Chapter 2: Die for Her

The journey to the North is rough but fast.

I’m bound like the prisoner I am and carried on the leader’s back.

The wolves sneer at me, displeased, but I am as helpless as a lamb. They’re not allowed to approach me, and it is their leader who feeds me with his own hands, not that I have much of an appetite.

The stress and fear make me throw up my meals, and as a result, I’m greatly weakened by the time we arrive in the North.

It’s cold here.

They’re going to execute me now, aren’t they? Why didn’t they kill me back home?

Does this man want to murder me in front of everyone?

It’s public knowledge that Princess Ravenna started the war that led to so many casualties.

Do the wolves of the North want her head in return?

Unlike the East Kingdom, where the lands are fertile and the economy is booming, the North is engulfed in harsh winter year-round, making it hard for crops to grow and for prey to live.

Up here, they don’t take pride in culture and elegance. The wolves of the North are warriors who are considered beasts on the battlefield. Their wealth comes from their mines, which are filled with gold and gems.

“Uneducated animals,” Princess Ravenna once maliciously described them. “I would sooner bed a rabid dog than a wolf from the North.”

Hysterical laughter bubbles within me as I’m dragged into the castle. Animals? She’s the chicken who ran away, leaving me as a decoy. And now I’m going to die in her place while she rebuilds her life with ease.

I rue the day I stepped into her path all those years ago.

I was just a child, not five years of age, desperate for food. She took one look at me and told her bodyguard to bring me home with her.

If I had known the fate that awaited me, I would have slashed my own throat right then and there.

I’m shivering in the cold, surrounded by five men, the chain around my wrists and ankles clunking against the stone floor.

The leader is in the front, holding the other end of the chain.

I wish he would tell me what he plans to do with me.

We enter a chamber that looks like a dismal version of a throne room. After all the splendor of the palace in the East Kingdom, this place is cold and gloomy, with gray, stone walls that feel like they’re closing in on me. I can’t see a single speck of color.

“Sigrid!” the leader suddenly roars.

Sigrid? I look around the room. Is she to be my executioner? A woman appears, wearing a maid’s attire. “Your Majesty?”

Majesty? Shocked, I stare at the leader. Is he really King Barret Locke?

This hulking beast of a man?

He hands the end of my chain to the woman. “Bathe her. She smells.”

The woman’s expression doesn’t flicker. “What about the chains, Sire?”

“They stay on.”

“Very well.” She looks at me now. “Come along, Miss.”

“You don’t have to treat her with dignity. She’s a prisoner, Sigrid,” one of the men next to the king says, sneering. “You’re looking at the arrogant Princess Ravenna. Give her the treatment she deserves. She’s here to be a slave after…”

A low growl fills the room, and everybody freezes, including the man who was running his mouth.

“This woman belongs to me. I won’t tolerate any disrespect directed at what is mine.”

“But, Locke!” the man who was speaking before protested, his face pale. “You know what her crimes are—”

“Silence!” The king’s tone is cold and filled with finality. “Derrick, go see to our troops. Sigrid, do as you’re told. And feed her.”

Sigrid holds the end of the chain in her hand but doesn’t tug on it. Instead, she speaks quietly. “Follow me, Miss.”

I’m led out of the throne room into another hallway.

The ceilings are high, no windows anywhere. Unlike the Eastern palace, there are no colorful portraits. The walls are bare, a dismal gray that makes me shiver. My mind is in confusion, my body poised on the edge. I don’t know what is happening.

Princess Ravenna told me I would die in her stead, that the Northern wolves would rip me to shreds.

I was ordered to endure it. As she left, she hurled one last look at me, telling me she wished it would hurt like hell.

So, why didn’t I run?

Why did I stay in her room?

Had I really begun to see myself through her eyes over the years? As someone so utterly worthless?

I stare ahead, unsure of the horrors that face me. King Locke said I belong to him. Is he going to amuse himself with me as Ravenna did?

My claws dig anxiously into my palms.

Will I have to take my clothes off in front of the soldiers like Ravenna made me do?

Bile rises to my throat, and I stagger.

“Careful there, Miss.” Sigrid steadies me, her hands on my upper arms. I nod mutely before whispering a hoarse, “Sorry.”

The room we enter is dimly lit, and maids are waiting there. When they see me, their eyes widen. Unlike Sigrid, they don’t do a good job of hiding their feelings. Disdain, disgust, hatred.

I look down at the floor, far too familiar with such emotions being aimed at me.

“Brina, fill the tub. We have to bathe her.”

One of the maids starts, and she scowls at me. She opens her mouth, but Sigrid glares at her, and she scurries toward the tub.

“You two. Help me undress her.”

