The Alpha and the slave princess

The monster in me

Elara’s POV

I didn't blink. I didn't even pull away. I let him see the hatred in my eyes, even as the silver collar burned a steady, agonizing circle into my skin.

"I will endure whatever I have to," I said, my voice barely a breath against his lips. "But don't think for one second that I will ever forget who I am. I am the daughter of the man you murdered. I am the Alpha you couldn't kill."

Julian’s smile didn't mfalter, but his grip on the leather lead tightened. He liked my fire. He thrived on it. It was a game to him. . . a sick, twisted game where he held all the pieces and I was just a pawn he hadn't decided how to sacrifice yet.

"We shall see," he whispered. He stood up straight, releasing the tension on the lead, though he didn't let go. He walked back toward his desk, pulling me along like a dog. "For now, you will stay here. In this room. You aren't going back to the dungeon."

My heart gave a small, traitorous leap. Not because I wanted to be with him, but because being out of that cage meant I was closer to the kitchens. It meant I was closer to Ashanti.

"Why?" I asked, looking at the large, fur-covered bed. The thought of sleeping in the same room as him made my skin crawl. "Why keep me here?"

"Because out there, you are a symbol of a fallen pack," Julian said, picking up a quill and dipping it into a jar of black ink. "In here, you are a reminder of my victory. I want to look at you every night and remember exactly what happens to those who betray the Blackwood Eclipse."

He began to write on a piece of paper, his movements calm and precise. He ignored me as if I were just another piece of furniture even though I clearly mattered moments ago.

I stood there for a long time, the weight of the silver collar pulling at my neck. My body was exhausted. The hot bath and the glass of wine had made my limbs feel heavy, and the adrenaline that had kept me standing was starting to fade. I looked at the plush rug by the fireplace. It was better than the cold stone of the cell, but it felt like a defeat to lie down in front of him.

"There is a washroom through that door," Julian said without looking up from his work. "And a small nook with a cot. That is where you will sleep. If you try to leave this room, the guards have orders to kill the first person they see in the kitchens. Do you understand?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Good. Now, go. I have work to do."

I turned and walked toward the small door he had pointed to. The alcove was tiny, barely big enough for the narrow cot and a small table, but it was private. I closed the door behind me and sank onto the bed. The mattress was soft, so soft that it felt like I was sinking into a cloud. I put my face in my hands and let out a long, shaky breath but I knew I can't afford to cry.

I lay there in the dark, listening to the scratch of Julian’s quill in the other room. My mind was spinning. I had to get to the kitchens. I had to see Ashanti. I had to know if the children were okay. If they were working the fires, they would be exhausted, hungry, and scared. They needed to know I hadn't abandoned them.

I waited. I don't know how many hours passed, but eventually, the scratching of the quill stopped. I heard the sound of Julian moving around the room, the clink of his belt hitting a chair, and then the heavy thud of him lying down on his bed. The fire in the main room died down until only a faint orange glow came through the crack under my door.

I counted to a thousand. Then I counted to a thousand again.

And Slowly, I stood up. My dress rustled against my legs, a sound that seemed loud as thunder in the silence. I crept toward the door and eased it open.

Okay good! Julian was asleep. He was lying on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. In the dim light, he didn't look like a monster. He just looked like a man. But I knew better. I looked at the desk where the leather lead was lying. He hadn't tied me to the bed, but he didn't need to. The threat against Ashanti was a stronger chain than any leather strap.

I moved toward the main doors of the bedroom. My bare feet made no sound on the thick rugs but my heart was beating so loud I was sure he would hear it. I reached for the handle, with my fingers trembling around it.

If I leave, he will kill her.

The thought stopped me in my tracks. But then another thought followed. If I don't go, she will probably think I’m dead. And then, She will lose hope. And without hope, they will all die anyway.

