Chapter 26

Ruby

I don’t waste any time taking advantage of the library. First thing Saturday morning, I pop out of bed and hastily brush my teeth before throwing on my robe and slippers and running off to the library.

The library smells like mahogany and old books. It’s quiet and peaceful, and without Alice or anyone else here, I finally feel like myself for the first time since I’ve come to this castle.

I easily spend an hour scouring just one bookshelf and come away with a stack of novels to read. With a smile on my face and my arms heavy with books, I waddle over to the seating area beneath the large window with the stained glass rose at the top and plop myself down to read.

The first novel I pick up is the first in a series about a young female detective who is working on a murder case. It’s a page-turner, and within half an hour I’m already several chapters in and completely enthralled.

Unfortunately, my peace is broken by the sound of the library door opening. I poke my head up over the back of the sofa -- I’ve been so engrossed in my book that I’m laying on my belly, propped up on my elbows as I read -- to see none other than Alice standing in the doorway.

Shit.

She raises a knobby finger to point at me.

“There she is.”

I sit up on my knees as a strange woman who I’ve never seen before practically floats in. She wears a matronly blue dress, very similar to Alice’s, with a white brooch on her neck. Her silver hair is pulled back into a neat bun.

She stops a few paces from where I stand and frowns at me.

“You must be… Ruby.” She looks somewhat disgusted.

I nod.

“Be polite and stand, girl,” Alice barks. “You’re in the presence of the Queen Mother.”

The… Queen? Atwood’s mother?

I do as I’m told and scramble to my feet, losing my place in my book as it drops to the floor, and run around the couch to stand in front of the strange new woman. I curtsy and clasp my hands in front of myself politely. My face turns beet red as it occurs to me that I’m still in my nightgown and robe.

“L-Lovely to meet you, Your Majesty,” I say quietly.

The Queen Scoffs. “Speak so that I can hear you,” she says sternly.

My face turns an even deeper shade of red.

“It is lovely to meet you, Your Majesty.”

With a petty “Hmph” the Queen steps around me to look at the mess of books. Then, she circles me, sizing me up. I keep my gaze lowered to the ground as she carefully inspects every angle.

She comes back around to face me and places her hand under my chin, lifting it so that I meet her cold, stern gaze. Her eyes are a stormy shade of silver, much like her hair.

“I expected better from my son’s suitor,” she says. “We’ll have to work on you.” Over her shoulder, I can see Alice smirking. She drops her hand from my chin and turns on her heel, floating back to the door.

“Get the girl dressed, Alice,” the Queen says. “Etiquette lessons will begin promptly.”

With an evil sneer, Alice grabs me by my arm and drags me off to my room to get dressed. She takes great pleasure in roughly brushing my unruly hair and pulling it back into two overly tight braids, then forces me into a prim dress that’s a size too small with buttons that go all the way up to my neck.

Once Alice finishes dressing me, she leads me to a room that I’ve never seen before. It appears to be the Queen’s chambers. When we enter, the Queen stands properly next to a table on which sits a silver tea set.

“Thank you, Alice,” the Queen says, to which Alice curtsies in response and goes to stand at the door.

I look confusedly at the table, then back to the Queen, whose gaze never wavers from me.

“Well, go on,” she says, smoothing her skirt and taking a seat at the table. “Serve me.”

“M-Ma’am?” I ask, confused.

“You heard me. Serve. Me.”

I gulp and step up to the table. As I shakily lift the teapot, I can feel the Queen’s and Alice’s mocking eyes on me the whole time. I start to pour, but since my hands are shaking, a little tea sloshes out.

“No, no, no!” the Queen shouts, standing abruptly and nearly making me drop the whole teapot.

Without another word, she yanks the teapot from my hands and produces a thin switch from her skirt.

“Bend over. Place your hands on the table.”

“Are you going to hit me?” I ask. “For spilling a little tea?”

The Queen’s eyes flash with anger and she forcefully pushes me down on the table, lifting my skirt to expose my bare butt. “Luna never behaved this way,” she growls. I hold my breath, mentally preparing myself for my punishment.

