PREQUEL: Royal Ancestors

If Beatrice thought that Lord Bates’ mansion was extravagant, the palace was a thing of God-like beauty. It shimmered like gold with towers that came to a spear-like point as they reached up towards the sky. The car came to a stop in front of the arched double doors and Lord Hayes opened the door for Beatrice, offering her his hand. She hesitantly took it, allowing herself to be guided from the car.

“There are a few other women close to turning 18 from other orphanages here as well.” Lord Hayes said as he escorted her towards the doors, “You’ll be staying in one of the guest suites. At dinner time, you will all be presented to the Alpha King.” He went on to say.

“Yes, sir.” Beatrice mumbled.

Lord Hayes led her through the corridors of the castle. The floors were made of large cement stones, columns wrapped in white marble went from the floors and reached all the way up through the cathedral ceilings, the walls were made of the same dark stone and covered in windows; some were tall and arched at the top while others were in the shape of large circles.

There was a large spiral staircase that led up to the second floor of the castle, torches and lanterns littered the sides of the corridors. Lord Hayes continued down the hall, passing several doors before he opened one on the left. Beatrice expected another closet like she had at Lord Bates’ mansion, instead she was welcomed into an elaborate and grand bedroom.

“One of the ladies maids will be up with a new gown and they will return to inform you when dinner is ready.” Lord Hayes said, smiling kindly at Beatrice before leaving the room.

Beatrice walked around the room, observing the lush four poster bed that sat in the center of it. She pressed her hand into the mattress, she had never felt something so soft before. She thought about sprawling out on the mattress for just a second when a knock sounded on the door. She turned towards it, her hands beginning to shake as she wondered what she would have to do in order to remain in this bedroom.

A woman entered wearing a simple cotton gown and a white apron. She was carrying a bundle of fabric in her hands and had a sweet smile on her rosy red face.

“Hello, dear. I am here to help you prepare for dinner with his highness.” She smiled, setting a dress down on the soft bed Beatrice had just been admiring.

“That’s not necessary.” Beatrice said, “I can dress myself.”

“Nonsense, dear, the strings are quite hard to reach on one’s own.” The maid smiled. Beatrice was shocked, she had never seen a servant in such high spirits or in such good condition.

The woman helped Beatrice out of the ratty gown and gasped at what she saw. Beatrice was skin and bone, each individual rib was visible and her stomach was nearly nonexistent. Her skin was bruised and an odd gray color from years of being malnourished. There were scars covering her back, stomach, and breasts.

Beatrice bowed her head in shame as the maid attempted to recover herself. She hurried over to the bed and began picking up the pieces of the dress. She started with the nude corset, carefully wrapping the boney material around Beatrice’s brittle body. She did up the ties as loosely as possible to keep them from digging into her still fresh wounds.

“Are you alright, miss?” The maid asked as she tucked in the strings.

“I am fine.” Beatrice hissed between her clenched jaw, straining against the pain.

The maid picked up the nude slip next and then had her sit so she could roll the pantyhoes up Beatrice’s legs. Beatrice stood again as the maid brought over the dress. It was the most beautiful thing Beatrice had ever seen. It was a dark royal blue with full skirts, intricate lace detailing, and expensive looking embroidery. The maid helped Beatrice into the dress and tied up the back. She slipped a pair of blue flats onto her feet and then smiled admiringly at Beatrice.

“An early dinner will be ready in a few hours. I will return to collect you when it’s time.” The maid smiled, bowing at Beatrice before exiting the room.

Beatrice was afraid of ruffling the gown she now wore, so she didn’t dare lay down on the soft bed like she had wanted to. Instead, she sat on the stool in front of the vanity mirror and studied her reflection. She had hideous bags under her eyes, which were a dull, lifeless brown and her face was sunken in, making it seem like her cheekbones and jawline were etched into her skin.

Beatrice was surrounded by silence for the first time in two years and she felt herself succumbing to it. She propped her elbows on the table and leaned her head on her hands, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Miss, Miss. Beatrice!” Someone was gently shaking Beatrice’s shoulder, urging her from her slumber.

She gasped and shot off the table, jumping from the stool like a bat out of hell and searching around for the person who woke her up.

“I am sorry, Miss. Beatrice, but it’s time for dinner.” The maid said with a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, oh, yes.” Beatrice stammered, embarrassed by her reaction and embarrassed that she had fallen asleep.

“This way, miss.” The maid said, gesturing towards the open door.

Beatrice followed the maid from the room and back down the spiral staircase. Through the dark corridors they walked through the castle and towards the dining hall. The maid pushed open the heavy wooden door and led Beatrice into the room. There was a large sturdy looking table in the center of the room with at least thirty chairs sitting around it. There were already a dozen women seated at the table when Beatrice took her seat.

