A slave to the alpha I rejected
Muriel stood over a small stone plate, grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle.
“Thank you, dear. It’s been a while, Princess,” she called to Celeste, who bowed. Muriel was Sorgale’s grand healer—her old age and wisdom had overseen three kings.
“It has been a while, Lady Muriel.” Celeste calls with a polite snake towards Muriel who chuckles.
“Lady? Hah! My old bones are already too fragile. I’m too old to be called ‘lady,’ child—though my granddaughter would be happy to hear it and tease me,” she muttered, patting Celeste’s cheek. The gesture surprised Anora.