Fifty nights after meeting the General
Three days, he had said. I spent a total of two nights and three days in those chambers.
Grand, grey and utterly devoid of warmth.
Stone walls, stone furniture, even a damned stone chair!
Sure, the carvings were magnificent, but they were also uninviting.
Where at first the chambers filled me with reverence as I took them in, time had turned them into another prison cell.
And what if the ceilings were high? Was I to be grateful for these soft furs when I was unable to even come up from under the covers of the bed for I would certainly freeze to death!
The first morning, I was sure someone would get me out of there.
I tried to walk out, past the guards, in those god-forsaken silks.
They escorted me back in without restraint, the brutes.
That first afternoon I decided to bother them until they allowed me to leave.
It started when an elderly omega served me my lunch.
She came in with a silver tray that was too heavy for someone her age to carry.
“Your grace,” she said, as she placed the tray right on my lap.
This made me chuckle. The sound of it surprised me.
It was the absurdity of it all that caused me to laugh like I was completely demented.
“I am not a noble,” I responded. The tray was filled with foods I loved as well as foods I had never seen before. There was fruit in all colours, more than I had ever seen, even down south, where the climate was fit for growing fruits. It was a meal fit for a king.
“What title would be better suited?” she asked. I looked up to see her, still staring blankly at me. Her dark eyes felt like they looked right through me.
“I am no one, really,” I answered.
She never did call me anything other than ‘your grace’ in the following days.
She was one of the only werewolves I had the pleasure of speaking to, yet she never responded.
That was why I made do with pestering the guards.
I demanded more furs, coats, wool socks, the juice of a pear, and sesame pie.
I asked for a great many things, hoping to annoy them to the point of being let go.
When nothing worked, I asked for a hot bath with rose petals and tea made from cinnamon sticks and cloves.
To my chagrin, I was given anything I asked for.
I even asked for the squeaky clean fireplace to be lit for the very first time, and instead of disdain, I was met with an apology from the guards, as they should have known an omega would not keep warm in the chambers.
I gave up on getting out of there by the end of day two. All that was left for me to do was to read the romance novels I requested, and to drink from the endless supply of hot tea with honey that was now provided to me, to distract me from my troubles.
On the third and final day, I woke up with resentment and spite. I cried tears of anger when dinner came and went. The teardrops left stains on the third book I read, which I had nearly finished as well.
That was when the door to the chamber opened.
There he was, General Axel, looking like he just went to war.
The scar on his left eye was now accompanied by a gash near his ear.
I could not bring myself to care about the state of him.
He stood in the doorframe, flanked by the alpha guards that had refused to let me go.
Bile rose from my stomach up to my throat.
I discarded the furs I was under. Before even standing up, I could not contain myself.
I launched my book at him. It hit his chest, then dropped to the floor.
One of the guards looked away, distancing himself from the situation.
The other guard gripped his weapon in confusion.
Axel just sighed.
“By the gods, what were you thinking?!” I shouted at him. “You locked me up!”
He closed the doors behind him and walked up to me. He stood before me. My face was hot with anger.
“To keep you safe,” he said. He was so calm about it. Unrepentant. “I need to bathe.”
With that, he walked away from me, into the bathroom. The next fifteen minutes or so were unbearable! I could hardly barge in on the man while he was naked. I was still upset, so very upset, but I also felt worried, now that I had time to process the state in which the man arrived.
When Axel emerged from the bathroom, fresh and clothed in simple cottons, my anger had subsided. It had been replaced by the sting of repressed emotions, cutting through my stomach like a blade.
“Have you calmed down?” the man asked. This ignited some of my feelings anew.
“I am not a doll, alpha. You can’t lock me up in your dollhouse while you do as you please!” I answered. He sat on his bed. I stood next to it, my emotions protecting me from the chill in the room.
“I had to.”
“No, you wanted to.” I could have spat at him. “You are a typical alpha! Controlling, demeaning-”
“Omega, calm yourself.” He stood up. He stood in front of me. Too close. He grabbed my wrist. It was a gentle touch. That was worse, somehow.
“I will not! Is this what I am to expect from now on? To be locked away like a princess in a castle? Do you want to imprison me, like the emperor imprisoned my father?”
“Careful, omega.”
“Or what? Will you imprison me again?” He kissed me. I did not know what to do with that. His lips on mine. Nothing forceful, nothing aggressive. He was frustratingly calm, his kisses sickeningly tender.
“We are at war,” he whispered. “My enemies want you for themselves.” His eyes were earnest. His words were true.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Securing the border,” he answered. The wound on his face was small but deep.
“The imperial army was at the border? In the forest?”
“Not many of them.” Humans usually avoided the forest that led north like the plague. Something awful must be on its way if Victor was willing to sacrifice half the soldiers making the passage through a place filled with a grimy old magic.
My hand reached for Axel’s cheek. Despite my feelings on the situation, I could not help myself.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt warmth running through me.
A force from somewhere deep within warmed my hand, warmed his cheek.
When I removed my hand, the wound was gone.
A neat scar in its place. Something forbidden.
Something that even as a healer, I was taught to avoid.
Using my magic. That was my own wound, a voice, telling me that if I use healing magic I would be found out.
I would be executed. But I was no longer in the empire, and the werewolves had no reason to hate me for it.
Still, he had not asked me to use magic. I had resisted so far.
But I felt alive again. Axel reached for his own cheek. I had never seen his eyes grow big in such a way.
“You really are made of magic,” he said. I scoffed.
“You doubted me?”
“No,” he said. He grabbed my hand and raised it towards his own cheek, as if he was meaning to caress himself with it. “I have not witnessed healing magic in years.”
Neither had I, since my mother died. At least not healing magic other than my own.
The only druids in the empire were my own parents.
The only known sorcerer other than Axel was also at Victor’s court.
Beings made of magic were Emperor Victor’s most exotic belongings.
Unlike other magical beings, we would not be executed on sight. Clearly, we would be captured instead.
To most humans we were simply stories. Spellcasting sorcerers, forged in fire.
Shapeshifters made of air, there one moment and gone the next.
The elusive sirens, enchanters who drew their powers from the sea.
And druids of the forest, with the kindest form of magic.
The only ones that were defenceless and weak.
“It’s nothing. I can’t even heal myself. I heal much faster than humans, but I can’t use my magic to heal myself the way I heal others.” He grabbed my waist and drew me close. Not close enough for us to embrace, but close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath, the heat of his scent.
“Your magic is a blessing,” he said. “Mine is a curse.”
I huffed. “Don’t give me a sob story about the power that allowed you to establish a new dynasty. Magic is not good or evil, and neither are we.”
A moment of silence. A hum.
He was warm, as alphas tend to be. His skin was calloused.
His sleeve was rolled down, exposing small burns that littered his lower arm.
Most likely caused by his own accidental magic.
His veins were purple. There was a vulnerability there.
In his exposed skin. In his tired eyes. A man like him was always on guard.
He was not on guard with me. I could not find it in me to fight him at that moment. But that did not mean he had won.
“I do not appreciate being kept prisoner,” I said. I removed my hand from his cheek. I released myself from his grasp. “I need to get back to work.”
No one stopped me from leaving this time.