Page 15 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
My wolf let out a piercing wail, a sound that echoed in the depths of my soul, raw with despair and betrayal. She curled up in my mind, trembling—not from fear, but from the agony of being spurned by her mate. Her confusion mirrored mine: Why does he look at us like we’re nothing? Why is there no warmth, no recognition?
Her whimpers grew faint, as if she were fading, her spirit breaking under the weight of rejection. To be dismissed by one’s fated mate was a wound deeper than death. Her pain flooded me, merging with my own, making it hard to breathe. I bit my lip, tasting blood, fighting to hold back the tears. Last night’s connection—the way our souls had seemed to meld—had it all been a lie?
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
I looked up to see a young maid, her eyes soft with genuine concern, free of pity or judgment. She reminded me of Martha, and that small kindness steadied me.
“I’m just a bit dizzy,” I said, managing a weak smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tear tracks on my cheeks. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Susie, Your Highness,” she said kindly, tactfully ignoring my distress. “The air here can be dry. I was just coming to take you to your new quarters. Please, follow me.”
“My quarters?” I asked, blinking through blurred vision. “I thought I’d be staying with Perock.”
Susie shook her head gently. “The prince’s mate has her own residence. It’s a tradition.”
The words were a final blow, crushing the last of my fragile hopes. Emptiness settled in my chest, hollow and heavy. But the rumors about Perock slithered back into my mind, venomous and unrelenting.
The wife-killer. This epithet is so heavy and ominous.
They said his previous wives had vanished or died under mysterious circumstances. My wolf insisted he was our fated mate, that the connection last night was real, but my rational mind screamed caution. What if the rumors were true? What if getting close to him meant death? Perhaps separate quarters were a mercy, a way to keep my heart—and my life—safe from the torment of longing and fear. I clung to that thought, trying to soothe the ache within.
I followed Susie silently through the winding corridors to a quieter wing of the castle. The rooms here were still grand, but they felt distant, more like an elegant guest suite than a home. As we passed a group of maids, I caught their whispers— “the full-moon bride”—followed by stifled laughter.
Humiliation and anger flared in my chest, my face burning. I’d endured years of mockery as a slave, swallowing every insult, every slight. But I was done bowing my head. I wasn’t just a slave anymore—I was a person, with dignity, with a right to be respected.
“Wait,” I said, stopping and turning to face the maids. My voice was calm but clear.
They looked up, startled, clearly not expecting me to speak.
I stepped closer, meeting their eyes. “I know what you think of me, and I understand my position here. But I am not your entertainment.”
I took a deep breath, my tone growing firmer. “And more importantly, I am your princess now. Is this how you treat your princess?”
The maids froze, their smug expressions dissolving into fear and regret.
“Your Highness…” the lead maid stammered, her voice trembling. “We… we were wrong. Please forgive our rudeness.”
The others bowed their heads, murmuring apologies. “We’re sorry, Your Highness. We shouldn’t have spoken like that.”
“You shouldn’t,” Susie said sharply, then turned to me. “Your Highness, how would you like to handle this?”
I looked at the maids, their heads bowed, hands clutching their skirts. They reminded me of myself at Thornfield—small, powerless, at the mercy of others. I didn’t want to be like Viossi, wielding cruelty to feel strong. I was Lilia, and I would choose my own path.
“Let it be a lesson,” I said quietly. “Don’t let it happen again.”
The maids looked up, surprised, and Susie raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my leniency.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” the lead maid said, her voice genuine, almost relieved.
The rest of the walk was silent, free of whispers.
“Here are your quarters, Your Highness,” Susie said, smiling as she opened the door and gently closed it behind me.
I stood alone in the center of the unfamiliar room, a wave of loneliness crashing over me. Nothing had changed, had it? At Thornfield, I was a slave. Here, I was Perock’s wife. But I wasstill a pawn, my life dictated by others. The only difference was that now, I had fallen in love with my captor.
Once Susie left, I let the tears I’d held back spill over. I cried silently—for my situation, for the fleeting illusion of belonging, for the sting of betrayal. Last night, when Perock held me in his arms, I had believed I’d found my place, my home.
But the truth was brutal. This marriage was everything to me, but to him, it was merely duty. Worse, even if I wanted to tell him the truth—that I wasn’t Viossi, that I was Lilia, a slave, an orphan—the curse would stop me, shattering my heart if I tried.