Chapter 8

“I do not like velvet! Not coconut cake! And I certainly do not like those dull tapestries. They’re boring! Does this goddamn palace not have any exciting art?”

Sandra’s shrill voice lashed through the grand hall, dripping with entitled aggression as she tore into the palace maids. They had been carefully decorating for the customary soiree—a celebration where noble werewolves who had recently bonded with their mates gathered for honor and festivity.

“My lady, these are the traditional decorations,” one of the maids explained timidly, bowing low. “They are tapestries of His Majesty, the late Alpha King, and Her Majesty, the Luna Queen. We cannot discard them. Perhaps we could change other elements of the décor, if you wish—”

The words had barely left her lips before a sharp crack echoed across the hall. Sandra’s hand struck her cheek hard, leaving the maid’s head snapping sideways.

“How dare you question me?!” Sandra snarled, her lips curling with disgust. “Do as I say. Spare me your pathetic excuses!”

She stood there, reveling in her own cruelty, towering above them as though she were a goddess among insects.

The maid winced, clutching her cheek, but still stood firm. “Then punish me instead. I cannot dare defy the honor of the late King and Queen.”

Sandra’s brows knotted. Revulsion and fury twisted her face. She seized the maid by the hair, wrenching it savagely until the woman screamed, her cries echoing through the chamber. The other maids froze in horror, helpless as their colleague writhed in pain.

“Do as I say!” Sandra’s voice thundered.

“I—I will obey!” the maid gasped, breaking under the agony.

“Good. By the time I return, everything will be to my taste—or every one of you will regret it.” Sandra released her grip with a shove. The maids bowed low, trembling, and chorused in unison:

“Yes, my lady.”

Sandra swept out with her entourage, her heels clicking, her head held arrogantly high.

But just beyond the doorway, whispers pricked her ears.

“I heard His Majesty hasn’t even spent a single night with her,” one voice murmured.

“What a shame,” another snickered. “She’s like a doll—dresses up, eats, sleeps, and lashes out like a starved bitch. That’s all she does.”

Sandra froze mid-step. Her heart thudded violently in her chest. Rage prickled her skin. She edged closer to the door, straining to hear.

“You won’t believe this,” another maid whispered. “Her stepsister—the one she stole the king from—she’s pregnant. How? Isn’t it obvious? The King can only impregnate his true mate under the curse. Yet Consort Sandra isn’t pregnant. But the so-called slave is.”

“You mean to say Sandra isn’t the true mate of Alpha Karl… but her stepsister?”

“I don’t know. Either the escaped slave isn’t really pregnant with the King’s child… or the curse was never real… or—maybe this bitch is barren—”

“Enough!!!”

Sandra’s scream rattled the hall. Her eyes blazed, her hands shook violently, and her veins stood out across her temples.

“You filthy wenches! I will kill you all! I swear it!” She stormed back in, her entourage scrambling to keep pace.

“Get away from me!” she snapped at them, her face contorted with fury.

Moments later she returned, flanked by palace guards. Her voice was venom. “Drag those rats out!”

The guards seized seven maids at once, their pleas echoing. “My lady, please! Forgive us!”

They were bound, dragged across the marble floors, and taken to the correctional ground of the Female Court—a place reserved for the most extreme punishments.

They knelt, terrified, before barrels set over burning fire.

“My lady…” Berra, Sandra’s personal attendant, whispered hesitantly. “This punishment… it is only for spies and traitors. Not even enemies of the throne are treated this cruelly…”

Sandra’s glare cut her off like a knife. “Do you wish to join them? Or perhaps you’d prefer I demote you straight to the faeces pits?”

Berra dropped to her knees instantly, eyes wide with terror. She had spent her whole life climbing from the lowest maid rank to finally reach the Court. She couldn’t lose it all now.

Sandra’s lip curled. “Take her away! This is what happens when anyone dares to defy me!”

The guards seized Berra as she sobbed, begging for mercy.

Sandra’s voice grew sharper, colder. “Throw those wenches into the boiling barrels. Let their screams remind the rest what happens when they mock me.”

The peaceful palace filled with shrieks of agony. Maids cried out in pain, their voices echoing like a chorus of the damned.

But then—

“Bring them out. Now.”

The command came sharp, feminine, and unfamiliar. The room stilled as an older woman strode in, flanked by attendants. She was in her early sixties, but her presence was undeniable—commanding, authoritative. The guards obeyed instantly, pulling the maids from the barrels.

Sandra whirled, her face twisted with rage. “And who the hell are you?”

The woman met her glare with calm disdain. “Ignorant girl. You do not know me? You should spend less time throwing tantrums and more time learning who truly governs this palace.”

Sandra hissed. “Who is this hag? And why does she think she can talk to me like that?”

The woman stood tall. “I am the Head of the Female Court. I have served this palace since I was five years old. I have governed under Luna Queens long before you were even born. And unlike you, child, I understand respect, order, and discipline.”

Sandra barked a laugh. “So what? You’re still a maid. Watch your tongue, or I’ll have you boiled alive in that barrel with the rest!”

The woman’s eyes hardened. “You are only a presumptive consort, Lady Sandra. Not Queen. Not Luna. And until you prove worthy, you are forbidden from wielding the palace guard or issuing orders of punishment. Effective immediately.”

The guards bowed their heads in solemn confirmation.

Sandra’s face flushed crimson. “You dare?! You dare defy me?!” She laughed, high-pitched and furious. “I order this old hag to be thrown into the barrel instead!”

ꁞ ꁞ ꁞ ꁞ

Back at Beta Barbara’s manor, Lois heard the thunder of soldiers’ boots pounding through the floors below. Growls shook the air.

“ANSWER ME!” Beta Barbara roared, his face twisted with impatience.

Her heart raced, sweat dampening her brow. She had no way out, no safe choice. If she left her child behind, she’d never forgive herself. If she surrendered, Karl’s wrath would consume them both.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Yes,” Lois whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. “I… agree to your deal.”

But before the words settled, the door crashed open. A soldier burst in, eyes sharp, armor gleaming. His shout pierced the air.

“Over here!”

Within seconds, more soldiers stormed in behind him.