Semua Bab The Alpha King's Breeder: Bab 771 - Bab 780

LexaThe pack house of the Glade is remarkably similar to the ones in Silverhide and Endova. It’s a single wide, airy room with multiple entrances to the outside world but no windows. Long tables stretch in its center, but smaller tables and wobbly stools meant for moving around are scattered throughout the space. There’s a kitchen in the back–crude, however, with not much more than a few work tables and a wood-fired stove for cooking. But it’s the storeroom off the kitchen that takes my breath away, and not for the reason it should have. It’s nearly empty. Bags of flour, oats, and rice are depleted to near critical levels–barely enough to feed a single family. Dried, smoked meat hangs from hooks on the ceiling, scrapped down to the bone. I step out of the way as another set of fae–servants, I believe–step past me carrying bags of what smells like grain. They keep stacking and stacking but barely make a dent in what’s needed, and some of the ice guarding my heart melts at the sight o

Lexa“Stay close,” Kaleb whispers sternly over the top of my head as we follow a set of fae guards through the bowels of the castle. “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” I reply under my breath, trying to wrench my arm free of his iron-like grip. He hasn’t let go of me since the moment Lis and I stepped out of his house and met him in the courtyard, where, unfortunately, the man had effectively stolen my breath away. His hair is loose, falling just shoulder-length and brushed back. Instead of grubby, coarse fabrics, he’s wearing a finely made suit that fits his body like a glove and makes him look like a man I’d find in Maeve’s castle–royalty. It sent a jolt through my system, to say the least, and after the slightly open moment we’d shared in the sparring ring today, I can only assume that the look on his face when he’d seen me had him feeling the exact same way. Shock.The thin, almost satin-like fabric of my dress ripples over my body, every curve and muscled angle on display. Tw

LexaNo one wakes me up. Hot midday sunlight spills through the window, barely muffled by the curtain. It’s definitely past noon when I roll myself out of bed, out of the coarse, woven sheets and onto the hard but freshly swept floor. Something inside me shifted yesterday. Something cold and gnawing I’ve been struggling with since I was young. It’s easy to forget that I’m still a person beyond the weapons and my skills in battle, but when I look in the rusted mirror hanging on the wall by the bed, tugging the strings that pull my shifting dress into shape, I see her. Me. Just Lexa. Lexa, who watched her mother prime and fire that arrow that didn’t make it in time. Lexa, who watched a man she cared about–maybe even a man she could have grown to love–grovel for her affection before seeing him get cut down in cold blood. Lexa, who worries about her friends more than anything else. A daughter, a sister, a friend. A fucking princess. I untangle the strands of my hair with my fingers be

KalebI rush through the chaotic swell of guards scrambling to access the arena, pushing and shoving my way through the fray. Silas shouts my name, but I ignore him as the dragon breaks free of its chains and soars into the sky, bellowing a roar that shakes the entire city. I catch a glimpse of Lexa. She falls to her knees, and blaring bright lights fill the arena. Guards with swords and spears race for her as the gates to the arena open, allowing them access, but I run faster, breathless, skirting around the open pit and over puddles of blood until I reach her side. She moans, curling into herself as she succumbs to what I know is shock. Shock from the games, from the dragon, from the physical and mental agony of entertaining the crowd above, which is now being hastily dispersed. Shock from watching her friend get executed by someone she loved and trusted.Her cheek is ice cold against my palm.But the guards are closing in. I scoop her into my arms and back against the wall as w

LexaI’ve been to funerals like this before but always in Endova. There haven’t been many deaths in Silverhide. Our pack is young, with hardly any elders, and we’ve been relatively safe. I find myself clutching Kaleb’s forearm while we walk through the city under a cloak of wet, humid darkness, my mind racing over the battle on the beach. How many pyres were lit in the days that followed? Dozens? I missed them all. Kaleb doesn’t flinch away from my touch. His progress to the pit, the massive gate to the outside world, is slow, steady, letting me set the pace. My legs feel like lead despite the healing draft still working through my system. My elbow is fine now that it’s set back in place, and the drafts have done their job knitting my tendons back together, but the ache in my heart remains.A crowd has gathered along the wall. Shadowed figures of men, women, and children look up at us as we approach. I see familiar faces. Familiar curious glances. But tonight, people bow their heads