2. Death Sentence

The Kingsguards marched into the room moments after the doors opened, their pitch-black armor clanking with each step while the King’s red insignia was proudly engraved upon their chest plate; a half moon half clawed paw print. A few guards immediately split off and separated to each of the columns on either side of the room, while 2 remained at the door and the 2 last ones stopped at the base of the throne. They didn’t speak a single word or command other than a hard, single stomp before twisting into position. King Vaylor and Queen Elmari continued walking up the stairs gracefully, their soft steps barely audible as they climbed.

Queen Elmari was dressed exquisitely as always, her off shoulder, maroon dress almost sparkling with the light shining through the glass ceiling. A clear, shimmery veil trailed behind her that was attached to the silver, ruby embedded crown. Her mane of golden blonde hair was flowing gracefully against her exposed back, and each time I see her I’m in awe.

Holding her dainty hand with his overwhelmingly large, muscular hand was King Vaylor, Alpha of the 4 kingdoms of Thames. I’d never seen him before, as it was forbidden for female servants to ever be in his presence, but I’d never expected him to look as such. His black jacket and white undershirt had their sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his forearms too large to fit underneath without being too tight. His black pants were well fitted at least, with black shoes that seemed like they’d been shined with fresh grease just before his walk to his throne. I couldn’t see his face yet, but he didn’t appear to have brushed his black hair underneath his own much larger silver crown; its scruffiness making his short strands stick up into tiny peaks.

As they reached the Moonstone seat, they let go of each other’s hand and turned around to face the empty room, grabbing hands once more. The Queen’s slim face was stoic, her green eyes staring off into nothingness as the King’s deep brown eyes seemed like a black hole while he scanned us menacingly.

“There’s a traitor amongst us,” he announced in a calm thunderous voice inside the empty room. He startled me into a small hop, but I couldn’t look away. “Come forward willingly and you’ll be spared…. Somewhat,” he continued with a small smirk just as his eyes snapped to me and stopped. He started to rub his stubbly chin like he was deep in thought, his grin fading while his eyes squinted as he studied. I immediately felt like they were digging into my soul, and a shiver shot down my spine as I hastily looked down to my shoes peeking out before closing my eyes once more, silently begging to fly away.

His footsteps started descending the stairs as his Queen sat down. Tap… tap… tap. He wasn’t speaking, and none of the guards or servants were moving, but I was the only one looking away. I took a deep breath. I knew I needed to look if I didn’t want to seem like the guilty one but seeing them together was instilling a paralyzing fear throughout my body. My hair had been exposed, and I wasn’t sure if my dye had spread over it enough yet.

Look up. I started to tell myself silently, pressing my naked lips together tightly. Look up now or you can die! I’m not a traitor, I’ve served them faithfully, but is my white hair enough to be considered as such?

I opened my eyes and looked up, immediately coming face to face with the Queen who had a stare so cold plastered amongst her face that I froze in place. Behind her the King was sitting upon the Moonstone, a curious gaze forming as he watched like it was all just entertainment. I looked back at Elmari. In her decorated hands she carried my sudsy water bucket, and despite the sloshing getting muck onto her, she remained fixed on me, unflinching… unfazed.

She knew. She has to know.

Without a word she dumped the water onto me, my bonnet getting smacked to the floor by the sudden flow of dirty water; my hair falling down my back.

I didn’t need to see my hair to know its true color was now in full view; I only needed to look at my dress and apron that were both now covered in black dye to understand. As tears began to drip from my eyes and fall into the puddle of black water around my feet, I heard a low snarl come from the Queen’s throat.

“Take this mutt to the dungeon. Make sure her head rolls by moonrise,” she commanded with a sinister voice, a gleeful smirk upon her lips. She then twisted away so nonchalantly without looking back at me to go back to her King as every guard immediately charged me. They started grabbing me while I simultaneously began screaming and kicking, flailing my arms as I attempted to fight back. Though it’s all just a feeble attempt at delaying my fate. I’m a powerless mutt against 10 werewolf Kingsguards.

Vaylor only watched on, his thick black brows still curled down, but his gaze almost appeared to soften as if he were getting upset. But how could he be? His own mate, his Queen, was the one that ordered them to seize me like a murderous criminal!

My view of the Royals was quickly cut off as the guards surrounded me, one gripping me so hard on my upper right arm that I felt my bone begin to crunch. Fighting was only getting me hurt and realization hit that I wasn’t getting out of this.

I stopped just to halt the pain, but it didn’t stop his brutality. The guard jerked me sideways so forcibly as he let go, that I shot to the ground with a hard, ground shaking thud, and I felt my right arm immediately snap upon impact. My screams pierced the room like a howl, and I started whimpering as the pain shook every nerve inside my body. Though through my pain I could hear a soft chuckle come from the Queen just as a guard grabbed each arm, ignoring my injury as they started dragging me away.

My fate has been sealed. My hair has finally become my death sentence.