She hits me with the switch five times for spilling the tea. When I’m allowed to stand again and cover myself, tears stream down my face; as though nothing happened, however, the Queen simply sits down and instructs me to clean up my mess and start again.

The entire day is spent like this. The Queen puts me through all sorts of trials, often comparing me to this “Luna” woman and punishing me with the switch for tiny mistakes like slouching or not curtsying properly. By the end of the day, my ass is so sore I can barely sit.

I want to tell Atwood, but something in me tells me not to because, after all, this is his mother. If he won’t listen to me when it comes to Alice, who’s to say that he’ll listen to me when it comes to the Queen?

Sunday is much the same. Alice and the Queen both wake me up at six o’clock sharp and watch me like hawks, nitpicking every little thing I do as I make the bed and get dressed. Then, without any breakfast, they lead me to another room I haven’t seen before: the ballroom.

Inside, there is a stern, thin man who introduces himself as Mykhail: my dancing teacher. While the Queen and Alice watch, Mykhail drills me all morning and afternoon on my dancing techniques until my feet are sore and sweat coats my back.

I can hear Alice and the Queen insulting me the entire time. “Luna was far more graceful,” they say. “She dances like a puppet, not at all like our Luna,” they say. “If only Luna were here… We wouldn’t be wasting our time with this peasant.”

Finally, as the sun begins to set, I’ve had enough. I rip away from Mykhail and storm up to the Queen and Alice with my fists balled up at my sides.

“I’ve been dancing in here for twelve hours,” I growl, feeling my anger bubble up inside of me. “No food, very little water, no rest. Not even a bathroom break! And all you two can talk about is ‘Luna’! Luna this, Luna that. I’m sick of it! I don’t know who this ‘Luna’ is, but I’m not her!”

Alice and the Queen both look at me incredulously for several long, uncomfortable moments.

The Queen scoffs.

“How insolent. What do you think we should do, Alice?”

I can see a smirk play at the corners of Alice’s mouth.

“Perhaps no dinner would teach her a lesson,” she says smugly. “And it might make her waist smaller, too.”

The Queen nods approvingly. Alice grabs me by my arm, dragging me off to my room kicking and screaming so loud that the entire castle can probably hear.

“This is what you get,” she growls as she swings open the door and shoves me in so hard that I fall on my hands and knees. “You’re right. You’ll never be Luna. And you’ll never be a princess, either.”

With that, she slams and locks the door, leaving me alone.

I clamber to my feet and bang on the door, screaming at the top of my lungs. When no one comes to open the door, I can’t hold in my rage anymore. It feels as though that same force that took over when Donna grabbed my hair, the same force that took over when I growled at Atwood, takes over now and controls my every move.

I uncontrollably start to tear apart the room. I throw anything breakable against the wall, rip the curtains down from their hooks, and throw the blankets off the bed. I use my nails and teeth to rip into the pillows, sending feathers flying everywhere, and yank all of my clothes down off of their hangers -- even the new ones that Atwood just bought me. It’s as though I’m not in control of my own actions.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around me, restricting my movements. I growl and bite them, but they don’t waver.

“Ruby!” Atwood’s voice yells. “Ruby, calm down!”

The sound of Atwood’s voice and the smell of his body suddenly brings me to my senses. My head spins as though I’ve just awoken from being possessed.

I look around the room, still held tight by Atwood from behind, to see the destruction.

“I… I…” I stammer, unable to find the right words as tears pour down my face.

Atwood spins me around to look me in the eyes. He looks furious, but there’s something else there. His orange eyes glow brighter than I’ve ever seen them before.

Lust.

He kisses me, hard, and pushes me up against the wall. I kiss him back, just as hard, shoving my tongue into his mouth as we fumble with each other’s clothes. My panties grow wet as I feel his erection press up against me. I dig my nails into his back, reveling in the sound of him gasping at the pain…

But then, he pushes himself away, dazed, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The glow in his eyes dims and goes back to normal.

“No,” he says, panting as he puts his shirt back on. “Not yet. Not until your birthday, little bird.”

I slide down to the floor with my back against the wall as I take in the mess that I made around me.

The force that took over me… was that my wolf?