“At least tell me this,” the General said. “What are you?”
I did not tell him. I would keep that to myself for as long as possible. I knew that there was a chance he would let me go the moment I said I was just a druid. But there was still a chance that he would put the pieces together, and figure out why the emperor wanted me. I remained silent. Besides, I was not sure what the General was either. He looked like a werewolf, but his scent was something else entirely. Why would I tell him if he himself is not forthcoming with his own people? Did they know he was something new, something wrong?
“Last chance,” he said. I simply shook my head.
“If you don’t speak, we can’t let you go,” the General said. His voice was still low, and monotone. But it was clear that this was a final warning. But how could I be sure that he would let me go if I spoke the truth?
“Do we really need to imprison him?” Alain asked. He put his hand on my shoulder. He stared right at Axel, and Axel looked back at him.
“Yes,” the General decided. “We don’t know what he is.” He murmured something to the alphas next to him. Their eyes widened slightly, before nodding and leaving Axel to stand there on his own.
“Precisely! He could wield dangerous magic,” Erna said. I scoffed at that. If I wielded dangerous magic, I would have escaped a long time ago.
“Erna,” the General said. “Take the prisoner to the central tower.” Silence followed.
“The central tower? That is hardly a punishment! The dungeons are empty,” Erna all but shouted. I looked at Alain in question. Whereas the others seemed surprised by the General’s decision, Alain did not. He tightened his hold on my shoulder slightly, and gave me a dimpled smile. I did not understand what was happening. Was I supposed to be happy to be locked up in a tower?
“The order is final,” Axel said. With that, he marched away. Alain let go of me, and rushed up the stairs after him, not sparing me another glance. That’s how I was left there, at the bottom of the steps, with no idea what was going to happen, except that I would be taken to a tower, like some sort of fairytale princess in an enemy land.
Three nights after meeting the General
The central tower was indeed not much of a prison. Three days before, Erna had led me towards a spiralling staircase that ended in a hallway. A grand wooden door marked the entrance of a chamber befitting a royal. I remembered staring at her in disbelief when we entered the chamber in the central tower. It held a writing desk made from stained cherrywood. An empty but clean bathtub. A bed with clean linens and an outrageous amount of pillows. There was also an oakwood rocking chair and a chamberpot. The room even had a small window, overlooking the central courtyard. This place of imprisonment would only make sense if I was a kidnapped princess, or the increasingly demented mother of a king. As it stood, I was just a peasant.
“This is not where I am to stay, is it?” I asked. Erna simply shrugged her shoulders, but her glare was deadly.
“It is what the General commanded,” she said. I walked over to the bed. The pillows were duck-feather. There was even pink silk hanging from the four-poster bed. I sat down and breathed a sigh of relief at the softness of the mattress.
“Why?” I asked. She gazed over at me. She had been courteous enough thus far, but did not spare me many glances that were void of poison. This was the first time she seemed tobe staring at me with something other than just distrust. She was trying to figure out as much as I was why the General would hold me in such lavish chambers.
“I think…” she started, pausing to look me over once again, “General Axel must know something I don’t.”
I thought this over for a bit. If the General thought he knew something, he must have been mistaken. I was not of true importance.
“There will be soldiers guarding the tower,” she interrupted my thoughts. I nodded at her. With a final glance, Erna left me alone in the massive room. The rest of the day went by rather quickly and uneventfully. I slept the day away. I was still weak from my journey.
At some point during the first night, a young brunette girl, flanked by two guards, neither of them alphas, handed me clean linen clothes. The guards filled the bathtub with hot water. The girl even left a bowl of porridge and a jug of clean water on the cherrywood desk. I tried to ask her for her name, but she did not look at me. She was short, and rather jumpy. Maybe it was scary for her, being close to a prisoner.
When I woke up the next day, I noticed that food was left through a shutter in the middle of the door. The shutter was almost big enough for me to crawl through, but not quite. Most of the day I looked out at the courtyard. There were soldiers training at all times of the day. I was starting to become restless and worried. What if I was to be locked up in the tower forever? What if no one came for me ever again?
When night fell, I witnessed the moment a hand shoved a plate of food through the shutter.
“Hello?” I said, to whoever was there. I bent down and looked through the shutter. There was someone there, but all I saw was the blue fabric of their robes.
“Hello,” a man answered. He almost stuttered.
“Who are you?” I asked. There was a moment of silence.
“My name is Espen,” the man said. I picked up a scent from him. It was woody, much like the other werewolves I had met, but there was a hint of sweetness in the air. It was comforting.
“I am Gabriel.” My southern accent had not deterred the stranger. I all but lay on the floor to see his face. When he saw me peering up at him through the shutter, he took a step back. The stranger was rather beautiful. That was the first thing I noticed. Espen had a brown braid hanging over one of his shoulders and amber almond eyes. His skin was tan and smooth. I only saw his face, but I saw enough to know this stranger was not like the servant girl I met before. His hair was clean. There was kohl around his eyes. His gaze was open and curious, wide eyes taking in what was in front of him. There was something arrogant about him, but in a way that endeared me.
“You are not a wolf,” Espen concluded.
“And you are not a servant,” I countered. He grinned at me.
“How did you know?” he asked. I smirked back at him.
“Servants aren’t stupid enough to speak to prisoners.”
