Chapter 9: Caged for the King

(Penny’s POV)

They didn’t leave me alone for long.

After Kael’s dramatic exit, the guards dragged a wooden tub into the hall, right in front of my cage, like I was part of the evening entertainment. Two women followed: older, silent, faces blank as stone. They carried buckets of steaming water, bundles of rough cloth, and a dress that looked like it belonged in a Renaissance fair, deep crimson wool, long sleeves, high neck, embroidered with silver thread at the cuffs and hem.

“Strip,” one of them said. No emotion. Just fact.

I stared at her. “Excuse me?”

The guard outside the bars rattled the lock. “You heard her. Bath. Now. Or we do it for you.”

My skin crawled.

I glanced around the hall. A dozen eyes, guards, servants, a few warriors lounging near the hearth, were already watching. Waiting.

No privacy. No mercy.

I turned my back to them, as much as the bars allowed. My fingers shook so badly I fumbled the zipper on my hoodie twice before it gave. I peeled it off, then the leggings, then the sports bra and underwear. Everything hit the dirt floor in a pathetic pile. Cold air hit my skin like needles.

The women unlocked the cage just enough to pull me out. One grabbed my arms, the other my shoulders. They marched me to the tub like I was a prisoner heading to execution, which, let’s be honest, wasn’t far off.

The water was scalding. I hissed as they forced me in. They didn’t care. Rough cloths scrubbed every inch, neck, arms, back, legs. Soap that smelled like pine and ash burned my scrapes. They washed my hair without asking, pouring buckets over my head until I sputtered.

I kept my eyes squeezed shut. Pretended I was somewhere else. The hospital locker room after a long shift. My shower at home with the lavender body wash. Anywhere but here.

When they were done, they hauled me out, dripping, shivering. Wrapped me in a rough towel that barely covered anything. Then the dress.

It was heavier than it looked. The wool itched against my clean skin. The neckline was modest, but the fit was tight through the waist and hips—someone had clearly measured me while I was unconscious or something equally creepy. They laced it up the back like a corset, pulling until I could barely breathe.

One of them combed my wet hair with brutal efficiency, braiding it into a thick plait that hung down my back. No mirror. I didn’t want one anyway.

They shoved me back into the cage.

The dress pooled around me on the dirt floor like spilled wine.

I sat there, arms wrapped around my knees again, staring at the bars.

Hours dragged.

The hall filled slowly, more warriors, more servants, the smell of roasted meat and ale growing thicker. Laughter. Toasts. Stories of the raid on the other village. How many they’d killed. How many they’d taken.

I tried not to listen.

A tray came through the bars eventually: more bread, a chunk of cheese, a strip of venison. I ate because I had to. Because passing out from hunger wouldn’t help me escape.

Escape.

The word felt laughable now.

I was dressed like a gift. Smelling like soap instead of blood. Locked in iron.

And tomorrow, tonight, maybe, they were taking me to the king.

The hall doors banged open.

Kael strode in, already half-drunk, cloak thrown back, red hair wild. His eyes found me immediately.

He crossed the room in long strides, stopped in front of the cage.

“Stand.”

I didn’t move.

He rattled the bars. “I said stand.”

Slowly, I rose. The dress swished around my ankles. I lifted my chin.

He looked me over, slow, deliberate. Like I was a horse he was considering buying.

“Better,” he said. “Much better.”

He reached through the bars again. This time he caught the end of my braid, tugged lightly. I jerked my head back.

He laughed.

“The king will be pleased,” he said. “A Luna who fights. A Luna who smells of another alpha’s blood. He’ll want to erase that scent himself.”

My stomach heaved.

Kael turned to his men. “Prepare the wagons. We ride at moonrise. The king’s court awaits its new prize.”

Cheers erupted.

Someone started a low, rhythmic chant, something in a language I didn’t know. It sounded like victory. Like ownership.

They left me there while they prepared.

I sank back to the floor, forehead pressed to my knees.

Tears didn’t come this time.

Just cold, hard certainty.

I wasn’t waking up.

This wasn’t a dream that would end when the alarm went off.

This was real.

And tonight, they were carrying me straight into the heart of it.

The cage door opened again near dusk.

Four guards this time. They pulled me out, rebound my wrists with silk cord, prettier than rope, but just as tight. They marched me outside.

Night had fallen. The sky was a deep velvet blue, stars sharp as knife points. A fat moon hung low, almost full. The air smelled of frost and pine and horse sweat.

Three wagons waited: one for supplies, one for warriors, and one, a flatbed with high sides and a canopy of dark cloth, like a mobile prison.

They lifted me onto it like luggage.

I landed hard on my knees. The wood was rough under the thin soles of the slippers they’d forced on my feet.

Kael climbed up after me.

He sat across from me on a pile of furs, elbows on knees, watching.

“You’ll behave,” he said quietly. “Or I’ll have them bind your mouth too. I’d rather not mar that pretty face before the king sees it.”

I stared back. Didn’t speak.

He smiled.

The wagons lurched forward.

Wheels creaked. Horses snorted. The village fell away behind us.

We rolled into the forest.

Moonlight filtered through the trees, painting everything silver.

I kept my eyes on the horizon, on the dark shapes of trees rushing past.

Somewhere out there was the cave.

Somewhere out there was Genesis.

If he’d woken up.

If he’d survived.

If he even cared that the strange human who’d saved him had disappeared.

I closed my eyes.

The wagon rocked.

The wolves howled in the distance, escort, maybe, or scouts.

And under the canopy, Kael watched me like I was already his.

Like I’d never been anything else.