filled with a bone-deep awareness. “Because I was born with the same face as her.” She lets out a quiet sigh. “Like you and the other inhabitants of this castle, she too believed that I needed to know my place.”

Chapter 5

Leanna Avery

I’m not doing anything, merely existing. But Cedric’s people still feel the need to punish me for even that little.

When I was living in Vivian’s palace, I had no one. There was no expectation of protection because who would protect me? No parents, no one who cared about me. No one who was supposed to care about me.

I thought it was hard. Trying to survive was hard.

But this? The man who is supposed to protect me, treating me like this? It is killing me. My own fated mate despises me and wants me to suffer. Living in this castle, being bullied by my mate’s people, is suffocating. There is no end in sight.

What is one supposed to do when all hope begins to fade away? Harriet is having a healer see me daily. I’m trying to do my duties as a queen. But the farmers look at me with suspicion. The artisans are cautious when I speak to them. My mate’s lover spares no attempt to make my life miserable. The maids who are supposed to look after me pull at my hair, ripping it when they comb it. They deliberately poke hairpins into my scalp. And I can’t do anything to stop them.

I’m supposed to live like this because my mate told me to. I thought I should be grateful that I’m alive, but every day when I wake up, all I feel is despair.

I stare at the sleeping face of the man lying next to me. Why is he here in my bed now? Is this supposed to be some new form of torture?

My wolf has slowly become silent and withdrawn over these last two weeks. The rejection from our mate is killing it. I heard once that if a fated mate rejects you, sometimes the trauma can kill a shifter’s animal. Is that what’s happening? My wolf is all I have. I constantly try to comfort it, but to no avail. I turn onto my other side, feeling my eyes grow wet. How much longer do I have to live? Why doesn’t he just kill me?

He will be free to be with his lover.

And I will just be free.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and two thick tears roll down the side of my face, dampening my pillow.

Suddenly, my mate’s arm reaches out and wraps around my waist. He pulls me into his chest.

I freeze, but when he doesn’t say a word, a strange, comforting rumbling emitting from his throat, I find myself relaxing. His body is warm, and when his leg swings over my hips, I glance over my shoulder to check, unable to help myself. However, he’s asleep. It seems, in his sleep, he wants to hold me.