Meredith.
I turned the corner and found Madame Beatrice waiting for me.
She didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions, didn’t even look at me for longer than a second before turning on her heel and starting down the hall. I followed in silence, my pulse still thrumming from my encounter with Draven and Gary.
The journey back to my room was painfully long—hallway after hallway, staircase after staircase. My feet ached with each step, my body screaming from exhaustion. My throat burned with thirst, my stomach churned in hunger, and yet, Madame Beatrice moved with the same rigid posture, her steps as sharp and strong as ever.
Even at her age, she showed no signs of fatigue.
I released a slow breath, coming to yet another miserable realization—I wasn’t built for this world. If I had a wolf, climbing staircases for ten minutes straight wouldn’t feel like I was dragging chains behind me.
Draven’s words clawed at my mind.
"Get a wolf first before you think about flipping a table."
My hands curled into fists. He had insulted me, just like the rest of them. Treated me like a weakling. And the worst part? He was right.
I hated that more than anything.
By the time we reached my room, my breaths were shallow. Madame Beatrice unlocked the door and stepped aside.
I hesitated.
She gestured lightly. "After you."
My brows knitted together.
After me?
I wasn’t used to that. People always walked ahead of me—pushing me aside, making me wait, making me last.
But her expression didn’t shift.
I wasn’t sure if this was some kind of subtle test, but I wasn’t about to stand outside my own bedroom all night. I stepped forward and entered.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I noticed movement inside the room.
Four female servants were inside, adjusting things, straightening pillows, folding and unfolding sheets as if the slightest wrinkle would offend someone. But as soon as they heard our footsteps, they froze and turned toward the door, bowing.
To me.
For a second, I didn’t move. They weren’t bowing to Madame Beatrice. They were bowing to me.
It felt strange, and I wasn’t sure what to think about it.
A sharp clap snapped me from my thoughts. Madame Beatrice had brought her hands together, drawing the servants’ full attention. "You don’t have all day," she said. "Undress the Alpha’s wife and take her for a bath."
Alpha’s wife. Not Luna.
I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not.
I didn’t care about titles, but it was strange. They could have simply called me Luna like they would with any Alpha’s bride. But I wasn’t any Alpha’s bride, was I? I was Draven’s. And I was cursed.
Shaking the thought away, I obeyed Madame Beatrice without a word, sitting in front of the vanity mirror as the maids removed my cloud veil, jewellery, and makeup.
The heavy fabric slipped from my shoulders, and I exhaled deeply, trying to push away the weight of the night. But it clung to me, poisoning my thoughts and making me remember everything I wanted to forget.
Draven forcing me to become his bride.
Draven standing up for me.
And Draven insulting me.
I hated how much space he occupied in my mind.
Two maids guided me toward the bathroom. Steam curled through the air, thick with the scent of vanilla and lavender.
Madame Beatrice’s voice cut through the haze. "Use the lavender oil," she instructed. "In case the Alpha changes his mind and decides to visit tonight."
My blood ran cold.
Draven? Coming here?
After everything?
I clenched my jaw. No. He had insulted me. Humiliated me. Let others disrespect me. I had no business with him, and he had no business coming to my room.
And hadn’t he already told me that bedding me wasn’t in his plans? So why would he—
I quickly caught myself.
It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t come. He shouldn’t.
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