Chapter 6
Fern
Fern woke with the sound of shifting bodies, her own limbs still heavy with sleep. The room was dark, save for the dying embers in the hearth, and she blinked slowly from where she lay.
Today was the start of it, then.
Before she could even wonder if there was more time to rest, the door opened and Marin entered, ringing a bell and dashing all of her hopes that it wasn’t as late as she feared it might be.
“Breakfast in ten!” she cried loudly, rousing those who still had not stirred.
Some women moaned, turning away from the sound for the precious few moments they still could, while others stretched and yawned as they sat up. A few were already making their beds.
Fern rose and went first to the bathing room. She had washed herself after coming back downstairs last night, scrubbing the oily shame of her first misstep off her skin, but felt some cold water on her face might help prepare her.
Once refreshed and dressed, she shuffled up to the kitchen in the middle of the line of women, all red-eyed and grumbling. Fern already wanted to cry, not knowing if she could really do this for the rest of her life.
And all she’d done so far was wake up.
The Solvekh collected bowls of plain porridge from one of the cooks, but before her despair over the tasteless meal could spiral into something deeper, she spied small jars of honey on the tables the others were gathering around.
The weight on her chest lessened slightly as she poured some over her breakfast.
At least there was this.
She joined the others and as she ate, listened to their conversations.
“Apparently, Lady Kyntha is looking for attendants…”
“Oh, I would kill for such a position…”
“Did you hear Una’s pregnant?”
“But she was only petitioned a month ago!”
“Are you Fern?”
She looked up to see a man with tousled blonde hair and brown eyes smiling at her. “I’m Hyde. Marin told me I would lead you today.”
Tension she didn’t know she was carrying began to leave her muscles, and she let out a deep, relieved exhale.
“Oh, thank goodness, I was feeling almost nauseous about doing this on my own.”
He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “The wolfkin aren’t that cruel. It makes everyone’s lives easier if you know what you’re doing. Come, I’ll show you how to set everything up.”
She finished her breakfast and Hyde took her into the dining hall, which looked smaller now that it was empty, the echoes of music and laughter still ringing softly in the air.
The windows were narrow and tall, reaching towards a ceiling obscured in shadows where the sun and firelight could not reach, while the walls were adorned with colorful tapestries that had faded with time, their stories fraying at the edges.
Benches were brought down from the tops of tables, candles were lit, and pitchers of water and ale were filled.
Hyde spoke easily about his life as a human before he’d been marked and bound by the Alpha Norden.
“I worked with horses for a wealthy man outside of Figbrook,” he said, his smile wistful as he set the plates. Fern trailed behind him with cutlery. “I heard the wolfkin getting into the stables one full moon, and thought I might actually scare them off with an ax and torch.
He laughed to himself. “I suppose I should be grateful Alpha Norden’s wolf was amused by my foolish bravery instead of offended by it.”
Fern thought of her own night with Darion when he’d marked her. At the time, it had seemed like he was listening to what she was saying, and while the bite wasn’t prominent, it had been rather gentle. As though he wanted to make sure it didn’t hurt.
“How much of yourself do you retain when in your wolf form?”
Hyde stopped to look at her, his eyes narrowing. “You mean you haven’t shifted yet? I thought I heard Alpha Darion’s wolf marked you years ago.”
“I was a child when he marked me, and my parents kept me hidden so I would not be banished.”
He looked at her carefully, considering her story, and then shrugged, moving on to the next table.
“It’s… strange, the first time it happens.
Your wolf is not entirely you, in that he has his own opinions and desires, but does not think only like an animal, either.
You still have some influence, much like you probably feel your wolf speaking to you now, encouraging you towards decisions your human side would not make. ”
Fern’s wolf, as nascent as she was, had been making more of an appearance since Darion had bound her to the clan.
