Chapter 11 #2
He placed his hand on her back and pushed her forward, guiding her a little forcefully into the chair. “You need to eat if you hope to shift at the next full moon. Starve the man, starve the wolf.”
“I’m a woman.”
“Same difference.”
“And I’m made,” she added.
His frustration grew. “Who cares?”
“Everyone but you, apparently.”
Eidan grumbled to himself, falling heavily into the chair next to her.
“Fern, please. My brother… My brother…” He sighed, giving her a wan smile.
“He was raised to lead armies, and thinks physical pain is the surest path towards results. Works well with soldiers—not so much with little she-wolves in the dining hall.”
He ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it in the soup, offering it to her. “Won’t you at least try?”
For the briefest moment, her mind flashed to images of Kyntha feeding Darion, the look of adoration laced with desire in his eyes, and wished, stupid as it was, that Darion might one day gaze at her with the same sort of reverence.
She opened her mouth, and he slid it inside. Her tongue swiped his finger, unaware if it had been a purposeful act or not.
Eidan inhaled sharply, then withdrew his hand, licking his own fingers clean before rising and patting her on the head. “Eat what you can.”
He threw another log in the fire and picked up a book on the shelf, returning to the chair.
Fern ate, barely tasting anything and only finishing about a third of the meal while Eidan read.
“I’m finished,” she announced.
The book snapped shut and he came to inspect her progress.
“Hm, good enough, I suppose. Come, come, let’s get you back before anyone becomes suspicious.”
She went to the wall to grab her broom and then followed him out the door. “Don’t worry. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you punished me for hours.”
A little rumble came from his throat. It sounded like a warning. “Careful, now. Best not be giving me any ideas.”
Her face paled, and he looked down at her, chuckling to himself. “Ah, sweet little she-wolf… you would have been a fun one.”
With a hand on her back, he led her down the stairs, the sound from the party long since over.
He cleared his throat as they walked, speaking quietly. “I have to go away for a few days. And since I don’t want to see you getting in trouble because a certain beta won’t take the hint that you are unavailable indefinitely, I will be taking him with me to ensure it won’t happen while I’m gone.”
She felt sick at his use of the word “indefinitely.” Fern had hoped that if she were good and could manage to bring her wolf back out for the next shift, Darion would allow her to return to her normal position.
Did he mean to leave her as the Ashpaw no matter what?
Or did he assume she’d never shift, and would be left like this until she died?
Not that she was hoping to be up for petition any time soon, but the alternative was horrifying.
“Thank you, Alpha Eidan.”
“Just Eidan, Fern. When we are alone, you can drop the title.”
Her cheeks flushed. “It feels wrong.”
“Oh, there’s a lot that feels wrong about this,” he replied, his voice deepening. Then he lowered his nose to the crook of her neck, breathing her in deeply.
The proximity to a living, breathing person was intoxicating. She could melt into a happy little puddle if he’d let her.
Eidan’s mouth rose to the shell of her ear, his breath warm and tickling. “But that’s what makes it so fun.”
His lips brushed against her skin, the barest hint of a kiss, and then he backed up a step, her body wanting to lean towards him.
“Stay out of Darion’s way, hm? Let’s not give him any reason to put you against that wall again.”
Fern nodded. “Believe me, I’m trying.”
He smiled and then turned around, leaving her alone at the stairwell.
She watched him go, feeling hopeful that at least Harland couldn’t draw attention to her again while the only person in the castle who had the power and inclination to help was gone.
Slinking back to the shadowed recesses of the dining hall was still her best strategy, then.
Otherwise she might resort to hiding in the kitchen, but there were different dangers there.
It was one thing to get pushed on the floor with a platter full of dishes—it was another to land face first into an oven.
She put her broom back, and then skipped down the stairs two at a time, hoping the bathing room was empty so she could wash in peace.
The door would creak loudly on its hinges, but Fern knew how far she could push it until the opening was wide enough to slip through. The fire was low, the moonlight obscured by clouds, and she could just make out a few dark shapes by her little corner as she entered.
Squinting, she came closer, when suddenly someone grabbed her from behind, a hand slapping over her mouth before she could make a noise.
Another shadow stepped in front of her, and her eyes widened in shock. It was the woman who’d spat at her earlier, the one Harland had rejected.
“I’d let you scream if I could—no one would bother to come to your aid, after all.”
She reeled back, then punched Fern hard in the stomach.
Gasping, her lungs seized, and the food she’d just eaten threatened to come up.
“But I don’t want to wake anyone with your nonsense.”
Then she went straight for her blanket.
“N—”
She couldn’t speak, the hand clasping back over her.
They couldn’t…
With a cruel smile, she let it unroll from her raised hands, her little treasures clattering on the floor. “What a little pack rat you are, Ashpaw. Collecting garbage. Is that because you’re garbage, too?”
Tears flooded her eyes, and she shook her head with a whimper.
Was she really that cross that Harland had rejected her? For why else would she have this much hate in her heart for Fern already?
“What a filthy little liar you are, Ashpaw. No wonder Alpha Darion thinks you’re useless. Weak.”
She lifted her foot and stomped on the little ceramic shard, shattering it into dust.
“A failure.”
Then she scooped up the rest and dragged Fern with her towards the fire, where she threw everything, blanket and all, into the dying flames.
Her muffled cries woke those nearby, and sleepy voices hissed for silence before the room settled again.
“And if you think for one moment I’ll ever let you rise above this, you’re dead wrong.”
The woman behind her released her, just so the other one could slap her across the face.
She fell sideways, twisting to hit the floor on her knees. She cried out in pain, and then a knee was slammed into her gut, bringing her all the way down.
Feet stomped, kicked, and ground into her, until finally they grew tired, and Fern had stopped feeling it entirely.
She closed her eyes, and sank into the darkness of her mind.
A cold, wet nose nudged her, whined, and then disappeared.