Her words hit me in the gut harder than the alpha’s did. And so, my sentence on death row begins.
1
ESMERELDA
“Marriage. Marriage!” I shriek with every new syllable. “Can you believe that?” I push the door to my room at my parents’ home open so hard it slams against the wall and nearly nails me on the nose on the rebound. Thankfully, I catch it with my foot before it can make contact, so no damage is done. My wolf growls a low warning, and I get it. A broken nose on top of everything is not the aim. Minerva closes the door softly behind her when she enters the room, and I know it’s her passive aggressive way of showing me I should stay in control. Fuck that. Right now, I am seeing every shade of red that exists.
I pace in front of the giant windows that look out over the manicured lawns and the dense forest beyond. Gardeners are tending to the hedges that make up the magical maze, which was a wedding gift to my parents twenty-seven years ago. Only they can use the maze, and apparently when they enter it, their shared memories play out in high-definition on the hedges for them to see. Right now, the sting of knowing Marcus and I will never have such moments is unrelenting.
I spin around. “I won’t do it. That’s all there is to it. They can’t actually force me to do this. So, I just won’t.” Suddenly, the elegant ruffles of my silk blouse feel like the thorny fibers of a noose. I shrug off my jacket before trying to loosen the buttons around my throat. My fingers are shaking too much for me to fiddle with the delicate pearl buttons, and I shriek out in rage. “Gods-fucking-dammit.”
Minerva steps forward. “Here, let me help you.”
I swat her hands away from my blouse. “Stop that. I can do it myself.”
Yes, she’s my lady-in-waiting, but she hasn’t helped me with dressing or undressing since my sixteenth birthday. And she sure as shit is not going to start again now. The entire practice of having someone help you with basic daily tasks is as archaic as being forced to marry someone you don’t love.
Minerva takes a step back and folds her ample arms over her enormous chest. The other servants don’t call her Tank for nothing. And they definitely don’t call her Tank to her face. She has a mean right hook and isn’t afraid to use it when the circumstances call for it. But the woman needs to be pushed well to the limits to get to that point.
I try once more to loosen the blouse before throwing my hands in the air. “Fine, help me.”
She gives me a disapproving look, but I’m in no mood for her calm demeanor and silent judgment.
“Look, you.” I point a finger, then curl my hands into fists when I see how hard they are shaking. “You try being betrothed to a man you don’t even like, and we’ll see if you can stay calm.”
“Look, this sucks. Make no mistake. But aside from an appeal, there isn’t much you can do about it. All you’re doing right now is getting your blood pressure up, and I’d bet you a year of my wages that your wolf isn’t happy either, but for the goddess’s sake, you cannot be talking about treason.”
My wolf snarls in response, and I scoff. “Treason?” The word drips with disbelief as I spit it out. “Refusing to marry Marcus”—I nearly gag on his name—“hardly qualifies as treason.”
The reply comes sharp and unforgiving. “Call it whatever you want. Defy the council, and you’re as good as dead—whether it’s for refusing Marcus or speaking out against them.”
“Do you think I’m scared of that bunch of?—”
Minerva’s hand shoots out and covers my mouth. “That is it. If you don’t calm down, I’m calling Beth down to do a calming spell.”
“You wouldn’t.”
She stalks to my closet and pulls out a pair of leggings and a tank. Handing the clothing to me, she says, “To save you from yourself, I absolutely would.”
Beth was my brother’s’ and my nanny when we were growing up. She hasn’t worked for us in over a decade, but she still lives upstairs in her private suite, where my parents treat her like royalty.
A forest guardian, Beth came to our world as a teenager, back when slavery was still a reality. After the Benyaminas burned half the forest, killing her parents in the process, she was left hiding behind a tree. My parents stumbled across her while surveying the damage, unaware of a trap hidden right in front of the tree. Beth called out just in time, saving my mother from certain death—or worse, a gruesome fall into a spike pit.
To show their gratitude, my parents took her in and cared for her like one of their own. When my mother became pregnant with me, Beth insisted on repaying them for their hospitality. No matter how often they told her that saving my mother’s life had already settled the debt, she wouldn’t hear of it.
Though she’s no longer our nanny, Beth is still terrifying in her own way. When we misbehaved as kids, she’d make roots sprout from our toes, planting us to the ground for the durationof our punishment—not long, to be fair, but long enough to keep us in line. Despite her stern ways, she loved us fiercely, and we always knew it.
“Min, I can’t do it. I can’t marry that…that…man. And more than having to submit to him as his obedient wife—I will set myself on fire first before doing that—I haven’t worked as hard as I have to let some hoity-toity, prissy man who has never gotten his hands dirty have a part in my family’s business. I just won’t.
“I mean, have you seen how he pulls his perfect auburn hair into that fancy do? What’s with that? It’s easy to see the hardest he’s worked with his hands is to give himself a manicure or turn the pages of his precious books. I need a real man. Not some guy who’s all chiseled jaw and straight nose. If he was my type, he’d have calloused hands because he works…hard. His nose would be slightly crooked from being in numerous fights defending his and his pack’s honor, and he definitely wouldn’t have the flawless skin he has going on. I mean honestly, who has skin like that? Where are his scars, his battle wounds? I bet he hasn’t even had a papercut.”
“So, you haven’t given this much thought then, have you? Especially not his appearance.”
I fling my shoes across the room. “His looks would be the only thing he had going for him if he wasn’t such a pampered princess.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
I turn on my best friend. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