And, annoyingly, appeared to be somewhat smitten with the alpha, which was ridiculous for two reasons. One, because Fern wished she’d never met him, for it was his fault she was here in the first place. And two, because he was courting a mate far lovelier and nobler than her anyway.
“So when an alpha first marks you, who makes the decision—the beast or the man?”
Hyde grinned. “A little bit of both.”
They finished setting the hall up just as the wolfkin began to file in, their hair unkempt and clothes wrinkled. But otherwise they appeared no worse for wear after a long night of feasting, drinking, and other activities, their smiles bright and voices loud.
Fern found the work easy enough. She bustled between the kitchen and the tables, her arms laden with trays of bread, meat, fish, and eggs.
“New girl!” a man yelled, just as she grabbed some empty pitchers to refill. She wiped away a drop of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand as she approached, the smile on his face one she knew well from years of skirting around handsy patrons.
“Aye, sir?” she asked.
The men around him held back their snickers, eyes crinkling above their mugs as they watched, pretending to drink.
She fought back the heat that crept into her cheeks, and ignored her wolf, preening at the attention.
We don’t need men to make us feel important, Fern chided the beast.
You haven’t been ignored for the past ten years, she snapped back. Allow me this.
“Alpha Darion found you in Freywood, did he not?”
“He did, sir.”
He nodded knowingly, his smirk growing wider. “I’ve never been. Tell me,” he said, picking up a link of venison and holding it low on his lap and between his hands. “Do they make the sausages as big as these over there?”
The men around him chuckled, and Fern’s blush burned all the way down her chest. But she still leaned down, her eyes darting quickly between the meat and his face. “Perhaps not. But big or small, once they’re on my plate, my knife cuts them all the same.”
The table erupted in laughter, ale spewing from lips as fists pounded the wood. The man slapped her hard between the shoulders, howling before dismissing her with a wave.
Pulse hammering, she retreated towards the kitchen, looking up only for a second to see Darion at the head table. He was watching her carefully, and when their eyes met, he nodded, and then he turned back towards the other alphas, deep in conversation.
Her wolf chirped in delight, but Fern ignored her, picking up the pace.
It wasn’t long until the hall cleared, the cycle beginning anew for lunch. And once that was over, it was time to set up for dinner.
The constant work made the day pass quickly, leaving her little time to dwell on her new circumstances.
Maybe that was the secret to not falling into a pit of despair so deep you could not get out of your cot.
Once it was finally the end of the night, and she’d just wiped down the last table, Fern felt a hand land softly on the small of her back.
With a yelp, she spun around, clutching the rag to her chest.
Jules, the guard who had taken her from Darion yesterday, took a step back, his hands up with a sheepish grin on his face. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”
Fern managed her best smile. “It’s fine. I-I’m a little tired, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it all…”
The Ashpaw, back hunched and hair covering her face, skittered behind her with a broom in hand, heading towards the fireplace.
Jules ignored her completely, his eyes on Fern. “There’s a lot of wolfkin to take care of,” he replied. “But I hear you’ve made a good impression on the clan, and there’s already talk of petitioning.”
He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “I told you not to worry about your small stature.”
A lump grew in her throat. “P-petition?”
She’d heard some of the Solvekh talking about that this morning, but had forgotten about it before she could ask what it meant.
“You’ll be out of the kitchens in no time,” Jules continued. “In fact…” He stepped even closer, wiping a stray strand of hair from her face. “I would like to petition for you myself. I’m young still, but I think the Alphas would consider me a good fit.”
Her wolf was ecstatic, but Jules may as well have been speaking a foreign tongue for how much she understood what he was talking about.
He took her hand next and flipped it over, his fingers gently running over her palm and sending pleasant shivers down her arm. Then he let her go, bowing slightly. “I’ll see you later, Fern.”
She watched him walk away, goosebumps spreading down both arms now, and turned towards the Ashpaw, the only other person in the hall. “What is petitioning?”
The Ashpaw looked up, but did not answer.