Chapter 4 The Ceremony or Dungeon
MEIRA ASHFORD
Faint sounds drifted in from outside, the distant laughter, the soft hum of music, and the occasional clink of glasses. Every note was a reminder of where I was and what I was about to do.
What I was about to do was dangerous.
I had left the house feeling brave, wrapped in layers of defiance and false courage, but as the royal household loomed over me in all its intimidating glory, that courage started to tremble. My hands, gloved in black, felt clammy. My heart pounded so hard that it was almost louder than the music from the grand courtyard.
“Do you want to turn back?” a whisper in my mind teased.
I froze, spinning around quickly. “Who’s there?” I demanded, though my voice wavered between fear and stubbornness.
No one answered, only the rustle of leaves and the cold air brushing against my skin. I swallowed hard. My eyes darted through the shadows, half expecting to see the glint of a soldier’s armor or the sharp gaze of a royal guard.
If it was one of them, I was doomed.
All my life, I had been warned to stay away from large gatherings, especially those involving the royal family. That was the first rule the Seer had ever told me. I was still a pup then, confused and lonely, wondering why I was burdened with so many strange restrictions when everyone else my age lived freely.
“Never go near the royal pack house,” the seer had said, her old eyes glimmering with something I didn’t understand. “And if, by any twist of fate, you must enter it, wear gloves. Always.”
That was why I now stood here, trembling beneath the weight of her warning, wearing black gloves and a ridiculous mask that hid more than my face; it hid the fear I couldn’t afford to show.
“Is this even worth it?” I whispered to myself.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t about the party. It wasn’t about the royal family or the prince everyone worshiped from afar. It wasn’t even about the longing to belong.
It was about freedom.
For once, I wanted to do something that wasn’t dictated by rules or fear. I wanted to breathe the same air as everyone else, even if only for a night.
And yet… a part of me still hesitated.
“The prince,” I muttered bitterly. “As if he’d ever notice me.”
Even if I met him in another life, I knew he’d never look my way. Commoners didn’t catch the eyes of princes. They bowed to them. They obeyed them. They stayed out of sight.
I wasn’t even a commoner; I was a cursed hybrid, forbidden from ever setting foot in the royal household for reasons I still couldn’t understand.
But tonight… I wasn’t hiding.
“It’s me, Meira.”
I froze again. The voice came softer this time, like a breath brushing against my thoughts. I turned in every direction, but the path behind the fence was empty.
My stomach twisted. “Who’s there?” I hissed again, lowering my tone. If anyone caught me sneaking around, I’d be locked in the dungeon before sunrise.
“It’s me, Roxy.”
The name hit me like lightning. My pulse stumbled.
Roxy?
I looked around again, desperate, half-convinced I was losing my mind. “Am I developing brain sickness now?” I whispered under my breath.
“I’m your wolf,” the voice said again; it was clearer this time, stronger.
And then I felt something shifting inside me, something awakening that had long been buried under doubt and silence.
My knees weakened, and a small gasp escaped voice felt warm and comforting, like sunlight my lips. “I finally got my wolf?” I could barely keep my voice steady, excitement bubbling in my chest.
“Yes, Meira. I’m Roxy,” she said softly.
Her voice was warm, comforting, like sunlight sneaking into the coldest corners of my soul.
“I’ve been quiet for a long time… but I’m glad you’re here now.”
A rush of emotions hit me all at once: relief, disbelief… and something that might just be hope.
If I could get my wolf after losing all hope… then maybe anything was possible.
“So… you think I should go?” I asked quietly, uncertain how to talk to a voice that felt both like me and not me at all.
“If you want to,” Roxy said simply.
It was strange hearing her, feeling her, yet knowing she was me in another form. She was the part of me that had been asleep all my life, the part that understood strength and instinct.
Something fierce stirred in my chest. Determination.
I glanced at the towering fence separating me from the royal courtyard. “Well, here goes nothing,” I muttered.
With a deep breath, I gripped the fence and began to climb. The metal was cold beneath my gloved fingers, the fabric catching slightly on the rough edges. My heart hammered with each move.
Halfway up, my foot slipped. The ground looked much farther than it had a moment ago. I gasped, losing my balance. For a split second, my entire life flashed before my eyes, every warning, every rule, every whispered threat.
Then strong, steady arms caught me.
The impact never came.
Instead, I felt myself lifted into the air, pressed against something solid and warm. My breath caught as I realized I wasn’t falling anymore.
A deep scent surrounded me.
It was earthy and powerful, with a faint undertone of smoke and pine. It was intoxicating and foreign all at once.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
Blue eyes stared back at me.
It was cold, intense, and familiar.
The kind of eyes that could burn through armor or freeze you entirely.
For a heartbeat, the world fell silent. The laughter, the music, the fear, it all vanished.
It was just those eyes and the strange electricity pulsing through the air between us.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, and edged with something unreadable.
I couldn’t find my voice. My mind screamed for me to move, to step back, to say thank you, but my body refused.
Mr. Sherlock?
But why was he in royal clothing?