Two of the maids approach me, and one of them sighs loudly. “How can we take off her clothes with these chains, Sigrid?”

“What you can’t take off, cut off,” Sigrid instructs. “Fetch some scissors.”

“That’ll take too long. This is easier.”

Without warning, she bares her claws, and I hear the ripping of fabric as the maid slices roughly through my clothes.

I smell my blood and realize that she has nicked me.

She snickers. “My bad.”

“Janet!” Sigrid says, her tone harsh.

“Sorry, Mrs. Bader. It was an accident.”

An accident that continues to take place as she tears off the rest of my dress.

My back is to Sigrid, who sucks in her breath once I’m completely naked.

“Everybody out.” Her voice is hard.

Janet and the other maids exchange glances and leave, looking relieved.

But as Brina starts to follow them, Sigrid stops her. “Not you. You stay.”

The maid makes a face and approaches me.

When Sigrid remains at my back, I wonder if she’s seen the scars. No princess would have scars on her body.

Has she realized the truth? Is that why she removed the other maids?

“Get me a dress. A comfortable one,” she orders Brina, who sighs in irritation but leaves the room.

“Come along, child,” Sigrid says, her voice gentler now as she leads me to the white tub in the center of the room.

It’s hard to move in these chains, but I manage to do so. The water is cold, and I flinch.

“In you go.”

I fold my body into the tub at her command, biting my tongue as the icy water stings my skin.

Sigrid fetches a washcloth, and when she dips it into the water, she hisses. “It’s cold!”

I stay silent.

“Those girls!” She sounds displeased and moves over to open one of the taps. Hot water pours out. “You should’ve said something.”

Once again, I don’t utter a word. What am I even supposed to say?

Sigrid washes every inch of my body, and as the grime disappears, more scars show up.

Finally, even she has a hard time holding her tongue. “What happened to you?”

“I would rather not talk about it, if that’s okay,” I murmur.

She doesn’t push the topic any further.

Brina has left a dress for me, and Sigrid dries me off before applying a cream to my skin. It smells like vanilla and jasmine, a scent that soothes my wolf, which has been pacing within the confines of my mind, agitated.

Sigrid then helps me into the dress.

Guiding me to another room, she sits me down in front of a vanity and combs my wet hair.

She doesn’t dry it, nor do I ask her to.

The meal served to me is a simple, meaty broth accompanied by six slices of thick, delicious bread. I only manage to eat one before my stomach begins to feel queasy.

Sigrid must sense my desire to vomit because she puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Sip some of the broth,” she tells me. “It will warm you up.”

I do so reluctantly, but after a few mouthfuls, I quickly proceed to throw up on the tray.

“S–Sorry,” I gasp, trembling.

“It’s alright, child.” Sigrid wipes my mouth and hands me a glass. “Sip some water. It will get rid of the taste.” She takes the tray away, and I move off the chair to the ground, wrapping my arms around my legs. When she returns, she stares at me but doesn’t comment other than to say, “Get up.”

With her help, I manage to get to my feet, but my body feels chilled as I look at her. “Now what?”

She sighs. “Now you go to the king.”

King Barrett’s chambers are located in another part of the castle. They’re massive, and the lack of a color scheme is no longer surprising to me.

There’s a large canopy bed in the center of a long wall, tall, arched windows, a small sitting area, and a fireplace.

The fire is already crackling when I enter, but the king is nowhere to be seen.

“You have to wait here for the king,” Sigrid instructs me.

I wobble, finding it hard to stand on my feet any longer. She guides me to one of the chairs by the fireplace.

“Are you sure this is alright?” I gaze at her warily. “Am I allowed to sit by the fire? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

She gives me a surprised look. Probably because it’s the first time I’ve spoken so many words in a row. But she’s the only one who has shown me any kindness, and I don’t want her to pay for it. I’m not accustomed to kindness.

“It’s quite all right. He’ll be here in a while. If you get hungry, there is fruit on the table for you.”

I watch her leave, my body tensing once I’m all alone.

I don’t understand what is happening. Why am I being cleaned up and given food? Why am I wearing this soft dress? Am I missing something here? Is this to get me comfortable before they start torturing me?

My eyes stray toward the fire. It’s so warm. There’s a small carpet in front of it, and I sit down on it, preferring this to the chair. I don’t feel comfortable sitting in a chair. I was never allowed to sit on high surfaces in Princess Ravenna’s presence. I belong on the ground. It’s where I feel the safest, where I have always been told my place has been.

I curl up on the carpet, exhausted. My stomach hurts. My body hurts.

Everything hurts.

As I stare at the flickering flames, a strange numbness settles within me.

Maybe if he kills me, I’ll finally be free.

After all, freedom is the only thing I’ve ever truly craved.

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