Something Is Wrong

Lyra

Several minutes pass, and the woman hasn’t returned to help me fasten my dress. I sure don’t miss her company, but I feel the cool air on my bare back and hope the Queen Mother doesn’t walk in to see me like this.

There’s a dressing area in the suite, so I figure I can at least do something with my hair in the meantime, sitting on the velvet bench in front of the vanity.

I hardly recognize my reflection when I look up at the mirror. Though clean and wet, tufts of my hair stick up over balls of mats, and my heart sinks. It will take forever to comb these out.

But I have to try. The alternative is having that cold-mannered woman come back and start ripping half of it out of the follicles.

So, I find a brush in a drawer and start working on the ends, gently pulling as I work my way up. It’s a slow process, but it’s working.

I catch sight of my eyes in the mirror. Blotches of bluish-purple form a half-circle underneath them, the skin hollowed out. The whites of my eyes are speckled with tiny red veins, and even the green irises seem faded.

My mother always said she loved my emerald-green eyes. The thought of her births an ache in my heart. She said she would try to visit. Would the Alpha King allow it?

Will I ever see my family again?

But I shake my head. I can’t think about this now, not while Cally is still suffering in the dungeon. I have to make myself presentable for the Queen Mother so I can beg for my maiden’s release.

The door opens, and a cold shudder rushes over me, sending goosebumps prickling over my arms.

“There you are,” the same woman says sharply. “Get up.”

I obey without hesitation and feel her cold fingers fastening the back of my dress.

She sighs, exaggerated frustration biting at her next words. “I suppose we have to deal with this hair. What a disgusting mess! Give me that.”

She reaches around me and grabs the brush out of my hand. Instinctively, I tighten my grasp, but her strength against my weak muscles is no match. I close my eyes, bracing for the pain, and it doesn’t disappoint.

My scalp screams as she yanks on the knots, her long, bony fingers dropping the hair she tears out into the vanity wastebasket. But I don’t scream. I don’t complain.

This woman could turn into a wolf and bite my head off, too.

Besides, I need to be compliant so that the Queen Mother has no reason to refuse my request.

When she’s done, she spins me around harshly. “Ugh, you look awful. I suppose that’s a human trait. I doubt the best makeup in the kingdom can fix that, but I’ll try, nonetheless. Hold still.”

My stomach turns in on itself while she holds my chin roughly as she dusts on powder and blush. I breathe as shallowly as possible so I can avoid moving, closing my eyes when ordered and opening them reluctantly.

When she is finished, I finally let out a breath, relieved for the end of the torture. I turn to the mirror, hitching a breath when I see the impressive results.

Now I look alive, at least, though I still don’t feel like it.

“Good enough,” she snaps, though her tone betrays the words. “Follow me.”

She points to a pair of shoes on the floor, low heels that match the gown, and I slip them on before following her out the door. She walks fast down the massive hallways, each step forceful and calculated. Because she’s taller than me, her stride is so quick I have to practically run to catch up.

But I don’t mind. I need to see the Queen Mother and ask her about Cally, and I’d run to beg for her freedom if I could.

After multiple long hallways and what seems like dozens of twists and turns, we approach another set of double doors. The carvings on these seem to depict women and children, which is fitting for the mother of the king’s chambers.

The woman knocks lightly, and I hear a voice like music from the other side, allowing our entry. I lower my eyes and prepare to show my respect as we enter.

“Esmerelda, my dear,” that same melodic voice chimes out. “It’s lovely to see you.”

I brave a quick gaze toward the woman I’d been following, and my jaw drops involuntarily. She has a name, a lovely one—Esmerelda, and every cell of cold-hearted indifference she’d given me is gone, replaced by a bright smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

But the Queen Mother is clearly not surprised, walking up to her cheerfully. I shift my eyes back down to the floor but catch Esmerelda’s bow and strange movements with her hands, a signal of respect for the wolves, I’m guessing.

“This must be her,” the Queen Mother sings, placing a finger on my chin and forcing my head up. She releases it and smiles when I meet her eyes.

I greet her with a deeply respectful curtsey as I’ve been trained in my Father’s court.

“Oh, how charming.” The Queen Mother claps her hands together. “Humans have such lovely customs. Have a seat, dear.”

She gestures toward a padded lounge chair nearby, but instead, I drop to my knees where I stand. “Your Majesty,” I say, desperation in my voice. “I beg for the release of my lady’s maiden, still held in the dungeon. I fear for her health and wellbeing.”

“Goodness,” the Queen Mother says, lifting a hand to her chest. “Rise, dear. There’s no need for that.” She turns to Esmerelda. “Did they not release her girl?”

“I-I don’t know, Your Majesty,” Esmerelda says, her voice honeyed, with a sharp edge. “I didn’t know of her existence.”

I shoot her a glare. I’ve mentioned my lady’s maid to her several times when she was washing me. Why is she lying?

“Perhaps an oversight on the part of the guards,” the Queen Mother suggests. “Go seek out the Beta and have her release arranged. Take her to the princess’s chambers. She can stay in the servant’s room.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I say, offering another deep curtsey. Despite Esmerelda’s strange behavior, my heart soars at the thought of Cally being set free.

“Right away, Your Majesty.” Esmerelda makes the unfamiliar hand gesture to the queen again and steps out, but not before her eyes graze me, all the softness instantly gone in them.

The look is… evil.

A chill rushes up the back of my neck.

But the Queen Mother is already speaking in her pleasant voice, gesturing toward the chair again. I oblige this time, shaking off the strange encounter with Esmerelda and sitting where she requested.

“I’m terribly sorry about your girl,” she continues. “We’ll have that righted immediately.”

“Thank you.” I give her a genuine smile, and she smiles back.

“Tea, Calendia,” she says louder, and instantly, a servant woman appears, wheeling over a tray that was across the room. “Do you like tea?” the Queen Mother asks me.

“Very much so.” I nod as I answer, still thrilled about the thought of seeing Cally again and having her rested, clean and well-fed, in a proper bed.

Once the tea is poured and small finger breads and pastries offered, the Queen Mother turns to me again. “I’d also like to apologize for your treatment. I hope your time in the dungeon wasn’t too unpleasant.”

Her smile persists, and her tone is light and cheerful, as though months in a dungeon is nothing more than a stint in a slightly sub-standard hotel room.

“With my lady’s maiden’s release, I won’t think of it anymore, Your Majesty,” I tell her.

She smiles and hums to herself as we continue eating, and an uncomfortable silence passes between us, though it seems one-sided. The Queen Mother is perfectly content eating and drinking her tea, almost singing to herself as the moments tick away.

Something is strange about the Queen Mother, and the way Esmerelda acted around her. I hope she obeys the orders regardless.

“Oh, these are so wonderful,” she says, fingering another frosting-covered triangle of pastry. “Mm, once we’re done here, let’s go see my son. Would that be okay?”

The question unbalances me, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. “Yes, that would be nice,” I manage to say politely, my nerves standing at attention.

“Oh, splendid,” she says, pushing away the cart suddenly and standing. “Let’s go now.”

I keep my surprise to myself, nodding. I give a lighter curtsey again and follow her as we exit her chambers. Something is definitely wrong with this woman. She’s nice enough, but she doesn’t seem quite stable.

And I’m about to be face-to-face with the Sea-King Alpha himself.

That steel rock forms in my stomach again, churning against the butterflies.

I don’t think I can do this.