Zion

Power is something that confuses me still. People want it, yes, I can fully understand that, but it’s the sheer determination some have that completely messed with my head. I will agree, power is something everyone, at least once, dreams about, whether it’s about standing up to the bully and putting him in his place or running a country set by your rules. But the determination some people have to gain it makes me wonder if everyone can be trusted.

As I stand here, alone, within the walls of the palace, the pale moonlight shining upon my face, I think of the boy who broke my heart.

Your mate always holds a place in your heart, whether rejected, loved, tolerated, or even hated, they will always share a small section of your heart, or maybe even your whole heart. That’s something fate does to make you either love it, or detest it. Ever since my rejection I think about him, the boy who wanted nothing to do with me, the boy who I don’t know why he wanted me gone. We never even knew each other to be honest, to me he was just the Alpha’s son and someone who many people respected and loved. I was in that bandwagon, respecting him for who he was to be and loving him because I knew that love and loyalty connect. I knew that one day I would need to be loyal to him.

Leaning my head against the cold stone wall, I close my eyes, listening to the sounds of the gentle lake, how the wind causes leaves to fall into the lake, my wolf picking up the sound of those small splashes that go unnoticed to humans.

The breeze kisses my skin, the nighttime air feeling amazing against my clean skin, my once wet hair now almost fully dry as I weave my fingers through it. Fifteen minutes ago I popped out of the shower ready for bed, only to discover I had no desire to shut my eyes just yet. So, here I sit, against the wall on a balcony someone on one of the many towers, exhausted from today.

Diner was awkward, filled with silence as the King and I ate in silence, the only concentration held was with our eyes. I could always feel his eyes burning holes in my head, his eyes upon me, watching every move I made. Sometimes I would meet his stare, my glance making his eyes brighten up, only for me to look away as I went back to my meal. After diner I tried again to get my phone, asking for it, trying to contact my parents and tenant, only for a resounding no and the end of the discussion only started.

By the time I was back to my room, the King had told me goodnight, but I knew he wanted to say more, to say words that would only cause me to fall faster into a pit of confusion with no escape. I do not know what game his plays at, why he wants to do this. He says I am his, he says he wants me to love him, yet he still tells me nothing as to why. He has to have a mate, I doubt he’s mateless, as that happens to those only blessed by the moon goddess to become warriors, legendary fighters who abide by her will and dedicate their life to her, to protect her creations. Warriors appear very rarely and hardly ever are seen around other wolves. The King has to either of rejected his mate, has his mate somewhere, not met her yet, or she died, though I doubt the last one, for the King is all too lively to have lost his mate.

The sound of something breaking causes me to open my eyes quickly, snapping my head up to see a figure, hands over their mouth as a vase lays upon the floor, shattered. The maid is small, blond hair, brown eyes, trembling with fear as the vase, which I remember being next to the balcony archway, one painted by elves, now lays upon the floor, broken to the point of no return.

“My Lady Sybil, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to, my Lady, it was dark and-

“You didn’t disturb me,” I reply, getting to my feet as I watch her head bow. I frown at that. “Let’s clean it up.”

“My Lady?”

Why is she confused. “Yes?” Her eyes are wide, her skin pale as she watches me move forward, only for her to flinch away. “Are you okay?”

“You are no mad I broke the vase?” she asks, amazed and hopeful. I shake my head, kneeling down to gather to sharp pieces into a pile, using the sleeves of my sweater to protect my hands. “My Lady, that vase was over two hundred years old.”

“I doubt the King will notice, and if he does, send him to me,” I inform, watching as she becomes a bit more comfortable. Two hundred year old vase gone to the trash, why would you keep such an expensive vase by the archway of a balcony? Oh, right, it’s probably the most basic one around here.

Another two hours are spent walking around, following the moonlight throughout the castle as I make my way to the throne room, the doors shut as two guards make sure it stays locked. In the throne room, about eleven maids are sweeping, mopping, dusting, polishing, and other crazy cleaning things as they work through the night, trying to not make a single sound.

“Lady Sybil,” a voice calls out, one from behind. Turning around, I raise an eyebrow, looking at the middle-aged male, one who wears some weird uniform. A navy blue uniform, pants that are tucked into boots and a shirt, one that looks more like a military one, the material thick. “I’m to escort you to the Silver Tower.”

