5. Cassie

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cesar grumbled, shutting the door behind me.

“Don’t start, please,” I grumble, lying down on my bed, covering my face with my hands. “I don’t know why I let that happen.”

My room was a sad affair. I was only allowed books and black clothes, curtains and bedding. Elle had insisted on my living space being appropriately somber. Morgue-chic I had once described it.

“I’ll be the one getting shit for you being on the stairs. I’ll get absolutely crucified by Luna Elle,” Cesar continued, keeping his voice low and level.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d spot me.”

“You tell me all the time you’re not an idiot. Then you get caught watching on the stairs, honestly,” he sighs.

“I’ve done it before.” Not at first, I spent the first year in complete bed-ridden denial and misery.

“I don’t want to know Cassie,” he groaned. “I seriously don’t. Did I honestly hear you call him a vulture? That atrium just amplifies every sound. There won’t be a servant in here who hasn’t heard or had repeated every insane thing you said.”

“They were true though.”

“I’m not talking to you when you’re like this,” he huffed.

“What? When I’m right?” I snap back and am punished with his honey-scented silence. The air turned thick, heavy with the stultifying boredom and unchanging misery. So many repeated conversation. The rug wearing the signs of wear from Cesar’s thick leather boots. The same view, the same outcome. Every single day.

So no wonder I didn’t handle Ayr properly. I’m out of practice being human.

Cesar scoffs, but since I made my silent vow to overcome Elle one day, I’ve lingered on that staircase whenever I can. Because I never got caught before Cesar has turned an occasional blind eye.

Not now, the door will be firmly slammed shut on such ideas. I’ve overheard many random conversations between Elle and the Elders. Or her jewelers, dressmakers, general servants.

All of whom she speaks to like shit apart from Elder Brent. Which only cements my belief they have some kind of twisted partnership.

I got to hear my mother flirting with Cesar once or twice too, running a finger up his arm and suggesting he might like to keep her company. Three years of listening, I’ve run out Beta’s she hasn’t tried that line with now.

It still hurts to hear the servants talk about me. All those Beta’s and unranked shifters finding their little private corners and whispering how I should be dead. How I should have allowed my father to rule, and waited for my turn. I’m a waste of air. Elle should bring back the belt.

Right now, there are rumors of Luna Elle wanting to sell our reserves of grain and food to the highest bidder instead of giving it to the poor this winter.

The thought of it turned my stomach.

But none of those swirling hits to the stomach compare to how I feel after encountering that arrogant ass of an Alpha.

Blue eyes that cut straight to the core of me. I saw his gaze rake across my face, probably trying to spot the evil, broken part of me. It left me feeling hot, uncomfortably alert like he suddenly flip at any moment.

Elder Brent, of course, was so proud of himself for being the one to notice my defect. He had pointed out my mark resembled a dagger to my poor father. Only he had the foresight to recognise the danger I posed. My hatred of Elle is tied up in knots with my hatred for Brent.

They broke me together. I believe, not that I can prove it, that they worked together that night. He planted the seeds of doubt in my ability to lead by judging my shining silver branding. He knew the script to follow when ensuring my mother stripped me of everything I was born to inherit.

Except I cannot think about his wrinkled, vile little face too much. Because the image of Brent’s face is also tied up with the thwacking, sickening crunch of his wooden staff on my fingers.

I was completely off guard. I could have handled an idiot.

A pompous oaf like Elder Brent. But Ayr, wrapped in chainmail and serious features, he’s so different. Almost too composed, holding everything he can back with his straight spine and perfect manners.

“At least you’re not going to dinner, that would have been fucking awkward,” Cesar sighed, breaking my memory.

I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re just lying. You’d have loved a seat to that show. If only to sit next to the pretty Beta’s.”

“Quiet now psycho,” he replied with a click of his tongue but I knew he was smiling even as I kept my hands clamped over my own face. Cesar still thinks I’m guilty as fuck, but we’ve found a way to make our shared existence bearable.

“Do you think this means I’m not getting an invite to the wedding?” I ask, fighting the urge to smirk. Cesar looks up at me, his jade eyes full of confusion.

“Fuck I thought you were serious then! There is absolutely no way you’ll-”

“Even be alive by then, I know,” I reply grimly. My time is running out. If she’s no longer able to take out her cruelties on me thanks to her newly-wedded bliss, then why am I even being kept alive.

He is one of the few guards allowed to use the grand staircase now. Everyone else outside the family and Elders have a dark carved side-warren, lit only by candlelight to use.

That was one of Elle’s first changes. The magnificent, gleaming white atrium was reserved for the elite. No longer for everyone. A divide in the pack.

“I am sorry if you get in trouble over this though,” I add again. Cesar says nothing and I’m left wondering just how the rest of Alpha Ayr’s trip will go. “It won’t happen again.”

“Thanks a lot,” he grunts, and I heard the familiar sound of him striding across the stone floor, sitting in the window seat and opening a book.

I’m left replaying what I’ve said downstairs. How his eyes barely left mine even as I insulted him.

Maybe this will be the occasion Elle uses to finally justify killing me. Shit.

She surely wouldn't make me attend the wedding?

That would be far too dangerous. Not just for me, but her embarrassment at having the pack baying for my blood. She needs the grandeur. The dramatic white sweeping cliffs, the sea views and golden opulence.

Elle will want to be married dripping in jewels under a banquet of stars and banners.

I had once imagined marrying Dominic. He did give me a ring after all. But now it's pretty tough to picture myself in anything but this shitty black mourning wear now. I can’t even remember how it used to feel being held by him. His kisses haven’t been in my dreams for years.

It annoys me that I haven’t even thought about being kissed for so long, minutes after meeting Ayr it’s where my mind wanders. Foolish thoughts.

The hours pass. I fall asleep in my miserable little room until the early hours when something startles me awake. Cesar’s snoring is the first thing I notice. Sprawled across the window seat, his dark hair is a messy sprawl.

He shouldn’t have stayed here. He has his own room a few doors down. I’m normally locked in.

But not tonight.