Everything I wasn't.
But I didn’t have much time to think about it because she was the first person ever to greet me by throwing her slender arms around me and pulling me tight to her body. A second later, I was released and eased away. The sudden movements were enough to make me lose my breath and my footing. I took a staggering step backwards before one of the guards cupped my elbow to keep me upright. It was the first time in my life that someone had received me with such happiness and not a sigh of contempt.
“Oh, Cora, you're going to frighten the poor girl off,” a man chided, walking towards me with the pace of a very noble giant. He was taller than his wife, with grey hair and warm hazel eyes. He was the opposite of the woman. She had a soft presence, but he commanded attention. She was delicate and lovely; he was rugged and strong.
“Forgive me,” Cora whispered, bowing her head slightly. “My husband is right. I should act more formally around a queen. I got overly excited about meeting my son's mate,” the former queen explained. Even her voice sounded melodic, like she was singing instead of speaking.
“No need to apologize,” I replied. My voice came out nervous.
“Queen Willow,” the former king announced, his voice filling up the whole entryway as he bowed his head, “it is a pleasure to finally meet my son's wife. My name is Thaddeus. Welcome to our home.”
“Second wife,” I corrected automatically.
“That's hardly important considering that you are mates. Come. Let's get to know each other better over a cup of tea,” Cora offered.
There was that damn word again. Mates. It seemed to mean everything and nothing.
Cora and Thaddeus led me through a small portion of their home and into their drawing room. They sat together on a sofa like proper husband and wife, and I awkwardly sat down in a small but pretty upholstered chair. I smoothed my skirts, seeing as they were attempting to swallow me whole, but when I looked up at my husband's mother, her dress fell beautifully around her, flowing onto the floor like liquid gold, and my throat tightened. This was the woman who raised the king. She was as elegant as a goddess, and here I was, unable to even sit in a chair. No wonder he struggled to understand me. He had been raised by perfection and had been handed a slave.
“So, Willow, tell us about yourself,” Cora encouraged. Her kind eyes didn't change when she looked at the servants who served us tea. Her smile always remained on her lips, and her hand rested on her husband's thigh.
So what was I supposed to tell these wonderful people? Was I supposed to tell them about my life as a slave? Surely, they would think it was awful and gruesome and not at all appropriate for such fine ears, but I knew I could've had much worse. Or, perhaps, I should enlighten them to the tale of my doting mother who left me to die. Maybe they wanted to hear about the animals that I used to sleep in the barn with, the creatures that I had called my friends for years before they were eaten, and the daily chores my pudgy master had me complete. Even thinking the words in my head seemed to leave a bad taste in my mouth, and I could only imagine their shocked expressions.
“There's not much to tell,” I answered.
Thaddeus opened his mouth like he was going to protest or encourage me otherwise, but Cora squeezed his knee affectionately.
“Do you like the palace?” she asked, allowing the subject to drop.
“Yes, it's beautiful, though not as lovely as your home,” I replied truthfully.
“Oh? And what makes you say that?”
“It's so bright. The walls are in warm colours, and you have fresh cut flowers in every room. You have cheery paints that warm my heart at the sight. The palace is elegant and far better than my former home, but yours is the loveliest I've ever been in.”
Cora grinned widely at my comment. “Well, thank you. But if you wish to change the palace, just ask your husband for your bedroom to be repainted and to have some flowers in the rooms. If you behave as a good queen should, I'm sure he would be delighted to reward you.”
I thanked the servant who poured me tea and took the saucer from his hands before looking at the queen again.
“I'm not so sure the king would do that much just to please me.” As the words came out, I realized I should've kept them to myself.
“Of course he would. You are his mate. Giving you what you want will bring him more joy than anything else.”
I thought about my wedding, one of my demands for staying with the king, and the tight grimace he had on his lips the entire time. It didn't seem like my wishes filled him with anything other than rage. Still, I forced my best smile at Cora and Thaddeus, hoping that they would believe that all was well; that my husband loved me just as much as Thaddeus loved his dear wife, and that he would do anything my heart desired.
“Is that a mark I see on your neck?” Thaddeus questioned, easily changing the subject.
“I'm not sure.” I self-consciously touched the scab that was still healing. “The doctors said it was a mark. King Archer called it a mark, but they also said something about it being incomplete. It sounded like it was a part of being a mate.”
At my words, Cora looked terribly concerned, and I feared that I had said something wrong. The saucer began to shake as my hands trembled. Oh, I knew coming here was a mistake, and now I had already upset the former queen.
“Willow, do you understand what a mate is?” Cora asked.
I swallowed hard, knowing the truth, but not knowing what they wanted to hear. It seemed honesty was all I could give them.
“No.”
Both husband and wife tried hard to cover their shock. I attempted to drink some of my tea in an effort to act normal, but it got lodged in my throat and I had to choke it down.
“Do you understand what that mark on your neck is?” Thaddeus pressed.
“A bite wound. King Archer attacked me.”
“Do you know what that wound will mean to other werewolves or why Archer did it?”
