Moon of Misfortunes

27

We move through the dimly lit corridors, the sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The castle's grandeur is undeniable, but it's clear it hasn't seen a proper renovation in years. Faded tapestries depict ancient battles and royal ceremonies, their colors dulled by time.

"I bet this place was magnificent in its prime," I say, running my fingers along the cool stone of the walls. 

Rubio nods. "It's seen a lot of history." 

We continue down the hallway, turning corners and passing through archways. The deeper we go, the more I notice the castle's decay. Cracks snake through the stone walls, and the once grand chandeliers hang slightly askew, their crystals worn with age. 

"I can't believe the Queen lived here like this," I say, scrunching my nose. "Everything is old and dated."

"Just like her," Rubio chuckles.

We continue our walk through the castle's labyrinthine halls until we reach a grand entrance guarded by Rosia's sentries. They lead us up to what was once the Queen's parlor, now overtaken by Rosia. The room, though grand, is still stuck in a bygone era, with heavy drapes, ornate furniture, and the lingering scent of old books.

A tea kettle sits between us, flanked by honey, milk, and sugar. Rosia pours the tea as we take in our surroundings, the weight of history pressing down on us.

"Come, sit," she urges, pushing the mugs forward. Hesitantly, I take mine, adding honey and milk to suit my taste. Rubio, however, refuses to touch his as he settles into his seat.

"Straight to business as usual, Rubio," she remarks, giving him a once-over. He only nods in response. She sighs, setting her mug down on the table with a gentle clink.

"I know you both don't want to go back. Hell, if I were in your position, I'd burn the place down," she admits, a hint of sympathy in her voice. "But I need your help. After this, I will help you reclaim your land and pack if you need it."

Rosia's words replay in my head, each one cutting deeper as I confront the harsh reality of our situation. It feels as if my sanity is on trial, each word a witness against me. Rubio's gentle touch on my lower back grounds me, silently urging me to face Rosia.

"I don't want to go back to that shithole," I spit out, disgusted.

She grinned at my outburst, her eyes glinting with amusement. "So, you're angry that I assigned you to lead the High Council of Lycans. Most would consider it an extreme honor to land such a position."

"Well, I don't," I retort, my voice rising with frustration. "I refuse to go back there. I don't want to return to that palace. I suffered there. I almost died there," I emphasize, my emotions raw and unfiltered.

"Stop being melodramatic," she replies, dismissing my feelings with a wave of her hand. "You were never in any real danger."

"Never in any real danger," I snorted, "I lost my pups in that house! They hung me for fuck's sake! Do you not care about any of that?"

"This is pathetic, Adaline," Rosia spat, her eyes narrowing with disdain. "I know what happened within the walls of that palace. My men were embedded within the Council, especially in their security. You need to understand that if I didn't care, you would've been burned alive and beheaded. Is that what you wanted instead?" She leaned in, her voice cold and unforgiving. "I thought you would have been alright to oversee the new High Council. You could ensure that no one would experience the unfair treatment you received during your trial. But I guess you're not strong enough to be a leader."

Her words hit me like a slap, igniting a fire of anger and defiance within me. "I am strong enough for leadership—"

"Then it's settled," she interrupted, dismissing my protests. "You and Rubio will oversee the formation of the new Council. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important business to attend to."