Claimed by the Fallen King

Evelyn

I thought a few days with my family would be a mercy, but it turns out that accepting a rejection from one’s mate results in a few days of agony as the body and mind adjust to the new reality. Instead of a few days more of making memories with my parents, it’s been a few days bedridden while my parents cry over both my current state and the future I can’t escape.

I lay in my bed, shuddering in pain, shivering beneath a mountain of blankets even as I sweat through the first few layers. It’s as if my body no longer knows how to regulate itself.

I doubt Lucas knew this would happen. Rejections are so uncommon, especially among werewolves who are typically banded together against lycans. My mother had to call a healer after the first day for fear that I was dying.

It was the healer who informed us that the symptoms would pass in three days.

I’d be wishing for day four, for the symptoms to pass, if day four wasn’t also the day I’ll be taken to the lycan king as his sacrifice.

“We’ll leave, all three of us,” Mom murmurs from where she sits at my bedside. Tears track down both our cheeks – mine in pain, hers in concern.

“Mom,” I groan in pain and annoyance. We’ve had this conversation so many times over the last seventy-two hours. My parents keep offering to leave the pack, to escape this terrible fate with me.

But a werewolf without pack affiliation is vulnerable to lycan cruelty. After the war, werewolves learned to survive through community, through coming together against a common enemy. We protect each other.

Without the protection of a pack, we would become rogues. Then all three of us would be in danger instead of just me. I won’t implicate them.

“Then you go,” she sniffles. “Anything has to be better than certain death at the hands of an uncontrollable tyrant. At least you’ll have a chance.”

I shake my head slowly, hating how the movement causes the room to spin. “They’ll interrogate you to find me.”

“Don’t tell us where you’re going.” She wipes at her tears. “Easy solution.”

“They’ll torture you,” I argue.

She knows I’m right, and she cries harder. Not because she’s afraid of being tortured, but because she knows I won’t risk her safety to protect myself.

“Here we are.” Dad nudges my bedroom door open with his shoulder as he brings in a tray holding three bowls of steaming soup. Tears come faster as the scent hits me.

Chicken dumpling soup. My favorite.

This is it. The past three days have been me, a mess in bed, Mom, unable to leave my side, and Dad, unable to keep still. Both of them trying desperately to find some way to help me.

I listen to every idea, every option, express gratitude for every gift and kindness, even if I’ve already accepted my fate.

So I enjoy these last moments with them, as much as I can while consumed by the dual torment of physical and mental agony.

The next morning, I wake without chills or sweats or despair, just like the healer promised. And lycan soldiers knock on the door at the break of dawn, just like Lucas promised.

I can hear them downstairs, demanding that I leave immediately. Mom, who slept in the armchair next to my bed, wakes in a panic, wrapping me in a defeated hug. She whispers final words to me while we listen to my father leading the soldiers up the stairs.

“Survive,” she demands. “Find a way to escape the lycan king. Find a way home to us.”

Then the lycan soldiers are gripping my shoulders roughly, dragging me away while my mother shrieks and cries into my father’s protective embrace.

The soldiers add me to a carriage packed with other unmated women, all of us sent in batches to the lycan royal palace. I study the women around me, noting that most of them seem filled with despair for their future, clearly understanding the likelihood of death. To my surprise though, some women are as well coifed and made up as I was on the day of my mate ceremony.

They’re ambitious. Hoping to become the lycan king’s Luna.

I have heard rumors. Years ago, King Alexander of the lycans conquered the werewolves in a long-forgotten war and became king of these lands. The position of his Luna though has always remained vacant.

It’s said that the king lost control of his wolf because he hasn’t found his true Luna. As his wolf became gradually uncontrollable, King Alexander turned into a cruel tyrant. Now no one can defeat the out-of-control lycan king.

And the only way to find the elusive true Luna is through the annual sacrificial ceremony, in search of someone nearly impossible to identify, except by the lycan king.

As we enter the gates of the royal palace, I watch with the other women in the carriage as thirty or so bodies are carried out the same entrance.

All their necks are snapped.

A few of the women gasp in shock, my stomach dropping as I twist away from the horrific sight.

“Quiet in there!” a lycan soldier orders of us from outside the carriage.

The carriage stops soon after, and the soldiers unload us, guiding us inside like sheep. If the lycan king is so terrifying as to snap thirty necks at the drop of a hat, then avoiding him has to be the best possibility of surviving. I keep my head down, trying to keep a low profile as I quietly follow the group.

We’re shepherded to a sort of dormitory within the palace where a Beta is already waiting for us. He announces that three women will be selected each night to accompany the king for the evening.

A few women puff up at this news, smoothing out the fabric of their dresses and positioning the curls of their hair just so. I merely stand there, trying to make myself as invisible as possible, praying that my name won’t be called.

I know it will be eventually, but the longer I have before I’m thrust upon the unruly king, the higher a chance I’ll find a way to escape before I’m forced into his murderous grasp.

“Marcella!” the Beta announces, and one of the women enthusiastic about meeting the king struts forward. A few women clap for her as if she’s won a price instead of having a nail hammered into her coffin.

My chest tightens in anticipation. I didn’t have enough time with my parents, enough time to memorize their faces and laughs. I didn’t have enough time to appreciate the feel of sunshine on my face or the brilliance of the moon among the stars.

“Sarah!” the Beta announces, and a sullen woman steps forward, shaking as she does, clearly understanding the full extent of her immediate future.

Two out of three names have been called. The chances that I’ll be the third are low. My time with my parents is gone, possibly forever, but maybe I’ll get one more night and one more day alive before the oppressive lycan king snaps my neck, too.

“Evelyn!”

Or maybe not.