The Alpha of Alareim

one

Chapter One

Reminder: pronunciations;

Caelia : Say-Lee-Ah
Alareim (the city) : Allah-Ryhme
Nymira : Nye-Meer-Ah
Felicitae : Fell-Ih-Sit-Ay
Cespar : Sess-Par
Laenala : Lay-Nah-Lah
Qesian: Keh-See-On

— • —

I let out a huff of air as my back straightens, done with the last counter. The grimy sponge between my fingers, I use my left hand to push back a stray strand of chestnut colored hair that hangs against my forehead.

"Done, Mama!" I smile proudly as my eyes dance upon each freshly cleaned wooden table-top, shining against the dimly-glowing overhead lights. My mother looks up from behind one of the two cash registers and smiles back after checking my work.

"Alright, Caelia, you're free to go. Here's your allowance," my middle aged mother says in a tired but happy voice. She counts some money from the register and holds out her hand. I reach across the counter with ease, cupping her warm, cracked hand. It is small like mine, callused from sweeping the floors both here and at home, and shows her age more than her jubilant face would allow. I look at the shillings in my hand as she takes hers away, giving mine two pats.

"Mama, this is ten shillings too many," I say, eyebrows raised," Have you grown so old your memory is slipping you?" I tease.

My mother rolls her blue eyes before saying," Oh, take it before I decide you don't deserve it anymore!"

I grin from ear to ear, lean over the counter to kiss her cheek, and am out of the door, not a moment wasted. I hear the bell sound from above the door before it shuts behind me. Quickly, I water the barrels of flowers that sit beneath the windows of the bakery, taking in their sweet fumes as I straighten out my white blouse. With a flush of embarrassment, I realize I'm still wearing my apron. I peep into the shop once more, catching my mother's amused eye as I hang it on the coat stand next to the door.

"Not again, Caelia?" She smirks," Perhaps your memory is slipping away!"

It's my turn to roll my eyes, as I exit the bakery once more. I admire the wooden sign that hangs above the door. Our bakery is the finest in Alareim, a title my family is proud of. Everyone in the city knows this, and hence why we are one of the better-off families living here. Not exactly high class, but far from the low. I make sure to thank the Moon Goddess for this every day. I know there are less fortunate souls in this city, ones who don't know when they will next have a roof over their heads.

My mother steps out of the shop, eyebrows raised as she sees me still here. "I would have thought for sure you would be at the market by now. You've forgotten your basket," she says as she hands it to me. It's a fine basket made from deep brown twigs sewn together tightly. At the moment it's empty lest the pale pink lining cloth.

"Oh," I frown as I grip the handle and watch my mother lock the family business.

My mother shakes her head at me, making a tsk noise. "Your memory is worse than mine and you're but a third my age, dear," she sighs. "Oh, and your father wanted me to tell you to grab a few carrots at the market," she hands me three more shillings," he linked me earlier."

"Okay, I'll be back before the sky is pink," I say, walking away from her in the direction of the center market.

"Try not to give all your money to the poor today, my love, treat yourself! See you at home!" She calls from over her shoulder, walking in the opposite direction. I watch her wave to my brunette elder sister, who waves at her and then me. She's come to walk with our mother back to our home.