Chapter 98

Ruby

When I was first whisked away from my home to live in the castle and be Atwood’s bride, I thought I would hate it. And truthfully, I did hate it for a long time.

But now, as I wake up in the warmth of his hidden bedroom, with his scent filling my senses and the feeling of his lips on my skin, I’m glad that I’m here. Fate has a strange way of making things happen.

“Good morning, little bird,” Atwood whispers in between gentle kisses on my chest and neck.

Last night, we made love for the first time. I thought that we would follow tradition and wait until marriage, but like so many other things that have happened over the past few months, the outcome was different from my expectations.

For the first time in months, I feel peace. Alice, Edith, and the Queen are gone; I’ll be marrying Atwood in just a couple of days; and I’ll return to school in a few weeks as the Princess of the Lycan Kingdom.

While the whereabouts of the Queen and her minions are still unknown and there is always the threat of them returning, and the war with the Bears still rages, and there will no doubt be some sort of drama at school, I still feel at peace.

“I’m hungry,” I whisper with a smirk. Atwood flashes me a toothy grin and jumps out of bed, putting on his clothes. I do the same.

We fell asleep last night just as the sun was rising, so it’s late in the morning now. The blizzard stopped raging hours ago and now the sun shines brightly onto the castle.

Atwood and I make our way to the dining hall, where a brunch consisting of fruit, toast, and coffee has already been laid out for us. The food is warm and full of flavor, and makes my belly full and happy. The days of being fed a slice of plain white bread by Alice are long since over now, and I’m finally back at my old healthy weight; with the addition of wider hips, a larger bust, a smaller waist, and more muscle from the hormones caused by my wolf.

Once we’ve filled our bellies, it’s time to get to work. We don’t need to speak to one another to say what we need to do, because we both already know.

It’s time to clean Vivian’s room.

When we return to Vivian’s room after changing into some clothes that we won’t mind getting dirty, the sunlight shining through the window finally shows the extent of the mess that we’ll have to clean up. I never knew the full extent of the state of the room since I had only been here in the dark, so now it feels like a completely different environment.

“I really appreciate you helping with this,” Atwood says as he walks around the room and opens the windows wide to let in some fresh, cold air. “And I hope you know that if you feel uncomfortable at any point, we don’t have to do this.”

“No,” I respond, pushing up the sleeves of my gray hoodie. “I want to do this. Vivian saved us both, saved the kingdom. Remembering her like this is the least we can do.”

I make my way over to the fireplace first and get down on my knees, grabbing the hand broom and beginning to sweep the old ash out of the fireplace. The ash flies up in little flurries as I clean, making me cough so that I have to tie my handkerchief around my nose and mouth, but I don’t mind.

Nearby, Atwood starts moving furniture out of the way so he can sweep and mop the floor.

In a strange way, I like working together like this. I’ve never been a stranger to hard work due to my upbringing, and while I admit I do enjoy living a life of luxury in the castle, there’s something about Atwood and I cleaning this room together that makes me feel comforted and content.

Before I know it, we’ve already almost finished cleaning the entire room. All we have left to do is pull the old, dirty sheets off of the furniture and move everything back to its original place.

“I’ll do this,” Atwood says, lifting up one side of the couch to shimmy it back to its original spot. “I won’t let my mate be doing heavy lifting like this.”

“Too bad,” I respond with a smirk, running to the other side and lifting as well. Atwood looks at me with a mixture of surprise and arousal in his eyes. When we set the couch back down in its spot, I can see a bit of an erection straining against his sweatpants.

He sees me looking and walks over to me haughtily, placing his hand under my chin and lifting so that I meet his gaze.

“My eyes are up here,” he says in a playful tone. “When we’re finished here, you can look wherever you want.”

His words make me blush and I pull away, biting my lip as I turn on my heel to go and take the sheet off of the armchair.

Once we’ve finished moving everything back and all of the sheets are piled up to be taken away by the servants, Atwood and I stand in the middle of the room and look around at our work.

The once-dusty and decrepit room is now clean and bright. The setting sun shines through the window onto the red upholstered furniture, refracting through the little crystal vases and decorations that Vivian used to love to collect. The books have been cleaned and lined up neatly on the bookshelf, and the small upright piano against the wall has been polished and now only awaits the specialist to come and tune it so that the room may be filled with music again.

Underneath the window, there is a small record player on a table. Atwood walks over to it and turns it on, then places the needle down on the record. Soft, grainy classical music begins to play.

He returns to me and holds his hand out, which I take enthusiastically. For a while we just quietly sway back and forth, my head on his chest. His heartbeat almost beats rhythmically with the music, although it’s a little bit offbeat from the tune.

“I love you, Ruby,” Atwood whispers, kissing the top of my head. My white hair is pulled back into a sloppy bun and a bit of sweat from all of the hard work cakes my face, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The song ends and we step away from one another. I’m blushing a bit.

“There’s just one more thing,” Atwood says solemnly, turning to face Vivian’s portrait. The sheet still covers it.

We don’t need to speak to know what we have to do. Together, Atwood and I step up to the portrait, each taking a bit of the sheet in our hands. We look at each other momentarily, my red eyes meeting his orange ones, then nod to one another before tugging on the sheet.

The sheet falls in a cascade, making a soft swishing sound as it comes down.

Vivian’s beautiful portrait stares back at us.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Atwood asks softly, taking my hand.

I nod, not breaking my gaze from the portrait. “I want to honor the first Luna,” I say. “She deserves to see the light again.”