Silver Tower? I’ll find out soon enough anyway, no doubt the King is there. No one else would request my presence anyway.

Turns through various halls and the man stops right before a set of wooden doors, a silver handle on each as he bows his head. “I am not permitted to go any further,” he informs, opening the door for me to see a dim room. Thanking him, I step through, the cold greeting my rather underdressed self of what Marisa said was also from my apartment. Black leggings and a thin, woven gray sweater, paired with gray socks and damp hair. No doubt they are from my place, and no doubt Marisa hates them, for every time she sees something of mine, she cringes. Not the typical silks she’s used to seeing.

The door shuts behind me and I’m met with another circular room, bookshelves going up one side, all the way up four stories, looking like collectibles, a tall and narrow window going up the whole way as well, and as every floor goes up, more room is given as a small balcony where some type of furniture is. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, one lit by candles as I take in the scent of pines needles, only to greet that familiar and intoxicating scent.

“Third floor,” he greets, not even bothering to look down at me as I start my way up, climbing the stairs as I groan.

“Don’t you get tired of stairs? Why not an elevator or something?”

He chuckles as I find him on a armchair, a dark green leather, and what appears to be a small glass of (my guess) whiskey. “Drink?” I look to the wall to see a small bookshelf filled with alcohol and a few beautiful glasses.

“I’d rather get this conversation over with.”

“Fine,” he snaps, taking down the rest of his drink in one as he leans back, and just like that, I’m aware that he’s not in the usual suit and jacket attire, but a pair of expensive men’s pajama pants, a think black t-shirt, and silky black night robe. “I want a name.”

“I may not know it,” I reply, taking a seat on a plush bench beside a row of law books.

“Name of mate?”

I get up immediately, frowning as I show my back to him, walking down the stairs in furry as I hear him groan in annoyance. No way in hell am I letting him get involved in that affair.

Suddenly, I’m grabbed from behind on the second floor, my back colliding with a chest as my wolf threatens to break loose. “You asshole.”

I slap my hands over my mouth, feeling the rage come off of him. He releases me, causing me to take steps back, turning around as I see the King about to lose control. Immediately I bow my head, even kneeling before him as I take full submissive and respectful citizen of his kingdom, closing my eyes as I feel fear build up within me. I just pray he does not kill me. We stay silent, I can still sense him trying to control the beast within.

Suddenly, he lets out a deep breath, walking forward as I feel fingers run through my hair. “If you were someone else right now, my dear Sybil,” he begins, suddenly yanking on my hair, causing me to cry out as I meet his stare, “you would be fed to the crows.”

Tears begin to build up as I nod my head, wanting to erase the words I spoke to him. Never, not in a million years, would I think I would call my King an asshole. Goddess, packs are allowed to slaughter members who disrespect the King in anyway that they see fit. My parents could disown me for that one word. “I am so sorry, your Majesty, I was not thinking nor believe that I deserve any kind of forgiveness.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Sybil,” he roars, pulling me to my feet as I cry out in fear, watching him as he holds me close to him, his eyes completely black. “Don’t give me the bullshit where you act like some average citizen. I don’t want that from you. I don’t care if you were taught that as how to apologize to your King, don’t do that ever again.” I only nod my head, too scared to reply as he sighs, suddenly pulling me against him, pulling me in for a hug as I’m shocked. “Say something.”

“I should not have said that word,” I whisper, feeling his nose trace my jugular vein, his warm breath upon my neck as I shudder.

“We need to get you some clothes,” he mutters, changing the subject as I only nod, too afraid to say the wrong words again. I only wish I know when this will end, when he will let me go home. He breathes in my scent, resting his head on my shoulder as I wrap my arms around him, the silk of his robe making my arm hair feel weird. What a weird thought to have. “Tomorrow have someone-

“Please don’t, I don’t want you to go through all of that trouble for something so temporary.” He growls, making me find error in my words as he holds me closer. “I’m fine with some jeans and sweaters for now.”

He doesn’t say another word as he holds me there, in his arms, and as he doesn’t, I can feel his eyes grow heavy, and so do mine. Both exhausted from the day and our little episode from before, I accept that I will be here longer than I thought, and that I may just have to get used to this.

But get used to what? The confusion within my brain? The King as he says he wants me but does not express why? I don’t know why I am here, but I know, as he mutters that I should probably head back to my room, that I’ll need to accept this as my life....until I find a way out.