Page 111 of The Ashpaw: Part One

Darion’s eye twitched, almost imperceptibly, but she continued, undeterred.

“You promised me attention and left me alone all day. You promised me a nest and yet it remains bare. So tell me why I should believe you have anything close to resembling my safety and happiness in mind when, if left under your care alone, I would die in a locked room and you would not even know until the guards complained of the smell?”

For a moment, she almost saw regret flicker across his face.

But then his jaw tightened and his back straightened. “I will not stand to have mistakes which I have already apologized for used against me like weapons by the she-wolf who should bring me peace.”

“I cannot bring you that which I do not have, Darion!” she yelled, and he stomped towards her, his arm back as though he meant to strike her.

She closed her eyes to wait for the blow, hoping it would be hard enough to end this for good. Or at least be enough for his father to take one look at her and give her to another alpha.

But instead, he breathed deeply, and lowered his face until his mouth was near her ear.

“I think you need some time alone to think about your actions. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Fern said nothing, and then his hand gripped her neck again.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” he hissed.

When the pain finally got to be too much to bear, she let out a whimpered, “Aye.”

He shook her once. “Good.”

Then he released her, turned around and walked out, locking her in without another word.

Silence quickly filled the space he had taken moments earlier, and Fern’s legs felt weak as the full ramifications of her defiance finally became clear.

He really would lock her in here until he bothered to remember she existed again, and she wasn’t sure if she could count on the other alphas to help her.

As she took stock of what her room actually contained for the first time, a knock sounded at the door, and her heart leapt, hoping stupidly it was Darion, come back to apologize.

“Lady Fern, I am Serich, the healer for the castle.”

Well, at least he didn’t entirely plan on neglecting her, then.

“Alpha Reinn sent for me.”

Oh… perhaps he did.

“May I enter?”

Fern’s eyes burned, and she held a deep breath to ward off the impending sob. “I don’t have the key, I’m afraid.”

“The guard will let me in,” he replied. “I merely wanted your permission.”

Permission? The despair was quickly replaced by incredulity, a barking laugh breaking through the sadness.

No one had ever asked for her permission for anything here.

“Aye, of course.”

Serich entered promptly, carrying a small basket of supplies.

She recognized him as a Lurvekh, though groomed differently than the wolfkin who normally sat in the dining hall. His blonde hair was cut above the chin in the style that human men typically preferred, his face clean-shaven.

“I understand you have some scratches that need cleaning?”

When Fern nodded, he told her to lie down on the bed, and after asking for permission again, began peeling away the tattered remains of the gown, the fabric needing to be removed carefully after sticking to the dried blood.