Moonfire Bride: The One they all betrayed...till she awakened

Malachi stopped before a pair of massive black doors carved with ancient wolf symbols and Della assumed it was a council chamber from the way the door looked.

But there were no guards stationed around here. All over the castle they were guards stationed at least every fifteen steps, but she noticed there were none all the way down this hallway.

Malachi then reached out and placed a hand on the doorknob, then he gave her a sharp look.

Her stomach dropped. Was this actually...his room?

Holy hell...how big was it exactly from the inside?

Her curiosity didn’t go any further as she heard hurried, but light footsteps approaching them. Unlike those leather boots, this one sounded like she was barefoot.

A maid appeared moments later. She looked young, perhaps a few years older than Della, and immediately lowered her head the moment she saw Malachi.

”Alpha.”

”Take her,” Malachi said, barely acknowledging her.

The maid blinked, then she carefully looked toward Della as though she hadn’t seen her there before.

Her eyes fell on the slave collar around her neck, the bruises on her face, and down to her swollen ankle.

Recognition flashed briefly across her face, since of course news of Alpha Malachi had been spreading amongst the Kingdom about him marrying a rotblood, even before they arrived.

”Prepare a room for her,” Malachi continued coldly, ”Then take her to the south fields. Once the sun starts to go down, she heads down to the Workrooms,”

Della stiffened.

Fields? Workrooms?

The maid looked surprised too, ”The south fields, Alpha?” She asked.

Malachi’s gaze shifted toward Della’s ankle for only a second, and such briefness was something most wolves would have missed.

Della didn’t.

”She starts work today.” He stated with a flat voice, ”See that she’s capable of doing so.”

The maid immediately understood him, ”Yes, Alpha.”

Della understood too, well enough to know that he wasn’t ordering kindness. He was making sure his new slave didn’t collapse before beginning her punishment.

The realisation sat bitterly in her chest, but at least she had seen it coming the moment he collared her.

Malachi finally pushed open the doors, and darkness spilt from inside the room. Without turning around, he added, ”Keep her occupied,”

The doors shut behind him, leaving Della staring at him. He had said the word, ’Occupied’ as though she were some kind of troublesome animal.

The urge to scream and insult his stupid face was right on the tip of her tongue, but if she wanted to live to see another day for Lian, she would have to control that tongue.

The maid then cleared her throat nervously, ”Um... if you’ll follow me?”

Della did. What choice did she have?

Her room wasn’t what she expected, which meant it wasn’t the worst. It wasn’t exactly luxurious, but a small chamber tucked between the servants’ wing and the Royal wing.

As she walked in and stared, tears almost ran down her cheeks. It had stone walls, a narrow bed, a small wash basin and a wooden chest. And a small window that overlooked a part of the castle.

It basically had everything her former room didn’t have.

”My name is Mara,” The maid said quietly once the door closed behind them.

”Mara,” Della repeated with a nod.

For a moment neither spoke, then Mara carefully approached, ”I have to say, your ankle looks awful.”

”It’ll survive.” Della looked away.

Mara snorted softly, ”No offence, but it looks like it’s trying not to.”

The comment caught Della off guard, and she arched a brow. That happened to be the first hint of good humor towards her she’d heard in so many days.

Perhaps weeks.

Mara filled a wooden tub with warm water and excused herself out of the room so Della could take a bath.

Della took off her clothes and slid silently into the water, and the bath felt almost painful. Not because of the heat, but because she couldn’t remember the last time she was offered something that felt so... calming.

Back in IronRidge, servants were allowed to bathe at least four times a week, but Evangeline had strictly made sure she never got one at her doorsteps, saying she would taint their precious waters. Most times, she would have to sneak some bath water for Lian to wash up.

A few minutes later, Mara returned and helped clean the wound. The moment the cloth touched the swollen skin Della nearly bit through her tongue.

Moon above...it hurt!

”Endure,” Mara said softly as she carefully applied some herbs and fresh wrappings.

The pain eased a bit, and Della felt some relief of pain.

When she finally finished, she stepped back, ”There.”

Della stared at the bandages, then back up at Mara, ”Thank you.”

Mara looked surprised, as though she wasn’t used to hearing those words, then she quickly looked away.

”We should go.” She said.

”Go where?”

”The fields.”

Della’s stomach sank.

Right.

The punishment.

The South fields stretched farther than Della could see, and workers moved between rows of crops beneath the afternoon sun.

Some were carrying baskets, while others hauled water. The baskets looked at least three times bigger than whoever was carrying it, but then, it was just the right amount of weight for a wolf.

The moment Della walked into the field, several wolves stopped working entirely, and whispers spread instantly.

”That’s her.”

”The Moonfire woman,”

”The traitor, right?”

”The one Alpha married.”

”No...”

Someone laughed.

”The one he collared.”

The whispers followed her like insects, and Della lowered her gaze and kept walking beside Mara.

”What am I to do here?” Della whispered.

