CHAPTER 33: EGGSHELLS

CHAPTER 33: EGGSHELLS
Florence
My voice was a light whisper, nearly inaudible.
“I figured it out,” he said. “I’m not Alpha for no reason. Cognitive abilities are one of the most important attributes of every Alpha.” He paused. “Being smart. You should have told me it was him. I should have known when he wouldn’t say anything.”
I slowly shook my head. “It’s not like that,” I said.
“Hell,” he mumbled beside me. “What is it supposed to be?”
His voice was low but harsh enough to cut deep, shattering the smallest sliver of hope I had felt earlier. My mouth opened and then closed, making me look like a fish.
“Is it that you couldn’t believe he did it? That he would stab you in the back like that? Cause you pain? Bring us to the verge of war over something so foolish?” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “You called him here, didn’t you?”
“No,” I shook my head.
“Then what?” Leonard gripped his leg tighter. “Perhaps loyalty is something you don’t seem to understand, Florence, but maybe I should explain it to you.”
His words were slow, deliberate, and cutting. Each one felt like it was aimed directly at my heart.
“You were pregnant with my child,” he said, each word seeming to weigh more heavily. “My child. You were to be my wife. My mate. A bond crafted only between the two of us. Yet, somehow, it was not enough. Was it?”
I shook my head, the words I wished to speak so far out of reach.
“Then what? You called him here only to reject him?”
My heart shuttered, and now he thought I was stupid. I turned my eyes away from him, finding my vision blurry. It was tears. My bottom lip began to tremble, and I pressed my fingers against it, trying to steady myself.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice softer but still carrying the same sharp edge. “I’m not evil,” he continued. “But your actions are obtuse and unfounded. They lack thought. Perhaps I cannot blame you for that. I did buy you, after all. In many ways, I should have known precisely what I was getting myself into.”
He paused, the weight of his words sinking in. “We’ll talk about this later.”
The car stopped suddenly. I raised my eyes and found us in front of the castle. The doors opened as if on their own, and the driver stood outside, stretching out her hand for me to take. I took it.
I needed that hand, it seemed, as I nearly faltered on my feet, though I doubted anyone noticed. Once inside, I went straight to my room without a care in the world. Somehow, along the way, I must have taken off my shoes, as when I reached my room, they were gone.
I had no memory of where I left them—perhaps one of the long hallways of the castle. Maybe, just like my heart, they had been abandoned somewhere along the way.
Perhaps I should have listened to Scott, I thought. Perhaps I should have gone with him.
\---
I hadn’t realized when I fell asleep, but I knew I woke up with a splitting headache, sharp pain in my leg, and an even sharper need to take off the dress I wore.
Who would have thought it was a bad idea to sleep in a corseted dress with a tight bodice? Now, waking up, it felt like it was squeezing the life out of me. I began clawing at the dress, pulling at the fabric and accidentally removing a few of the well-placed stones decorating it. My mind couldn’t focus on the loss—at that moment, all I cared about was getting it off, cleaning myself, and scrubbing away the remnants of last night.
The makeup had caked onto my face, bled onto my arms, and stained the bedsheets I had slept on. By the time I finished scrubbing my skin, the tears, and the salt and sweat clinging to me, I felt raw and exposed.
Then, I remembered the conversation from the previous night in the car. My heart shattered again, a little more. It took everything in me to stop myself from crying.
Still, I sat on the edge of the bed, my bottom lip trembling, my eyes watering again at the mere thought of breaking down.
“Madam, breakfast is ready,” I heard a maid’s voice call gently from the other side of the door, followed by a soft knock.
“I’ll skip it,” I whispered to myself, turning my eyes away from the door and toward the floor.
Even the thought of eating felt like a chore. It already seemed nauseating enough, and I knew that at the slightest taste of food, I might throw up.
“The Alpha also requested to see you after breakfast,” the maid added.
I shot to my feet instantly, my eyes wide as I moved toward the door.
“What is wrong with me?” I muttered to myself, my hands gripping the door handle and pulling it open.
“My lady,” the maid greeted with a smile, her rosy cheeks beaming. She tried to suppress her grin but failed. “This way,” she said, gesturing down the hall.
“I’ll skip breakfast,” I said, already feeling lightheaded and knowing it was a terrible idea to skip a meal.
“Oh, but my lady, that’s not a good idea,” she said, concern softening her voice. “Your complexion doesn’t look well. Perhaps just a light broth? I promise it will take less time than you think.”
Her sweet voice and kind smile were convincing enough to get me to follow her. Eventually, they were convincing enough for me to try the broth she had promised.
There was mint in it. On a good day, mint would have soothed my stomach. But on this day, it only made things worse.
If butterflies could fl
y in my belly, these ones would be dragons, wreaking havoc as they soared.