Chapter 2

HAZEL

Margaret was supposed to be too weak to stand, yet I watched her walk across the room without anyone holding her hand.

For several seconds, I stood frozen outside the half-open door, wondering whether the weakness in my own body had finally begun to affect my mind. My arms still ached from the latest transfusion, and every few steps sent a wave of dizziness through my head, but I knew what I had seen. Margaret, the girl my parents believed could barely survive without my blood, was standing straight, moving freely, and laughing as though she had never been sick a day in her life.

“You should have seen her mother's face when the physician said Hazel might need to rest for a few days,” Margaret said, her voice completely different from the weak, trembling sound she used whenever my parents were around. “For a moment, I thought she might actually refuse to let them take more blood from her.”

A man answered her, but I couldn't see who he was from where I stood. “And what would you have done if she had refused?”

Margaret laughed softly. “She wouldn't dare. That girl has spent her entire life begging for their love, and all I have to do is look miserable for five minutes to make her feel guilty. Besides, her parents have already convinced themselves that helping me is her duty.”

My stomach twisted painfully as I pressed my back against the cold wall. I wanted to believe there was some other explanation, something that would make the words I had heard less cruel, but then Margaret spoke again, and every excuse I had tried to make for her disappeared.

“Honestly, I never expected them to be this easy to control,” she continued. “The king practically worships the memory of my father, and the queen feels guilty whenever I mention the war. All I have to do is pretend that I'm frightened or weak, and they rush to protect me.”

“And the blood transfusions?” the man asked.

“They're working perfectly.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the door until my nails hurt. The physician's frightened face flashed through my mind, followed by Father's cold voice ordering him to continue even after he had warned them about my condition. I remembered the needle in my arm, the blood flowing through the tube, and the terrible silence that had swallowed my wolf whenever I called for her.

“How much longer can she keep donating?” the man asked.

Margaret sighed impatiently. “As long as I need her to. Her wolf makes everyone believe she's strong enough to handle it, and nobody questions the king's decisions. If Hazel becomes too weak to fight me, that will only make things easier.”

A strange sound escaped my throat before I could stop it.

The conversation ended immediately, and I heard footsteps approaching the door. I should have run, but my legs felt too heavy to move, and before I could gather my strength, Margaret appeared in front of me with a startled expression that quickly turned into a look of concern.

“Hazel!” she exclaimed, reaching toward me. “What are you doing out of bed? You look terrible. You should be resting.”

I stepped away before she could touch me, staring at her as though I were seeing her for the first time.

“Don't touch me!”

Her hand stopped in the air, and she glanced toward the man behind her, who quickly slipped through another doorway without saying a word. Once he was gone, Margaret turned back to me and lowered her voice.

“You shouldn't be wandering around alone when you're feeling unwell. What if you collapse?”

I let out a bitter laugh that hurt my chest.

“You can stop pretending now. I heard everything.”

For the first time, the worried expression on her face faltered, but only for a second. She looked toward the corridor to make sure nobody was approaching, then gently closed the door behind her and faced me with an expression so cold that I felt a shiver travel down my spine.

“How much did you hear?” she asked.

“Enough to know that you've been lying to everyone.” My voice shook, but I forced myself to continue. “You're not as sick as you pretend to be, are you? You've been making them believe you need my blood while you watch me become weaker every day. Why, Margaret? What have I ever done to you?”

She studied me silently before giving a small, careless shrug.

“You were born into a family that has everything I want.”

I stared at her, unable to understand how someone could say something so cruel without even blinking.

“You have a mother who loves you, a father who protects you, and a brother who would probably tear the world apart if someone hurt you,” she continued. “You have a title, a future, and a place in this pack that nobody can take away from you. Yet you still complain because your parents have decided to share some of that love with me.”

“They're taking my blood!” I cried. “I'm barely able to stand, and my wolf is slowly disappearing! The physician said something was seriously wrong with me, but Father ordered him to continue. Did you know what this was doing to me?”

Margaret's expression remained unchanged.

“Of course I did.”

The words struck harder than any slap could have. I stumbled backward, catching myself against the wall as tears blurred my vision, and for a moment, I could only stare at the girl I had welcomed into our home because I felt sorry for her.

“You knew?” I whispered. “You knew I was getting weaker, and you still let them do it?”

“Don't act as though I held the needle myself,” she replied. “Your parents made their own decisions. If they loved you as much as you claim, perhaps they would have noticed what was happening.”

I wanted to scream, but the weakness in my body made even breathing difficult. Margaret watched me struggle, and instead of helping me, she smiled faintly, as though my suffering were proof that her plan was working.

“I'm going to tell them,” I said, wiping my tears with trembling fingers. “I'll tell Mother and Father everything I heard, and I'll make them understand what you've done.”

She laughed.

“Do you honestly think they'll believe you?”

“They have to!”

“No, Hazel. They don't.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice until every word felt like a blade against my skin. “They see a jealous princess who resents the poor orphan they took into their home. I cry, and they comfort me. You complain, and they call you selfish. Tell them whatever you want, but by tomorrow, they'll be asking you to apologize to me.”

I shook my head, desperate to deny the truth because some small part of me still wanted to believe my parents could love me enough to listen.

“Louis will believe me,” I said. “When my brother returns, he'll know I'm telling the truth.”

Something changed in Margaret's eyes at the mention of his name, and the smile that followed was more frightening than her anger.

“Louis?” she repeated. “Your precious brother who has spent years training in the South while you've been here watching your parents fall in love with me? Do you really think he'll risk everything for a sister he hasn't seen in years?”

“Don't you dare bring him into this.”

“Oh, but he's already part of it.” She leaned closer, making sure I could see the cruelty she no longer bothered to hide. “One careless accusation, one little piece of evidence placed where it shouldn't be, and your beloved brother could return home to find his reputation destroyed. Imagine what the pack council would say if they believed he had betrayed his own family or broken the laws of the southern territories.”

My heart began pounding wildly. Louis was the one person I still hoped would help me, and Margaret had found a way to turn that hope into another weapon against me.

“You wouldn't do that to him,” I whispered.

“Try me.”

She stepped back and adjusted her dress, returning to the innocent girl my parents adored as though our conversation had never happened. Then she looked at my bruised arms, her gaze lingering on the fresh marks left by the needle.

“You should go back to your room, Hazel. You look like you're about to fall over.”

I hated that she was right, and I hated even more that I could barely keep my body upright while she stood before me without a trace of weakness.

As I turned toward the door, her voice stopped me.

“One more thing,” she said sweetly. “When the physician comes tomorrow, make sure you cooperate. If you want Louis to return home alive and keep his future position as heir, you will continue donating your blood whenever I need it.”

I turned slowly, staring at the smile on her face and for the first time in my life, I understood that the girl my family had rescued was not the helpless orphan they believed her to be.