Little Red's Riding

The Dinner Party

Dahlia sat at the long, splendidly filled dinner table and stared at her plate. If this had been a year earlier, she knew she would have been beside herself with joy at having been even allowed to walk inside such a fine dining hall. Now she was ready to burn the entire building to the ground if it meant that she had a chance at earning her freedom in the process. She was seated very near the head of the table, with her brother by her side.

It seemed that a great many people had come to dine with the city's Governor once word had spread that the regiment was passing through town this evening and that a couple of officers would be dining with the Governor. Dahlia had not realized how well known her brother was, but even as she tried to sink into the cocoon of sadness that being away from her mate naturally created around her, she could not help but be aware of the looks and whispers that had followed him as he escorted her to their seats near the governor's right hand.

It brought her the tiniest bit out of herself as she raised her head to see how many people were staring at this Captain of the Guards who was famous for one thing and one thing only.

Deckard was known for killing werewolves.

He had slaughtered her people. She ground her teeth together and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. How could he be the same boy who had laughed with her and thrown her piles of leaves and protected her from bullies? Her mind couldn't reconcile the two pictures that she had of him, one gentle and one tearing apart everything that she had come to hold dear since she had met her mate and realized that she was destined to be a Luna and care for a pack of people who were not quite human, but then she herself, was not quite human.

Her eyes drifted away from her brother and his many admirers and she found herself staring at her hands. They were small and for the most part smooth, the hands of someone who had not had to do a great deal of hard labor, although there were a few calluses that cut across her palms from some of the more vigorous chores she had had to do when she lived at home. "Not quite human," she said the words in such a low whisper she knew that even her brother sitting close beside her would not be able to hear them.

Raising her hand she pressed it to her chest, for the first time recognizing a strange emptiness that sat there, in the middle of her body, that had nothing at all to do with her mate. When she realized what it was she nearly cried out, out loud, instead raising her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.

The moment she recognized what it was the pain turned sharp, like a knife blade pressed against her very soul. It was strange to her, how it had been there all along, that exquisite pain, coloring everything that she'd ever done, but now that she recognized it and realized what it was, she felt as if her entire soul was being lashed with a cat o' nine tails over and over again, with every breath that she took. She'd thought that being separated from Silas was the worst pain, but this pushed the breath from her lungs.

Dahlia looked up and saw a man seated on the opposite side of the table. His eyes were fixed on her face as she bent forward ever so slightly, clutching her chest. Her movement itself was so slight that her brother hadn't even noticed it, he was so engaged in conversation with the woman on his other side, but the man across from her stared at her intently, a curious expression in his eyes.

How had she missed it before. One moment she was oblivious to this emptiness where her wolf should be and now she knew she would never not be aware of it again. Slowly, she forced her trembling hands down and folded them in her lap. When she looked up the man's eyes were still on her.

"Fräulein? Is everything all right?" His amber eyes were focused on her and she forced herself to look up at him again, meeting his steady gaze before nodding. His voice brought her brother's attention back to her abruptly from the blonde on his right who had placed her gloved hand on his forearm.