I didn't open the door. Instead, I looked around the room. There had to be another way out. A servant’s entrance, a balcony, or something. My eyes landed on a heavy tapestry hanging on the far wall. It was slightly uneven.

I hurried over to it and lifted the edge. Behind it was a small, narrow wooden door. A servant’s passage.

I pushed it open. It creaked, and I froze, looking back at Julian. He didn't move. I slipped through the door and into a narrow, dark stone tunnel. This had to lead to the lower levels. How convenient.

I began to descend. The stairs were steep and uneven, and I had to feel my way along the wall. I went down and down, the air getting warmer and the smell of food getting stronger makde me feel like I was getting closer.

Finally, I reached a door at the bottom. I pressed my ear against it. I could hear low murmur of voices.

"Move that pot, girl! Faster!" a man shouted.

I heard a small, muffled sob. My heart broke. I knew that voice.

I pushed the door open just a crack.

The kitchens were massive and chaotic, even in the middle of the night. Dozens of people were moving around, scrubbing floors, tending to massive iron pots, and carrying heavy crates of vegetables. Most of them were wearing the gray rags of the Silvermoon Peak.

And there, near the Great Hearth, was Ashanti.

She was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing a giant iron pot. She looked exhausted, and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Ashanti," I breathed, the word barely a whisper do she didn't hear me. I looked around. The guards in the kitchen were distracted, laughing together near the pantry. I seized the moment. I darted out from the passage and slipped behind a stack of crates near the place.

"Ashanti," I hissed again.

This time, she froze. She slowly turned her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. When she saw me, she let out a tiny gasp, covering her mouth with her soapy hands.

"Princess?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Is it really you?"

"Shhh," I warned, reaching out to grab her hand. Her skin was burning hot from the fire. "I’m here. I’m okay."

"We thought you were dead," she sobbed quietly, the tears carving clean paths through the soot on her cheeks. "They said the Alpha was going to execute you."

"He’s keeping me in his quarters," I said, my voice tight. "He’s trying to break me, Ashanti. But I’m not broken. Are the children okay? Is Leo here?"

Ashanti nodded, wiping her eyes. "They have the older children working in the laundry. The little ones... they are in the cellar. They are scared, Elara. They are so scared."

"Tell them I’m coming for them," I said, squeezing her hand. "Tell them to stay strong. I’m going to find a way to get us out of here."

"How?" Ashanti asked, looking at the silver collar around my neck. "He is too strong. This pack is too big. We are just slaves now."

"No," I said, looking her straight in the eyes. "We are Silvermoon. We don't bow. I’m going to find his weakness, Ashanti. Every man has one. And when I find it, I’m going to burn this place to the ground."

"Who are you talking to?!" a voice boomed from across the kitchen.

I bolted. I didn't look back. I dived into the servant’s passage just as a heavy meat cleaver thudded into the wooden doorframe behind me.

I scrambled up the stairs, my lungs screaming for air and my heart was thundering against my ribs. I had seen her. I had seen her, and she was alive. That was all that mattered.

I reached the top of the stairs and slipped back into Julian’s room. I moved as fast as I could, closing the servant’s door and smoothing the tapestry back into place. I turned around, ready to run back to my alcove.

I froze.

Julian was sitting on the edge of his bed. He wasn't asleep. He was watching me, his silver eyes glowing in the dying embers of the fire.

"You are late for bed, Elara," he said. His voice was low, calm, and terrifying. That's it?

I stood there, my chest heaving, the red dress damp with sweat and the smell of the kitchens. I couldn't hide it. I smelled like smoke and grease.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, my voice shaking.

Julian stood up. Oh goodness! He walked toward me slowly, like a wolf stalking a wounded deer. He stopped right in front of me and reached out, his fingers catching something on my cheek. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, looking at the black smudge.

"The kitchens," he whispered. "You went to see the maid."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. The fear was so heavy in my throat I thought I might choke on it.

