Chapter 4: The Alpha's Judgment

The frosty winter air seeped an unrelenting bite into her flesh as Desiree quietly surrendered to the alpha’s guards. They escorted her from the room to the back of an awaiting wagon. The heavy coldness of the irons around her wrists pulled her arms down on either side of her.

She was surprised when Missy appeared holding a quilt.

“I know you don’t intend to have her in this freezing weather without covering!”

The guards looked to each other and then to Desiree as if seeing her shivers for the first time. One took the quilt offered by Missy and handed it to Desiree.

“Thank you,” she said to the guard and then mouthed the same to her friend who flashed her a broad encouraging smile. She draped the quilt around herself, remembering that she’d made it especially for Missy’s past birthday. She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her eyes at the thought of not seeing her friend again.

As the wagon moved, she continually looked over the one-mile trail from the back of the wagon. Her breath frosted in the air, her feet dangling just above the gravel that passed below, she thought of that first day, five years ago, when she’d ended a two-week voyage from her father’s house and came face-to-face with the powerful majesty of the Blackstone mansion set on high against an ocean backdrop.

She remembered feeling small and insignificant. Waylon Blackstone, who was well-aged at that time, had said next to nothing to her as they traveled together with his guards, leaving her to the care of the female companions aboard the ship. She remembered being a little afraid of the old alpha and often wondered why he had agreed to give her father money and take her as collateral.

Maybe it had been pity. Their house had been falling down around them and her father had two children he couldn’t care for. She thought the pity might have been for her and her sister more than her father. She thought about her father, trying to love him past the animosity she felt. And she wondered how her sister would get on if she wasn’t able to send money.

She remained lost in her thoughts until the wagon stopped. She was helped to the ground and two guards stood on either side of her laying claim to each elbow. They led the way, climbing the back stairs of the mansion, escorting her until she was in the alpha’s council chamber. He stood on a platform on the opposite side of a banister, dressed formally beside his beta, Malcolm, who was dressed much the same. The soldiers beside her ushered her to the banister where she was made to kneel.

She took in the shock of the cold that seeped through the fabrics of her dress, numbing its way through her knees and up her thighs. Coupled with the seeming finality of the chains around her wrists, the chill of the floor called in a moment of despair that Desiree all but gave in to. If it was to be her last day among the living, she’d go with her dignity.

As Missy put it, she had done nothing wrong.

As the initial shock of cold subsided, Desiree found the steel within herself to straighten her spine and look toward the new alpha. His eyes focused elsewhere on a target over her head and behind her. But, those eyes which she hadn’t been privy to see at their close proximity in his carriage hinted at a blazing green light that made him seem even more familiar than merely his resemblance to his father.

She swallowed against the warring feelings of hope and despair as the green light of his eyes turned to a clear

emerald as they locked onto her. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry as she recognized the same eyes as her dream shifter looking upon her in the waking hours.

“It seems that you have made yourself quite a reputation, quilter.”

It was obvious he meant for her to give a response. But, she wasn’t sure what to say. The alpha, Declan Blackstone was the shifter she’d dreamed about for five years. But, why was he calling her quilter? Didn’t he recognize her as well?

“I have filled several orders and have several more waiting,” she acknowledged his statement.

He signaled to Malcolm, who produced the quilt she’d made the bride-to-be.

“I took the liberty of having a tradesman travel a short way to the east to see how much he could sell this one for. The offers he received far outpriced what you’ve sold them for within the pack.”

Desiree found herself speechless. She focused the intensity of her questioning eyes on him. The impact of his green eyes glinted with the light of lanterns around him took Desiree’s breath away as the scent of sea and spice reached her. She was certain that he could read the plethora of questions that hit her all at once but he only chose to answer one.

“Your quilt would have sold for at least five times as much,” he stated.

She blinked quickly, summing up the total of her earnings and multiplying by five.

“It’s still not enough for you to pay your father’s debt in a year,” he explained. “But…” he paused.

She dared to feel a sliver of hope rise within her chest as Declan waved to the guards by her side and the chains around her wrists were unlocked.

“There is value and use in your talent, quilter. I’d hate to see my father’s… interest in you be in vain.”

Quilter? Interest?

“You will continue to quilt. I will commission one dozen every month until the debt is paid. You will be given quarters in the mansion as well as a workspace in the seamstress hall.”

“One dozen,” she focused on the impossibly high demand. “But, I can barely do two in a week,” she explained.

He rolled his eyes and waved her away. “Wait in the seamstress hall. All will be explained.”

Before she could gather her wits to ask a single useful question, she was escorted by the elbow out of the doors and through a twist of hallways until she was left unceremoniously alone in what she assumed was the seamstress hall. Looking at the fine silks and lace, Desiree immediately folded her hands, now caked with dirt underneath her nails behind her back.

Mannequins clad in clothing she’d never been near enough to touch filled the hall. She swallowed considering her shabby appearance, wanting more desperately than anything to return to the cook house and her tiny room in the village.

“By the goddess, you are a filthy little rag aren’t you!?!” An aging and almost shrill voice croaked from an unseen corner of the room. Desiree turned to face its owner and got an eye full of blonde curls and a tight bodice.

“The new alpha my eye…” she muttered as she came close enough to give Desiree a three hundred and sixty-five-degree inspection. As she did so, Desiree took the time to take the woman in completely. She was tall. Even if she hadn’t been wearing heels, Desiree believed that she would have stood more than a head taller than her. She also seemed to be much older than she first appeared. Desiree imagined a well-practiced make-up routine kept her face looking young.

“I’m Silvia, head seamstress,” the woman introduced herself.

Desiree extended a hand. “I’m Desiree.”

Silvia ignored it.

“The new alpha has appointed you this space in my seamstress hall.”

Silvia walked her past the well-dressed mannequins to a far corner with an empty space three times as big as her room in the village.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering the equipment you will need,” Silvia supplied.

“All I need is what I had in my room. Do you know where they’ve taken my effects?” she asked only truly caring to have her mother’s jewelry box returned.

“No.”

The woman sneered and retrieved a handkerchief from the folds of her bodice looking at Desiree and pressing the silky white rag to her nose. “You are in desperate need of a bath, child.”