Before Mara could answer, a man detached himself from the workers and approached them. He was middle-aged, broad-shouldered and weathered. His beard had begun turning gray around the edges, and years beneath the sun had left deep lines across his face.

His name, according to the badge stitched onto his work tunic, was Garrick.

His eyes swept over Della slowly as he stopped in front of her — a little too slowly if she may add. It made her skin crawl, and even Mara awkwardly looked away.

”So.” His lips curled, ”The famous Rotblood.”

Della said nothing, standing there like a trapped livestock as Garrick circled her once. His eyes tracked over every inch of her body like a meal he was secretly planning to devour, and the collar around her neck seemed to amuse him greatly.

”Never thought I’d see Alpha Malachi take a wife.” He continued, then his gaze dropped briefly to her butt and rose again, ”And certainly not one like this.

Della immediately wished he would stop looking at her. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

Instead, his smile widened and his voice immediately grew loud enough for nearby workers to hear, ”Good news. You won’t be working with the women.”

A few workers glanced over.

”You’ll be hauling stone,”

Della blinked. Stone?

Garrick pointed toward a distant section of the fields where several large carts sat there, each one loaded with heavy rocks. It was far heavier than anything she could carry with her human strength, and even worse with her injured ankle.

”Those need moving before sunset.” The smile never left his face, ”If you’re Alpha’s wife, I’m sure you’ll manage.

Laughter erupted from nearby workers, but she wasn’t even worried about them anymore. She looked at the carts, then at her ankle, then at the middle-aged man with a stupid grin on his face.

She was well aware that he wasn’t assigning work, but testing how much suffering she could endure before she broke.

What he didn’t know was that she was already broke.

.

.

.

Garrett had clearly underestimated her, because Della finished it faster than he had anticipated. Biting through the pain in her leg, and forcing whatever amount of wolf strength she could somehow muster from her veins, she had dragged the carts of stone across the field, one by one.

Sweat covered her body, her eyes almost bed from exhaustion and weakness, and her ankle, even though it was now aching even worse than before, had held. At some point, she thought it might shatter.

By the time she was done, the sun was already beginning to set. She leaned against the last cart, breathing heavily. Her head was spinning, and she could hardly feel her joints anymore.

Standing across the field, Garrett had a scorn on his face.

”Della,”

Della looked up and saw Mara standing there. She glanced down at Della’s leg, then back up at her.

”You lived,” She said, ”Come with me, I’ll redo your leg before we head to the Workrooms,”

Della almost fainted. After dragging stones for hours, she was still going to have to go to the Workrooms too? She instantly cursed Malachi in her head over and over again. The man was a goddamn demon!

She looked down at her hand. There were several cuts and bruises all over them, and when she looked up again, she was glaring at Garrett.

”You shouldn’t do that,” Mara warned, watching her closely, ”Unless you want to be dragging something heavier than stone,”

She was right. As much as Della wanted to gouge out his eyes, she was in no position to do so. In this world, people like her that were considered lower than trash, had no other option but to lick other people’s shoes.

They began leaving, and just as Della passed Garrett, something struck her sharply across the backside, and Della froze.

Did he just...?

Garrett’s hand was already falling back to his side as though nothing had happened, ”Move along,” He said lazily.

Nobody looked surprised, instead they simply lowered their head again as though it was an everyday occurrence.

Her hands twitched by her sides, and every instinct screamed at her to grab the nearest stone and smash it on his head.

This never happened back at IronRidge. No man had ever laid his hand on her that way, since everyone believed even touching her would taint their blood.

But here... Eclipse Crown was truly different indeed.

”What?” Garrett locked eyes with her when he saw her glaring, and his gaze swept over her from head to toe, ”You planning on reporting me to someone? Who would believe the words of a traitor?”

Della’s fingers curled into fists, but she didn’t pick up the stone, knowing exactly how it would end.

Garrett saw the realization settle into her eyes and his grin widened, ”That’s what I thought.” He murmured.

”Come on,” Mara said quietly and grabbed Della’s hand, pulling her back into the castle.

”You should be grateful, Rotblood.” Della heard him say again as they left, ”That ass was begging to be slapped,”

She could still feel his gaze on her back.

The words earned a few uncomfortable laughs from nearby workers. And somehow, for the first time since arriving at Eclipse Crown, she found herself wishing Malachi had been there.

Not that he was gonna do a damn thing about it!

”Mara,”

Silence.

Della looked at Mara and saw that the servant was looking lost and empty. She just kept staring ahead as she walked like there was nothing left to give. It was almost the kind of look Della used to have all the time, and it was the first time she was seeing it in someone else’s face.

Now that Della was thinking about it, Mara had the same when she had first approached her. She was looking so lost she didn’t notice Della was also standing there till Malachi had said it.

”Mara,” Della tried again, and this time the maid looked at her.

”Did you call me?”

Della wanted to ask if Garrett was like this to everyone, especially the part where he had touched her inappropriately, but she decided to let it go because Mara seemed... out of it.