The women before her were all beautiful, much more beautiful than she was. They looked like they belonged in such a grand place wearing such expensive dresses. Beatrice wondered what kind of orphanage they had come from to not have her swollen eyes, frail body, and bruised bones.

Lord Hayes entered the room with three other men who were dressed just as finely as he was. He introduced them,

“Before you are the four most elite members of the royal guard. Neil Landry, Forrest Oxford, and Killian Greystone.” Lord Hayes said, gesturing towards the men.

They were all handsome looking men, tall, broad, and with powerful auras. Alaric Hayes had dark hair and olive skin with the eyes that were a unique mix of silver and blue. Neil Landry had chestnut colored hair and olive green eyes. Forrest Oxford had dark skin, hair, and eyes. Killian Greystone had black hair, equally dark skin, and green eyes.

“You are all here today because you are close to turning of age and you are in a position where, when you turn 18, you will no longer be in the King Alpha’s reach to be evaluated as his mate. It is the King Alpha’s hope that he will be able to sense his mate when she is not yet of age.” Lord Greystone explained to the ladies.

Everyone looked excited, everyone besides Beatrice. She was filled with dread and panic, but she didn’t know why.

“Please stand as your King Alpha approaches.” Lord Oxford instructs and the ladies all stand from their seats.

With each step that echoed off the stone floor of the castle, Beatrice’s heart thumped louder in her chest. She felt her breathing increase and her hands begin to shake. Something inside her was begging to be let out and it scared her deeply. She refused to look up when she sensed the presence of someone knew.

A deep voice cleared his throat, forcing Beatrice’s eyes upwards. She curtsied with the rest of the ladies just as her eyes landed on the new man in the room.

King Alpha Arlo Merriweather. He was twice as tall, twice as broad, and twice as powerful as the royal guard. A regal golden crown sat on top of his shaggy chestnut curls, his green eyes sparkling fiercely as they looked over the room. He clenched his hands into fists, causing his muscles to rippled against his deliciously tan skin. Beatrice felt her eyes widen and she couldn’t make herself look away from the handsome man in front of her.

King Alpha Arlo walked around the room, looking over each lady individually, hoping to feel some sort of spark or connection with one of them. This was the fifth batch of servants he had brought in over the course of a year and he was beginning to feel discouraged.

“She’s here.” Deacon, his wolf, whispered inside his mind.

“What?” Arlo froze midstep, his body going rigid.

“I can feel our mate and she is here. The connection is weak because she’s under age, but she’s definitely among these servants.” Deacon was beginning to pace in excitement.

Arlo started looking around the room with more urgency until his eyes landed on a woman of exquisite beauty. Behind her sunken cheeks, gray pasty skin, and pale lips was the beauty and grace of a queen, Arlo and Deacon could sense it.

“What happened to her?” Deacon growled.

“She’s the first servant we’ve gotten from Madam Grace.” Arlo replied, his jaw clenched in anger.

It was no secret that Madam Grace rented her servants out to the most unsavory men, Lords who other orphanages wouldn’t dare lease their ladies out to. No orphanage was guilt free or innocent, they all allowed unthinkable things to happen to their servants and they all sold the ladies out in the end for less than honorable purposes. But, none were more ill cared for than Madam Grace’s.

If this woman was indeed Arlo’s mate, Madam Grace would know pain that could be scarcely imagined.

“You may all go.” King Arlo said, waving his hand in one swift motion.

Everyone stood and the royal guard began to escort the ladies out.

“Besides you.” He added, clasping his hands behind his back as he approached the woman with worn hazel eyes, dull chestnut colored hair, and a frail body.

“Your highness.” Beatrice bowed her head in submission, refusing to look the King in his eyes.

King Arlo pinched her chin in between his fingers and tilted her eyes towards his. He searched her face for another sign that she was his mate and what he received was irrefutable. Her eyes came to life before him, swirling with a warm honey gold and rich forest green. A warmth came from her skin directly to his, melting his heart.

“What is your name?” He asked her.

“B…Beatrice Maison, your highness.” She whispered.

“Beatrice.” King Arlo purred her name and it was like music to his soul.

“Yes, sire.” He noticed how her bottom lip was quivering.

“Are you afraid?” Arlo asked her.

“N…no, sire.” She lied.

“You needn’t be afraid, my dear, you are safe with me.” He promised, gently cupping her face, “When do you turn 18?”

“In two weeks, your grace.” She whimpered.

“You shall remain here, in my care, until you turn of age. If you are indeed my mate, as I believe that you are, you will have your freedom.” Arlo said and her eyes went wide, “And, if you are not my mate, you will still have your freedom. Either way, I will buy you from the realm and you will have your life back. Should you agree to stay with me, that is.”