|chapter 13|

|chapter 13|
|Talitha|

The hush in the room is broken only by the faint crackle from the lantern and the distant chirp of night insects. Beyond the narrow, stained-glass windows of the office, the fields stretch in shadow, silvered faintly by the moon. All is still, yet my heart is anything but.

I lean back in my chair, my arms wound tight about myself, as my body begins to tremble, the realization—that there truly is no escaping this—settling further deeply into my bones. Formerly, I'd steeled myself, not wanting to show weakness by shedding a tear or breaking down. However, now that the flames of my last hope have been extinguished, the tears come flowing in quick, hot successions.

I look up at Mother Elvyra as she makes her way from her own chair on the other side of the desk and settles beside me, taking my hands into hers. She gives them a little squeeze, her presence calm as a great oak while I feel myself no sturdier than a leaf.

“Why?” I inquire, the simple word torn from my throat like a wound. “Why did you bend to the King's will earlier? Why did you give him your assent, Mother? I do not need more time to think about anything. I simply do not wish to overturn my current life just to follow some mate I know absolutely nothing about nor care for. Why would you side with him?”

Her eyes close, and she releases a slow breath. “I did not side with him. I did what was needful. My duty is ever to protect you, child, and to shield the townsfolk from wrath they cannot withstand. Defiance would have fanned his wrath into flame. The Alpha King is merciful beyond the measure of other sovereigns, aye, but his mercy is still edged like a blade. He is a man who keeps to every word he speaks, and he is not to be trifled with.”

“Mercy? You call it mercy to threaten the lives of children? To place the whole of this village beneath his heel merely to have his will? That is not mercy, Mother Elvyra.”

Her calm gaze settles upon me, neither harsh nor yielding. “Tell me truthfully, Talitha,” she says, “was he wrong? Is he not your mate? Did you lie to him when you claimed another man as your husband?”

The questions cleave me in two. My lips part, but no sound will come. I draw a trembling breath, shoulders quivering. “I did not know,” I whisper hoarsely. “Not at first. He claimed me so suddenly, so fiercely, and I—” my throat closes around the words, “—I panicked. I told him Tyler was my husband because I needed him gone. I needed time to think. I could not—”

“And in so doing, you cast your friend into danger. Do you not understand? A he-wolf’s possessiveness is instinct, fierce and consuming. In an Alpha King, that instinct is sharpened to the edge of madness. To deny him thus was perilous. You placed the whole village in grave jeopardy.”

Shame burns across my skin like a brand. “I did not mean to endanger anyone!” I cry, my voice cracking. “I only wished to breathe, to gather my wits, yet he pressed upon me without relent. I fought as best I could. What else was I to do?”

“You could have spoken plainly,” Mother Elvyra replies softly. “You could have told him truth, and trusted the Goddess to keep her hand upon you.”

“The same Goddess who has watched on whilst I’ve been bled and broken under cruelty? You would have me trust her still?”

I drag a hand across my face, my exhaustion a constant feeling today. “And yet what Demetrius says…I do not know if such a thing can happen. Is it even possible to be given another mate? Cain was mine—” I choke at the thought of him, “—yet Demetrius claims me also. I have never heard of such a thing.”

“It is rare, yes, but not beyond the Goddess’s hand. Sometimes, when one soul has borne suffering beyond measure, She grants another bond. A chance at healing. A chance at joy.”

At this, I laugh, bitter and hollow, the sound scraping my throat. “Joy? Do you name this torment joy? The Goddess gave me Cain, and Cain unmade me. She watched whilst he broke my body, my spirit, until naught was left but ruin. And now, when at last I have pieced together a quiet life, she sets a king upon my path? A man who fills the very air with his command, whose touch makes my soul ache with longing? If this is mercy, then mercy is naught but cruelty dressed in a fine garb.”

The sobs come freely now and I press my face into my hands. “The Goddess toys with me as a cat with prey. Erna and I finally have a simple, quiet life. We need nothing more. Especially not the Alpha King.”

Mother Elvyra draws me close, her hand stroking gently through my hair. Her voice is low, steady. “Do not condemn him yet, child,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand over my hair. “He is not Cain. Do not let old wounds blind you to what he may yet prove himself to be.”

I wrench myself back, shaking my head violently. “Cain was but a simple wolf, and he burned me to ashes. What then of a king? A king whom no law restrains, whom no council dares oppose? If Cain could destroy me, what is to stay the Alpha King from reducing all that I am—all that I love—into ash? Who shall shield me then? Who shall shield my daughter?”

At this, my voice breaks entirely, a sob strangling my throat. I press both hands to my face, but the tears leak through regardless.

“Fear writes cruel tales, Talitha. Do not let it script the ending before the tale is told. A tale can turn, even when it begins in sorrow,” Mother Elvyra says, her words falling upon me like water upon barren ground. They do not sink in, however. They cannot.

“Perhaps for others,” I say, my voice hollow, “but never for me. My tale has been written already, and the Goddess takes delight in seeing me suffer it to the end.”

At length we part, me stumbling to my chambers while she remains in her office. I push the door closed with shaking hands, and in the faint light of the dwindling candle, I behold my daughter, curled small upon the bed, her lashes casting soft shadows against her cheeks, her breath soft and even. My heart constricts at the sight of her innocence. With care, I slip in beside her, drawing her into my arms. Her warmth seeps into me, fragile and dear.

“All I need is you,” I whisper into her hair, my lips trembling. “Only you.”

But sleep evades me. My thoughts chase themselves in endless circles until exhaustion forces my eyes closed. And then the dream comes.

I smell him before I see him. The air grows heavy, my chest squeezed tight as though chains have been wound about my ribs. His shadow looms vast and cruel, his hands closing around my wrists. The weight of him bears me down, crushing me into nothing. I thrash in spirit, but my body betrays me. It is as though I am bound hand and foot.

“No,” I cry out, but the word is no louder than a breath. His mouth curls into that smirk I know too well, the one that mocked every cry, every plea of mine. I feel the ghost of pain crawling over my skin, my heart hammering until I think it might burst.

I force my eyes upward, but it is not Cain’s face I see. It is his. The Alpha King. His golden gaze burns with ruthless triumph, and the smirk twists, sharpening into a snarl that promises possession. I scream. At last my voice tears free, and I wrench awake with a strangled sob, drenched in sweat.

Beside me, Erna stirs with a whimper, rubbing her eyes. “Mama?” she murmurs, half-asleep, and I clutch her to me desperately, burying my face and tears in her hair. “Sleep, little one. ’Tis naught but a dream.”

She goes back to sleep, but the nightmare clings to me like a shroud, Cain’s cruelty entwined with Demetrius’s shadow. And with every sharp beat of my heart, one thought grows louder than the rest:

I no longer fear ruin for myself alone.

I fear it for Erna as well.