”Don’t worry,”

They headed back to Della’s room, and this time, Mara quickly applied a fresh badge of herbs and wrapped the leg once again, then, they were on their way to the Workrooms.

They left the servant quarters and continued deeper into the castle. The farther they went, the older everything seemed. The polished halls and grand stone corridors slowly disappeared, replaced by narrow passageways lined with shelves, crates and stacks of folded fabric.

Even the usual smell of expensive oils and polished stone disappeared, replaced with the smell of wool.

Wool, dye, leather, dust, hot metal, sweat, and work.

Lots of it.

Voices echoed ahead as they approached a heavy wooden door, and Mara pushed it open.

The noise from inside filled the hall, and Della’s eyes widened as they walked in. Women and men moved everywhere carrying bundles of fabric, repairing clothing, polishing armor straps, sewing banners, and mending blankets and sorting supplies.

Everyone had been assigned to do something. The entire place looked like a machine.

And of course, every single person inside turned to stare at her and the whispers started immediately.

Della didn’t lower her eyes this time, because she was already getting used to them.

”If you’ve all finished gawking, perhaps you’d like to finish your work?” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the room, and silence fell everywhere.

A woman stepped forward, and Della was the one gawking this time. She’s never seen someone so tall before. Her dark hair was streaked heavily with gray and tied into a tight knot behind her head.

Absolutely nothing about her looked soft, especially the scar that ran right through the middle of her face.

She carried a wooden measuring rod beneath one arm like a weapon, and her name was switched to the chest of her uniform.

Cornelia.

The woman’s gaze landed on Della, then slowly drifted down to the collar.

Della sighed. Why does everyone around here always have to look at the collar too?

”They sent me a famous one this time,” She said, and Della almost thought a man had just spoken.

No, it was only Cornelia with her manly voice.

Della remained silent.

Good.

Cornelia clearly appreciated silence.

”Can you sew?” The older woman asked.

”Yes, I can,” Della replied.

”Can you polish, mend and sort?”

”I can,”

”Good, you’ll be cleaning,”

”Clean?” Della blinked.

Cornelia pointed toward the far end of the room, and some workers immediately smirked.

Della followed the direction of her finger, and her eyes almost popped out from what she saw. It was a mountain of piles of dusty fabric scraps, broken tools, discarded thread, damaged banners and torn canvas stacked nearly to the ceiling.

”You’ll sort all of it.”

Della stared in horror, ”Tonight?”

”You are not a wolf, so I’ll give you five days to finish it all,”

Five days was better than one night, but it was still not enough.

Della then limped toward the pile, still perplexed. How could they have allowed it to have piled up to this extent?

A banner hanging by the side caught her eye, and she couldn’t help but look at it. It was large, black with the insignia of the Pack stitched on it.

It was beautiful workmanship, except that there was a mistake.

The stitching along the lower edge was completely wrong.

She limped closer to take a better look, hoping it was just messy. But it was definitely wrong.

A strange feeling settled into her stomach.

The banner wasn’t damaged. It looked new, infact, but someone had stitched it incorrectly.

Very incorrectly.

Della slowly reached toward the fabric.

”What are you doing?” Cornelia snapped.

Della turned to her and pointed, ”It’s this banner,”

”What about it?”

”The stitching is...wrong.”

Several workers exchanged amused looks, and one actually laughed but instantly shut up the moment Cornelia threw him a glare.

”And how exactly is it wrong?” Cornelia asked, folding her arms.

Della pointed carefully toward a section near the center, ”The reinforcement thread was placed across the weight line.”

A few workers frowned.

”When it’s hung outside, wind pressure will pull here first.” Her finger traced along the fabric, ”Then here, then lower. Eventually the entire crest will tear down the middle.”

Nobody spoke, and Cornelia’s expression shifted slightly as she approached the banner and also took a good look at it. Then, she frowned, ”Slave girl, I don’t know what you think you see, but I stitched this banner myself. Every single stitch was handcrafted by me for the upcoming Sovereign Moon,”

”Ma’am I mean no disrespect but...,”

”Then I shouldn’t hear another word from you!!” Cordelia snapped, ”Now get to work!”

If Della didn’t know any better, she would have just let it go. But these little details were not to be overlooked, especially if the banner was going to be used for such an important pack event.

But then again, Cordelia was much more experienced than her in these aspects, and so if the woman claimed nothing was wrong with the banner, Della wouldn’t touch it.

Still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something terrible was going to happen the moment that banner was lifted.

The stitching was wrong.

She knew it.

It was the same way she always knew when cloth would tear before it happened. The same way she knew when fabric had been repaired improperly, and the same way she could always tell when old ceremonial robes had hidden damage beneath the lining, or even ancient artifacts.

It wasn’t a guess.

She simply knew.

And that knowledge sat heavily in her stomach for the whole evening. Could she really turn a blind eye to this? Well, she has to.

Since she had plans of escaping tonight!