The Sovereign's Vow: Never Beg Again

Chapter 2

The grand dining room of the Graves estate was a masterpiece of Southern Lycan wealth. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, fractured light over a massive mahogany table groaning beneath the weight of a staggering feast. Roasted venison sitting in pools of rich gravy, silver platters of honey-glazed root vegetables, and crystal decanters of blood-red wine.

Serafina sat at the far end of the table, as far away from the head seat as physically possible. The plush velvet chair felt unnatural against her aching back. For four years, her spine had known only concrete and iron grates.

She stared down at the porcelain plate in front of her. The sheer volume of food was nauseating. Her stomach, shrunken from years of surviving on stale bread and watery gruel, rebelled at the heavy scent of roasted meat. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the silver rim of her plate.

At the head of the table, Julian held court, swirling a glass of wine. To his immediate right sat Elena, glowing in her stolen authority, and next to her sat Lily, who was currently animatedly discussing her new equestrian instructor.

"It’s just that the new gelding is so stubborn, Mom," Lily complained, cutting a piece of meat with far more force than necessary. "He won't take the bit properly. I told the stable master to whip him, but he said we need to be 'patient'."

"I'll speak to the stable master tomorrow, sweetheart," Elena cooed, reaching over to pat Lily's hand. "A beast needs to know who its master is. If it refuses to submit, it has no place in our stables."

Elena’s gaze flicked down the table, landing squarely on Serafina. The double meaning hung in the air, thick and poisonous.

"Isn't that right, Serafina?" Elena asked, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

Serafina slowly looked up, meeting Elena’s smug, venomous eyes. "I am not familiar with your horses, Elena."

Julian slammed his wine glass down. The sharp clinking sound made Lily jump, but Serafina remained as still as a statue.

"Elena asked you a question, Serafina," Julian demanded, his voice a low, warning growl. "She went out of her way to make sure the chef prepared your old favorites tonight. Though I suppose anything is better than the slop they feed criminals in the Ashen dungeons. You haven't touched a single bite. Are you insulting the hospitality of the Lady of the house?"

Serafina looked at the mountain of food on her plate. "My stomach cannot handle rich food, Alpha. If I eat this, I will be violently ill."

"Then be ill," Julian snapped, his eyes flashing with the aggressive gold of his Lycan wolf. "But you will eat what is provided, and you will show gratitude to the woman who convinced me not to leave you to rot at the bottom of a cell."

"Oh, Julian, don't be harsh," Elena sighed, placing a delicate hand on his arm. She looked down the table with an expression of profound pity that made Serafina’s skin crawl. "She’s been through so much. Even if she brought it upon herself, we must be kind. Sera, please. Just a few bites? I picked the menu myself."

Serafina picked up her silver fork. It felt heavy, a deadly weapon compared to the flimsy wooden spoons of the penitentiary. She pierced a small piece of venison, raised it to her lips, and forced herself to chew. It tasted like ash. She swallowed, ignoring the immediate cramp that seized her stomach.

"Thank you, Elena," Serafina said, her voice completely deadpan. "It is exquisite."

Julian’s jaw clenched. He was searching her face, hunting for the spark of jealousy, the flash of rage. He thrived on chaos. When they were married, his favorite game had been pushing her to the brink, making her scream and fight, only to pull her back in and demand her submission. He fed on her emotional reactions.

But looking at her now, it was like screaming into a void.

"You're very quiet," Julian said, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on the table. "I expected you to have more to say after four years. Have you lost your voice along with your pride?"

"I have nothing to say, Alpha."

"Nothing?" Julian mocked, his upper lip curling. "Not even an apology to your daughter? You haven't spoken a word to Lily since you arrived."

Serafina’s eyes darted to Lily. The teenager was glaring at her, gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles were white.

"She tried to talk to me outside," Lily spat, her voice trembling with adolescent rage. "She called me 'her girl'. Don't you ever call me that. You lost the right to speak to me when you tried to kill Grandpa."

Serafina felt a phantom blade twist in her chest. She remembered the day her father-in-law had collapsed, foaming at the mouth. She remembered rushing to help him with her apothecary bag, only to find the vial of nightshade planted perfectly among her healing herbs. She remembered Lily, only ten years old, standing in the doorway, crying as Elena whispered poisoned lies into her ear.

*She did it, Lily. Your mother did it.*

"I did not kill him, Lily," Serafina said. Her voice was quiet, steady, lacking the desperate, hysterical edge it had carried four years ago.

"Liar!" Lily shouted, slamming her hands on the table. "I saw the poison in your bag! Everyone knows what you did! You're a monster, and I wish you had died in that prison!"

"Lily, darling, calm down," Elena shushed her, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulling her into a protective embrace. Elena glared at Serafina. "Look what you're doing to her. You've been back for five minutes and you're already causing her distress."

"I merely answered a question," Serafina said softly.

Julian stood up abruptly, his chair scraping violently against the hardwood floor. The Alpha aura rolled off him in suffocating waves, meant to force any lesser wolf in the room to bare their throat in submission.

"You will not call my daughter a liar," Julian snarled, stalking down the length of the long table toward Serafina. "And you will not sit in my house, eating my food, and pretend you are some innocent martyr."

Serafina did not cower. She did not shrink back into her chair. She simply placed her fork down on the porcelain plate with a soft *clink* and looked up at him with hollow, dead eyes.

"I am not pretending anything, Julian."

"Stop looking at me like that!" Julian roared, slamming his hands on the table on either side of her chair, trapping her. He leaned in so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. "Where is the fire, Serafina? Where is the fight? I want you to look at me and tell me you understand exactly how far you've fallen. You are nothing here. You are less than the dirt on my boots."

"I understand," she whispered.

"Scream at me!" Julian demanded, his voice cracking with narcissistic frustration. He needed her to care. He needed her to be devastated that he had replaced her with Elena.

"I have no screams left, Alpha," Serafina replied, her voice eerily calm.

Furious, Julian grabbed Serafina's bruised arm, his fingers digging brutally into the thin skin over her wrist. He hauled her upward, forcing her to stand. The chair tipped backward and crashed to the floor.

"Fight back!" Julian commanded, his eyes wild, shaking her arm. "Show me you're not a completely broken, pathetic animal! Fight me!"

Serafina looked down at his hand gripping her arm. The bruises from the prison shackles were still an ugly, mottled purple, and his fingers were pressing directly into the tender flesh. She did not wince. She did not pull away.

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his furious gaze.

"I will not fight you, Julian," she said coldly. "But I will ask for the one thing I came back for. Give me my mother's silver music box, and I will never speak to any of you again."