"I told you what would happen if you left this room," Julian said. He grabbed the silver collar, his knuckles brushing against my skin. "I told you that your choices have consequences for others."

"Please," I gasped, the silver starting to burn as his anger heated the metal. "It was my fault. Only mine. Don't hurt her."

"I’m not going to hurt her," Julian said. He leaned in close, his eyes locking onto mine. "I’m going to make you hurt her."

He dragged me toward the main doors. I struggled, kicking and scratching at his arms, but he was like a wall of stone. He threw open the doors and shouted for the guards.

"Bring the maid!" he roared. "Bring her to the Great Hall!"

"No!" I screamed, falling to my knees and grabbing his legs. "No, Julian, please! I will do anything! I will stay! I will obey! Just don't hurt her!"

Julian looked down at me, his expression cold and pitiless. "You had your chance to obey, Princess. Now, you are going to learn what happens when you try to play hero in my house."

He hauled me up by the collar and dragged me down the hallway. I was sobbing now, the pride I had worked so hard to maintain crumbling into nothing. I had wanted to give Ashanti hope, but all I had done was sign her death warrant.

We reached the Great Hall. It was empty now, the fires low and the tables cleared. Julian threw me onto the cold stone floor and stood over me.

A moment later, two guards dragged Ashanti into the room. She was shaking, her eyes wide with terror. When she saw me on the floor, she let out a broken cry.

"Elara!"

"Quiet!" the guard snapped, forcing her to her knees a few feet away from me.

Julian walked over to a rack on the wall and pulled down a long, thin leather whip. He ran his fingers along the length of it, the sound of the leather whistling through the air making my blood run cold.

"You wanted to see her so badly," Julian said, turning back to me. "Now you get to watch her receive the punishment you earned."

"No," I whispered, reaching out toward him. "Take me instead. Whip me. Kill me. Please, Julian, she’s innocent!"

"In this pack, no one is innocent," Julian said. He handed the whip to the guard standing over Ashanti.

"Ten lashes," Julian commanded. "And Elara... if you look away, I will make it twenty."

The first strike echoed through the hall like a gunshot.

Ashanti screamed. It was a sound I will never forget, a high, thin sound of pure agony. I felt the lash as if it had hit my own back. I lurched forward, but Julian stepped on the lead of my collar, pinning me to the floor.

"Look at her," he hissed.

I looked. I had to. I saw the red line blooming across Ashanti’s back. I saw her collapse forward, her forehead hitting the stone.

The second strike came. Then the third.

I was screaming now, begging, pleading, offering him my life, my soul, anything to make it stop. But Julian just stood there, his face like a mask of ice, watching me watch her.

By the tenth strike, Ashanti was no longer screaming. She was just whimpering, her body twitching with every blow. The floor around her was stained with red.

"Enough," Julian said.

The guard stepped back, his chest heaving. Ashanti lay still, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

Julian looked down at me. I was a mess, my face covered in tears and snot, my body shaking so hard my teeth were chattering. I looked up at him, and for the first time, I didn't see a man. I saw death.

"Do you understand now, Elara?" Julian asked, his voice soft, almost gentle. "Your hope is a poison. It doesn't save people. It kills them."

He leaned down and picked me up, cradling me in his arms as if I were a child. I was too broken to fight him. I just leaned my head against his chest and sobbed, my heart breaking into a million jagged pieces.

He carried me back to his quarters and laid me on the bed. He sat beside me, stroking my hair as I cried.

"Go to sleep, Princess," he whispered. "Tomorrow, we start your training. You’re going to learn how to be a proper pet. And maybe, if you are very good... I will let the maid have some medicine."

I closed my eyes, the image of Ashanti’s bleeding back burned into my eyelids. I had wanted to be a hero. I had wanted to save my people.

But as I drifted into a dark, dreamless sleep, I realized that Julian was right about one thing.

The Princess of Silvermoon was dead. And the monster he wanted me to be was starting to wake up.