“No.”
Cora grabbed Thaddeus's arm in her hands, her eyes moving over his face in a pleading manner and her smile vanishing completely. The knots tightening in my stomach made me sick as I placed the tea cup and saucer down. I had done this. I had come into this beautiful home, been greeted like I was a gift from heaven, and I had ruined everything.
“I should be going. You'll have to excuse me,” I said hastily as I stood up.
“Yes, of course,” Cora said sympathetically, but I was already rushing out the door.
Chapter Nineteen
When I returned to the palace, my guards and maids could tell something was wrong. As I walked past James, he moved like he was about to reach out to me but thought better of it and stayed away. I wondered what he would've said or done if there hadn't been another attentive guard beside him. He always seemed to have the right words in my worst moments.
My maids behaved similarly, saying nothing, but Lydia asked James to fetch me something to drink, like they were all trying to solve the problem on their own. Truth be told, I was grateful they didn't grill me about my emotions because I had no idea what to tell them or how much I was even allowed to tell them. I didn't know what I could say about the former king and queen without offending and if my actions at the manor would get me in some kind of trouble.
After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door, and I was offered beer or wine. The smell of beer reminded me of my old owner and his vulgar ways and the wine reminded me of his wife In contrast, the wife held a less vile place in my mind so I took the goblet of wine and drank the entire portion in a few gulps before I asked for another. The wine was wonderful, tasting so much better than the potato water I had grown so used to. I wanted to drink it all night long. My maids looked moderately stunned, but Lydia bowed her head in compliance and returned to James with her request. Jasmine said nothing, busying herself with cleaning my spotless room, and Isabelle picked up our stitching from the previous days with a timid smile, offering me my botched work.
I stitched with Is
abelle for a couple of hours, and when my mind became too loud with too many unanswered questions spinning in it, I drank more wine. Fretting over the former queen's words would not solve any mystery that the king kept hidden, and regretting my actions would not change them. Sure, they would label me as a brute, but who in this palace hadn’t? So I chose to enjoy my wine until my brain felt fuzzy within my skull and my eyes drooped with relaxed exhaustion. I drank until I stopped noticing the worried glances my maids shot each other every time I picked up my goblet, and I lost track of how many times James had delivered more pitchers. I had never been drunk before, but it felt lovely right now. It seemed to be exactly what I needed.
Hours later, Lydia indicated that I should change into my evening gown and have my hair redone. I just scoffed at her, feeling like my old self, like the woman I kept hidden whenever I was inside this grand place. I told her that I would be fine in my day dress with my frizzy hair. She appeared anxious at my refusal but curtsied in agreement and allowed me to stitch until James announced that dinner was ready. I let out a sigh that was close to theatrical in protest but managed to get to my feet and over to the door.
“Are we sure she should meet with the king at all?” James asked warily, ignoring me to speak only to my maids.
“No, we aren't sure,” Lydia retorted, “but we are not going to be the ones to deny the king his wishes. Are you?”
James examined my face in defeat, then extended his elbow to me, “Come, Queen Willow.”
I was delighted to walk with James, though I stumbled so often that he slid his arm around my waist just to keep me upright. I was amused by the warm feeling in my body, but it seemed that I was the only one who thought it was funny because James eyed me with something close to concern. And his expression was mirrored on the other faces that we passed by, even on the guards who announced my arrival into the dining hall. I felt a little bad at that. I didn't intend to make anyone feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to feel like myself again. So I giggled a little to myself and told James how much I used to love wearing men’s clothing around the farm. He just seemed horrified.
But the only person who didn't look worried was the king. He didn't look concerned at all when he saw me standing in the door way with James's arm still wrapped tightly around my waist. He looked furious, and he made a noise that sounded animalistic which caused James to let me go immediately. At the release of support, I staggered and stumbled until I tipped into my seat, sniggering like a child. There, my attention was taken off the king and James and zeroed in directly on the food. I hadn't realized I was starving, but now I felt like I could eat everything in sight. It all looked so wonderful and smelled so amazing.
“What's wrong with her?” the king boomed, his dark eyes flashing to James.
“She requested a large quantity of wine before the meal, your majesty,” James answered.
“Leave us, all of you,” the king demanded, his eyes roving over every person in the room. “I need to speak with my wife.”
I should've been scared considering the way that everyone else quickly ducked out of the room, and I should've been terrified of the way that my husband stalked over to me, his expression unreadable. But I wasn't. All I could think about was how handsome he looked and how hungry I was.
“Why are you drunk?” he asked when he reached my end of the table.
His proximity was distracting, and my eyes dipped over his whole body. He looked exquisite in his breeches and shirt. The navy of his shirt made his dark eyes seem darker. I couldn't help but stare at him in awe for a moment. It was hard to believe that he was mine. This perfect creature was my husband.
Then I ignored him and extended my hand towards a glass filled with fine wine. He intercepted my extension by grabbing my wrist. The skin on skin contact sent a wave of pleasure up my arm that was so lovely and so peaceful, I shut my eyes for a split second but opened them a moment after when I felt him try to tug away. I made a disgruntled noise and latched on firmly to his hand. When he didn't pull away again, I let out a little sigh of victory.
