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Isla Doesn't Approve
Last Updated:
2023-11-06 01:30:11
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*Isaac*“How did you get in here?”The young man, no older than myself, rolls his neck as his gaze drops from my face to scan the room. “It’s a strange feeling being on the brink of war, isn’t it? Knowing it’s coming and knowing there’s only so much you can do to prepare.” His eyes meet mine again, cold and stone-gray. I know who he is, but he isn’t what I expected. Young, a somewhat sarcastic tone to his voice, something that makes him sound almost boyish. For a man in control of a mystical army, one that has already flattened several rogue villages and is slowly encroaching on my territory, he seems entirely too… casual. But I can feel the power on him. Not just his wolf, no. Something much darker, colder, something that sucks the light right out of the room. Juxtaposed with my own powers, most of which I still don’t understand, I feel like I’m the only one standing between him and the castle being sucked into a dark abyss. “Alpha King Kane,” I say with deadly malice, my patience
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*Maddy*I wake with a start to my bedroom door opening. After a week spent living in this castle full time, I’m still not used to the maids fluttering in and out and around the castle day in and day out. They move like ghosts most of the time, save for Hannah, who always stops to talk if she has a moment to spare. I roll over and find that the young maid who tends to my room in the early morning–stoking the fire and laying out fresh clothes or dropping off baskets of laundry–is not who's currently shutting the door snuggly behind them. I pull the sheets up to my chest as King Isaac walks into the center of the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his gray sweatpants. A white shirt hugs his torso, showing off every broad muscle of his chest and shoulders. Ruffled from sleep, and looking slightly dazed as if he just woke up, he stares at me for a long time before he finally says something. “Good morning.”“G-good morning,” I stammer, sitting up a bit and letting the sheets fal
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*Maddy*The kitchen is in a state of chaos. I sit in the middle of it, tucked on a barstool at the edge of the marble island in the room’s center. The air is a mix of sugary and savory while the chef and their crew hurry to put together a meal fit for the king… and his parents, who just showed up. Isaac hadn’t even introduced me formally to his mother. Ella had come running down the hallway looking frantic, followed by King Maddox. In a flash of blonde curls, Hannah had practically apparated beside me and swooped me away through a servants’ door just as the voices of the royal family started to rise. Now, I sit in the kitchen where cooking sounds–the banging of pots and pans, the hissing of boiling water–overwhelm any fights taking place in the castle proper. The chef places another plate in front of me, removing the old one. I give her a quick smile that doesn’t reach my eyes as I start picking at chicken salad and crackers. Who am I kidding right now? One look at Isla, once the
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*Maddy*Once a Luna, always a Luna, at least that’s how I perceive the woman sitting across from me in a high back armchair. Soft afternoon sunlight makes her glow a pale gold, an aura nearly the same color as her long, silken blonde hair. Her eyes are exactly like Isaac’s, and it gives me a start to look directly into them. I’m sitting before a goddess–kind and warm–and I am no one, yet I’m taking her place. “Isaac says your parents are no longer alive, but you have a stepmother and stepsister. Will you be inviting them to the wedding, now that we’ve… been given more time?” She blushes a bit, which surprises me. I don’t know what was said before I came into the room, but it’s almost as if she feels guilty for throwing off the rushed order of things. “Oh, them,” I sigh, unable to stop myself. I meet her eyes, blue gems behind gold dusted lashes. “We’re not close.”“How come?”I grit my teeth in an effort to stop myself from speaking before thinking. While my fluency in their languag
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*Maddy*I follow Isaac through the castle. It’s busier than usual–maids fluttering about and weaving in and out of random doors–but Isaac is hyper-focused on something, and I have to refrain from pulling him to a stop to ask where exactly he’s taking me. When he pulls me into his bedroom, I freeze, my heart coming to an abrupt stop. “Why are we–”“Here,” he says with a boyish gleam in his eyes, tossing me a sweater to wear over my sleeveless dress. “I would have taken you to your own room to change, but I didn’t want to get interrupted by Hannah or anyone else.”I gingerly pull my arms through the soft, baby blue material. It’s cashmere, I can tell. My father used to have a sweater just like this one and wore it when the weather had even the slightest hint of a bite in the air. The sweater hangs nearly to my sides but the warmth penetrates my skin within seconds. And seconds is all I have because Isaac clasps his hand around mine and yanks me toward the door, and we’re off at the sp
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*Maddy*I had enough time to go back to my room to change, but once I got there, I was a little lost. Standing in front of the closet looking into the darkened depths which Hannah had filled with clothing in exactly my size, ranging from soft linen and silk lounge wear to the most incredible gowns and dresses I’ve ever seen in my life, I take several minutes to contemplate, wondering what to wear to a family dinner with the royal family. For whatever reason, wearing a gown tonight feels too formal. Much, much too formal. With a sigh, I settle for tailored black slacks and a dark blue cashmere sweater. I pull my hair back into a long ponytail, pinning it away from my face. A smidge of makeup completes the look. I don’t have jewelry. I haven’t ever really worn it. This will have to do.I give myself one last look in the mirror over my vanity and see, for the first time, myself. Not a lowly slave. Not a maid. Not a severely underfed and overworked orphan resigned to a life of lonelines
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*Maddy*I’m not sure what else there is to say between us right now. Everything seems to have been set into motion already–our marriage, his departure to war, the fact I’m being left here to act like a Luna when only weeks ago I was scrubbing floors. Any residual feelings from our intimate moment in the astronomy tower had vanished during the tense family meeting in the sitting room after dinner. The tension in the family is thick, and I feel like I’m in the middle of it. I follow Isaac to his office through the surprisingly quiet house. There are so many people here tucked in the bedrooms and suites, but it feels like we're totally and utterly alone. As he closes his office door behind me, and motions for me to sit on the red leather sofa in front of his desk, I fight the urge to immediately ask the questions burning little holes in my mind. He leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest, looking withdrawn and exhausted. “I’m sorry to have dragged you into all of t
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