Chapter Five. A Day to the wedding

Jenny’s POV

The palace was so big that I had already gotten lost three times, and the maid assigned to attend to me had to take my hand in hers so I wouldn’t keep wandering around like someone who had never seen a building before.

Which, technically, wasn’t entirely wrong.

I had never been inside a palace before.

“Careful, Luna. The stairs are just ahead.”

I looked down at the stairs, then at the girl holding my hand.

“I can see that.”

She immediately released my hand, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry, Luna.”

I sighed.

“Please, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m not going to bite you.”

She smiled nervously.

“Of course, Luna.”

I was beginning to think that was the only name people in this palace knew how to call me.

My name was Jenny.

Jennifer, if someone was particularly angry with me or wanted to remind me of something unpleasant. I had been Jenny for as long as I could remember, and I wasn’t particularly interested in changing that because a certain Alpha had decided I was going to be his wife.

Speaking of which, where was the man?

I hadn’t seen him since yesterday, and although I couldn’t say I was particularly interested in seeing him, I had a few questions I would have liked answered.

Like why he seemed so certain I would eventually agree to marry him.

And perhaps the most important question of all, why did he think I was going to be comfortable living in a palace where everyone treated me like I was some sort of queen?

I wasn’t.

I was a servant.

I turned my attention back to the palace.

It was beautiful.

That was the only word I could find to describe it.

The walls were painted in warm shades, with beautiful paintings hanging at intervals. Large chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and the polished floors reflected the light coming through the tall windows.

There were flowers everywhere too. Not the artificial kind I had seen in some of the houses back home, but fresh flowers arranged in expensive-looking vases.

I stopped briefly in front of one of the paintings.

It was a portrait of a woman.

She was beautiful, with long dark hair and a rather serious expression.

I wondered who she was.

Perhaps Maurice’s mother?

I moved closer, studying the painting.

“She’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“That is the former Luna,” the maid answered.

I turned to her.

“Former Luna?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

I looked back at the painting.

I was about to ask another question when a familiar voice interrupted me.

“Are you planning to admire every painting in this palace?”

I froze.

Oh, goddess.

I slowly turned around.

Maurice stood a few feet away, dressed in a dark shirt and black trousers. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms, and his hair looked as though he had run his fingers through it several times.

He looked annoyingly good for someone who seemed to have made it his personal mission to ruin my peace.

His eyes moved from me to the painting and back again.

“Or are you planning to have breakfast today?”

I felt heat creep up my cheeks.

I hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Good morning, Alpha.”

“Good morning, Jenny.”

His eyes remained on me for another second before he turned toward the dining room.

“Come.”

I hesitated.

Was that an invitation or an order?

Actually, considering who I was dealing with, there was probably no difference.

I followed him.

The dining room was even more beautiful than the rest of the palace.

A long rectangular table occupied the centre of the room, surrounded by beautifully carved chairs. There were enormous windows on either side, allowing sunlight to flood the room, and another chandelier hung directly above the table.

I stopped at the entrance.

Was this where he ate every morning?

And why did he need a dining table big enough to accommodate an entire village?

“Jenny.”

I looked up.

Maurice was already seated at the head of the table, watching me.

“Come and sit.”

I quickly moved toward the chair closest to him and sat down.

A servant immediately approached with a plate.

I looked at the food.

There was bread, eggs, fruits, some sort of pastry and a glass of juice.

“Eat,” Maurice said.

I picked up my fork.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t respond.

And just like that, silence settled over the room.

It was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

I could feel his presence even without looking at him. Every now and then, I caught myself wondering whether he was watching me, and each time I looked up, I found him either eating or attending to something in front of him.

I concentrated on my food.

I wasn’t particularly hungry anymore, but I continued eating because I didn’t want him to think I was uncomfortable.

I took a sip of my juice.

Then another.

I looked at the food in front of me and wondered whether it was appropriate to ask for more bread.

I decided against it.

The servants standing around the room seemed to have mastered the art of becoming invisible, and Maurice appeared perfectly comfortable with the silence.

I, on the other hand, was beginning to lose my mind.

Was he always this quiet?

Did he expect people to sit around him without saying anything?

Was this some sort of Alpha thing?

I glanced at him.

He was cutting into his food, his expression unreadable.

I quickly looked away.

I was going to need to learn how to live with this man.

And that thought alone was enough to ruin my appetite.

By the time I finished eating, I was more than ready to leave.

I placed my cutlery down and reached for my glass.

Maurice looked up.

“Are you done?”

I nodded.

“Yes, Alpha.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin before setting it aside.

Then he turned toward the maid standing beside my chair.

“Make sure she’s comfortable.”

The girl immediately bowed.

“Yes, my Alpha.”

“And the tailor?”

“She’s already arrived, Alpha. She’s waiting in the west sitting room.”

He nodded.

“Good. Make sure she gets whatever she wants. Whatever she chooses, have it made.”

The maid bowed again.

“Of course, my Alpha.”

I frowned slightly.

The tailor?

What tailor?

I looked between them.

Was I missing something?

Maurice finally turned his attention to me.

“You should hurry up.”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The tailor is waiting.”

I stared at him.

“For what?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Your appointment.”

I looked down at myself, then back at him.

“My appointment?”

“Yes, Jenny.”

I was beginning to feel like everyone in this palace had agreed to communicate with me in riddles.

“What exactly am I having an appointment for?”

He looked at me for a moment, almost as though he was wondering whether I was being deliberately difficult.

Then he leaned back in his chair.

“You need new clothes Jenny” he said and then added “And of course you need a wedding dress for tomorrow.”

I stopped breathing for a second.

“My what?”

“Your wedding dress.”

I stared at him in shock,

“You’re making me a wedding dress?”

He frowned slightly.

“Of course. Did you expect to get married in your everyday clothes?”

I felt something inside me drop. He stood up from his chair and I instinctively leaned back slightly in my chair because of how tall he was.

“Get your dress made, Jenny.”

I stared at him.

“That’s all you have to say?”

He looked down at me.

“The tailor is waiting.”

Then he turned and walked toward the door as though he hadn’t casually informed me that I was getting married in less than twenty-four hours.

As though this was a perfectly normal thing to tell someone over breakfast.

I remained seated, watching his retreating figure.