“Eat some bread and drink some water,” the king said, but his stare never moved from my face. “After that, I'm taking you to bed.”
I did as he asked, though I really wanted to fill my stomach with everything in sight. It all looked so wonderful and tasty; it would be a real shame to let it go to waste.
“No,” the king snapped when I went for a slice of ham. “More water.”
“You're no fun,” I pouted, but I followed his instructions anyway. As intoxicated as I was, I was quite afraid of him.
“What am I going to do with you, Willow?” he groaned, no longer sounding annoyed, just exasperated.
“Love me,” I blurted.
If I had been sober, I would’ve never said such a thing, and even in my drunken stupor, I vaguely knew that it was not the right thing to say. I didn’t know what kind of response to expect from King Archer after my impulsive words, but I did not expect him to reach forward and tenderly brush the back of his hand against my cheek. His intense dark eyes met mine, and all I could do was stare until he abruptly turned away.
“You shouldn't have drank so much alcohol tonight. Your body still hasn't recovered from all those years of neglect; you need all the nutrients you can get. What you did was very irresponsible, Willow.”
I didn't say anything for a long time. I was tired of his chiding, like I was a small child who couldn't handle myself just yet. So to keep myself out of verbal danger, I kept my mouth shut while I drank enough water to please the king and didn't utter a complete word when he helped me out of my chair. That didn't mean that there was no giggling or snorting, but I hardly cared, and I certainly couldn't tell if the giddy feelings came from the drinks I had had or the touch of the king. I tumbled against him repeatedly, grabbing onto his expensive jacket when I fell or pressing my body against his chest to regain my balance, and he kept a firm hold on one elbow while his other arm was looped around my waist.
Before I knew it, I was back at my room, and the king was dismissing James and his partner before he eased me over the threshold.
“I'll get her to bed. You three retire early,” King Archer said to my maids.
In no time, my maids were gone, and odd feelings swept over my whole body. I was still drunk and dizzy from all the movement but still so happy all the same. And I knew that with my maids gone, the king was going to be the one to undress me, so I eagerly stood in front of my vanity, waiting. The thought filled me with desire, desire that I would’ve repressed if I had been sober. I wanted this man more than I had ever wanted anything in my life, yet I was terrified and confused at the same time. I knew nothing about him, and I knew he understood even less about me. He had done awful things, things that had made me fear for my safety, and my wounded neck was proof of that. He was part animal.
And I still wanted him.
My drunken mouth made me brave enough to strive for a middle ground tonight.
“Tell me about your first wife,” I said, staring at my mirror. I couldn't see the king, but I could feel him tugging at my corset, the tightness around my ribs slowly loosening. It felt good to be able to breathe again.
“What would you like to know about her?” he replied.
To be fair, I wasn’t expecting an answer from him. It took me a moment to counter, and when I did, it was absolutely not the right question.
“Did you love her?” I asked.
“No, but I wanted to and I thought I could over time.”
“Was she a good wife?”
There was a pause. His hands stopped working.
“No, she wasn't. I thought she would be a good queen though. She was very proud and confident. She got what she wanted, and I assumed those would be good traits for a queen to have. People loved her far more than they loved me. That was why I picked her in the first place. Now, it’s my biggest regret.”
“What made her a bad wife?”
“Well, she did leave me in the mid
dle of the night for no reason. I would say that that would make any woman a bad wife. And prior to that, she was demanding and cold towards me. I tried to give her everything she wanted, but it was never enough. I should've known on our wedding night that she didn't truly want to be with me, but I was young and excited.”
“Was she a werewolf?”
His large hands settled on my hips, giving up on my corset, but I didn't mind because I could finally breathe again. The king was looking at me through the reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was the alcohol twisting in my head, but he didn't look angry or strict. His expression was softer and thoughtful. I decided it made him look heartbreakingly handsome, and having his attention so focused on me made me feel utterly beautiful.
“No, she was a human, like you.”
“Did you find her at the previous selection or did you know you were going to marry her before that?” I asked.
The king's brow furrowed, and his thumbs rubbed my hips through several layers of fabric. It was still enough to make me shiver.
“I was hoping to meet my mate at the selection, and when I didn't, I picked what I thought was the next best thing. I had known her for a long time. She came from a good family. We had played together often as children and flirted as teenagers. Everyone approved, so even if I wanted someone else, it didn't matter. Now, why weren't you at the first selection?”
“My master didn't want me to go. By the time the royal guards found out, you had been married so my master was simply fined,” I replied.
“What happened with my parents that made you feel obligated to get so drunk?” he asked, a note of disappointment in his voice.
“Do your parents know I'm human?” I blurted, avoiding his question.
“Yes.”
“Do they know I'm a slave?” I questioned, worried about their opinion. God knows a woman like the former queen could make demons out of regular folk with the snap of her finger.
The First Queen: A Shifter Romance Page 10
