Chapter 4: Poetic Justice

4 Years Later in Thonburi

Arisara

In front of the pearlescent mirror mounted on my bedroom wall, I slouch as Omega Ginggaew styles my hair and makeup, a mere two hours before the coronation ceremony. It was official: At twenty-two-years-of-age, I am the Luna of Thonburi, and regrettably, I have to share the podium with my ‘husband.’ With my father’s condition worsening, he ordered an abrupt ceremony so he could be alive to witness the change in power. Due to the rushed circumstances, I wouldn’t be carried in a scintillating carriage atop elephants, or paying homage to my ancestors at Wat Phra Mahathat temple. Instead, I was tasked to sit pretty, wear the golden Mongkut headdress, and let my husband deliver some bullsh*t speech about unity and harmony.

“Luna Arisara, your dress is absolutely spectacular,” Omega Ginggaew released, referring to the golden damask gown I was instructed to wear. “The embossed lotus petals, the embroidered sash, and hint of sky-blue accents really balance the gown’s blinding effect,” she added. How lucky you are to b-“

“I think we should go with cerulean blue for the eye shadow. I know it’s a bit bold, but I think it sends a statement, don’t you think?” I interrupted, diverting the conversation away from how I felt.

“YES, YES, and one more YES! I can already picture how bad*ss you’ll look in front of the congregation. Give ‘em that ‘if you glance at me the wrong way, I’ll tear your soul to shreds of cartilage and feed it to the packhouse tonight’ look. Give ‘em that ‘underestimate me and I’ll tie you up to an iron fencepost and smash your he-“

Once again, I had to interrupt my Omega’s fantasy. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear much makeup at all. Just a nude palette would better fit the occasion.”

“NO, NO, and one more NO! How can you be so pragmatic on the day you hold all the power?!” she followed up.

That’s the reason I’m the one in the ornate headdress today, and not you. I couldn’t say something so condescending to break Ginggaew’s heart, which I once thought was innocent, but now seemed to be filled with satanic fetishes. Instead, I opted for “Eum,” neither a word, nor an answer, but instead a sound that indicated I was jaded and apathetic.

“I heard over a million are gathered outside waiting for you! Isn’t it so exciting?!” Ginggaew posed the question I had heard way too many times the past four years.

“Now introducing, the Luna of Thonburi, the savior, the star, the princess, the idol, the villainess the paladin, the liberator, the redeemer, Kun Arisara!” Ginggaew listed a bunch of titles, conflating religions, professions, and mythologies, with only the first accurately describing me.

As a little girl, I always dreamed of sitting atop the throne of Thonburi. Besides Songkran, our new year’s celebration, or emergency declarations, the emblazoned chair sat empty at the end of a lengthy marble corridor two buildings down from the packhouse. Access to the throne room was restricted to the Alpha or Luna and whomever they invited in. However, that didn’t stop me from sneaking my way inside. Luckily, my father had loose bowels and ordered a bathroom to be installed near the rear of the hall, meaning there was a single drainage pipe connecting the building to the sewers. The cylindrical tube was large enough for a scrawny human, age ten or younger to fit through, and luckily, I fit these ambiguous criteria. I would endure the rancid stench ten times over just to sit on the golden chair, mesmerized by the honor and righteousness it radiated.

But now, none of this symbolism meant anything, having to rule in accordance with my husband. Where was the Alpha I once fantasized about in my youth: Wavy, shoulder-length hair, still damp from the shower, sensual green eyes, abdomen with a six-pack, and muscular glutes like that of a bear-bottomed macaque? Instead, I was beholden to Prayut, the son of a Japanese yakuza, who stood seven centimeters shorter than the crown of my head, had signs of early onset balding, and still tied his shoelaces with two loops. But that wasn’t what made him unbearable. No. Rather, it was his wicked soul that was so insufferable that I often contemplated ending my anguish. However, leaving Thonburi to the sole possession of this b*stard was satisfaction I would never grant him.

“STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!”

Suddenly, I was jolted back to the present, hearing a threatening voice down the hallway.

“DON’T MAKE ME TELL YOU AGAIN!”

“What could be the matter this close to the ceremony’s opening?! It had to be perfect! Whoever wanted to start trouble had to go through me first!” Omega Ginggaew took a fighter’s stance, fully believing she had the force to stop all foul play.

I rolled my eyes, heaving a sigh as I stood up to check out the disturbance. “If all goes to sh*t maybe this could be my ticket out of the coronation,” I muttered so only I could hear.

“I’m telling you, this is urgent, directly addressed to Alpha Mahara!” Mee Noi, our pack’s messenger and Thonburi’s chief postmaster, pleaded.

“Give that to me, boy,” Gamma Chavoret ordered, vigorously reaching for the parchment sealed with lavender-colored wax and the emblem of an unfamiliar pack.

“What do you think you’re doing?! It’s unlawful to open someone else’s mail!” threatened Mee Noi, who suffered a pubescent voice crack, taking away all the conviction in his statement.

THWACK

As I exited my room, I saw Chavoret’s hand clenched in a fist. He was looking down at Mee Noi, whose cheekbone was bloodied from the strike. “Anuman, take this runt to the prison packhouse before I KILL HIM AND THE NEXT PERSON I SEE,” Chavoret commanded his subordinate. Wow. Like Alpha, like Gamma...I guess. It seemed Chavoret had been taking notes from my father.

“You will do no such thing,” I interfered, sliding into the heart of the ruckus.

“Kun Arisara, with all due respect, Anuman is under my command, and he will do as I say.” Chavoret stood firm.

“And, who put you in charge?” I posed, disinterested by whatever answer he would conjure up.

“I report directly to your father,” he answered.

“Well, technically you report to my husband since you’re STILL a Gamma in this pack. And speaking of rank, I’ll be Luna of Thonburi within the hour, so I think it would in your best interest to leave a good impression.” If he was going on a power trip, so was I.

“Understood,” Chavoret forcibly acknowledged, biting his chapped lips so hard in restraint that blood began to seep out.

“GAMMA Chavoret, please give the honorable postmaster and Luna of Thonburi’s newly appointed Beta the letter!” Chavoret closed his eyes and winced as he handed the sealed document to Mee Noi, who gave me an appreciative smirk, which I reciprocated.

“You...mmmm..ay..come..in,” Pauh expressed softly, laboring to speak.

There was my father, the once great warrior of Siam, who with Anurak’s parents defended our land against the Nippon invasion. Ever since Alpha Parunchai handed the pack over, my Pauh’s arrogance inflated and his irritability magnified. As soon as he inhaled his last breaths, I would work to destroy the heartless kingdom he assembled. I felt nothing seeing him ailing on his death bed. He signaled to me to take his hand, his eyes mesmerized by my coronation gown, yet I wouldn’t give him the final bliss he desired. It was poetic justice to a man who betrayed his friends, family, and only child.

“Alpha Mahara,” Mee Noi dropped on both knees as he handed Pauh the parchment paper, “this was addressed to you.” Pauh reopened his hand, grasping the scroll in his quivering palm. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of the purple crest.

“I hhhaven’t...hhheard..ffffrom..the Patani..pppack..in..agessss. Wwwhat...dooo..those...scuummm..wanttt?” I almost fell asleep waiting for my father to finish his fourteen words.

AWWWGGHHH

“ALPHA! WHAT’S WRONG!” Chavoret raced to my father’s side.

My father convulsed on the bed, releasing an aching groan that shook the packhouse at its core. The power he was once capable of returned in the intensity of his vocal cords. Seconds later his body lay limp on the bed; this was his heart’s retaliation for years of endured maliciousness.

The very paper that caused my father cardiac arrest fell to the floor amidst the seizure. In bold purple ink read the words, “I’m back.”