The Wolf King’s Wife: She was his wife, his prisoner…and his punishment

Astrid’s POV

Wars for power and dominion between two neighboring kingdoms had taken place countless times throughout history, but never had the hatred been as deep as the one that existed between the kingdoms of Fangaría and Arkavia.

The hatred between our peoples dated back centuries, and the worst part was that there was no other cause than the fact that we belonged to different races: humans and werewolves. It is said that we were once great allies, until one day everything changed and we became each other’s most bitter enemies. The reason for that change was unclear; all I knew was that the hatred had spread through generations, turning us against one another.

The war was brutal. The dead were counted by the hundreds on both sides, and there seemed to be no end to such a massacre. I had heard stories about the wolves of Fangaría—beings of superhuman strength, with lethal claws and fangs. Their ferocity could be merciless, yet they were bound by the moon. They were natural warriors, formidable beyond measure.

Our army, though made up solely of humans, was far more numerous and deeply motivated to fight.

The battle had dragged on for months. During that time, both Lara—my mother—and I had devoted ourselves to tending as many wounded as we could on the battlefield. Truth be told, our lives had never been easy, not with a man like my father by our side. King Dominic of Arkavia was a cruel and ruthless man, one who seized every opportunity to torture us.

While it was true that my mother had endured terrible things at his side, the hatred he felt toward me was incomparable. He treated me like a slave, a servant, even an enemy—never like a daughter. At his side, I had known nothing but suffering, loss, and sorrow.

Marked by him as a disgrace and a curse to anyone who crossed my path, I was no princess in the kingdom. I was the lowest of slaves—feared and despised by all around me, even though I had no idea why it was so, nor anything I could do to change it.

—Please, Father, stop this once and for all. Can’t you see all this death around you?—I begged, desperate for him to understand that this fight was not worth it.

Unfortunately, my father did not take my words well. He rushed toward me and struck me so hard that I fell to the ground instantly. My face burned, and I tasted blood on my lips.

—When will you understand that you are to keep your mouth shut, remain submissive, and, if possible, go unnoticed?—he asked with his usual contempt.

—Father, I…—I tried to apologize for my audacity.

—Silence,—he ordered, crouching down to grab me by the hair.

—Your only duty is to help your mother with the wounded. Nothing more. Because if you can’t even manage that, I can always find another use for you,—he warned cruelly before walking away.

My mother rushed to me then, holding me tightly in an attempt to comfort me. I did not cry—not a single tear escaped my eyes—because I knew they would be useless.

—Be calm, my child. One day, everything will change,—she whispered, truly hoping it would be so. She still had that hope.

—I don’t believe anything will ever change for me, and if it does, it won’t be for the better. Of that, I’m certain,—I replied, fully aware of my misfortune and the cruel destiny imposed upon me.

Deep down, she knew it too and could only weep in silence.

—I promise you it won’t be that way. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it,—she said, kissing my forehead.

Near dawn, exhaustion finally overcame me and I lay down to rest for a moment. I hadn’t stopped for days; my body was drained and my mind barely able to think clearly. I curled up in a corner of the wounded soldiers’ tent, hugging myself to preserve what little warmth I could.

I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours when I suddenly felt a hand cover my mouth, jolting me awake in terror. It wasn’t until I saw my mother through the dim light that I calmed, and once she realized I recognized her, she carefully removed her hand.

—What’s going on?—I asked, still shaken.

—I thought your father would stop this. That sooner or later he’d realize he could never defeat the wolves of Fangaría,—she admitted, visibly distressed.

—The wolves will not surrender until they avenge their alpha’s death. They won’t rest until they destroy his killer and everyone who stands in their way,—she added in a weak voice, making sure no one else could hear.

—What do you mean by that?—I asked, increasingly confused.

—It was your father,—she said, and that was more than enough.

The truth was, it didn’t surprise me. I knew he was capable of such a thing. He had always hated Fangaría, especially the royal family. He wanted them destroyed. Still, I hadn’t expected something like this—not with everything it would unleash.

I had heard stories about Lysander, about how cruel and bloodthirsty he was, and the thought filled me with fear for my father, my mother, and our people. I had grown up hearing of the wolves’ savagery all my life.

—This situation is unsustainable. At any moment, the battle will reach our gates, and when it does, you must be as far away from here as possible,—she said, standing quickly and looking outside.

—I don’t understand, Mother,—I admitted, following her anxiously.

—When no one is watching, leave this place and run to the coast. Where we used to spend our afternoons, there’s a horse waiting for you,—she said, tears filling her eyes.

—You must take it and find my father—your grandfather. Inside a hollow log, you’ll find everything you need for the journey, including a map that will lead you to him. You must reach my family; you’ll be safe there,—she instructed, turning to caress my hair lovingly, as she always did.

—Show them this. They’ll know who you are,—she said, removing the necklace she always wore—a keepsake from her family—and placing it around my neck.

—You’ll come with me, won’t you?—I asked, even though I already knew the answer and feared it more than anything.

—I can’t, my child. You’ll have to make this journey on your own,—she replied, just as I dreaded.

—I won’t leave without you. I can’t,—I refused, fully aware of what staying behind meant. My father would never forgive her for this.

—You will, because you know you have no other choice. Your father will end up killing you. It’s only a matter of time, and I won’t allow that to happen,—she said, tears of helplessness in her eyes.

I had always known how much it hurt her not to be able to protect me, but I had never blamed her for it.

—Promise me you’ll go,—she demanded, gripping my shoulders so I would look her in the eyes.

—I can’t. I won’t leave you behind. I couldn’t live with that. I’m not that strong,—I confessed desperately, hoping she would change her mind.

—Yes, you are. You are very strong. Stronger than you think. And when you realize that, you will be very powerful,—she assured me with the absolute conviction and love of a mother.

I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t about what was right or best—it was about what would let me live in peace for the rest of my life, however long that might be.

—Promise me you’ll leave,—she insisted.

All I could do was nod.

She gave me a tender smile and rushed out of the tent. I watched her as she ran toward the battlefield, toward the catapults, setting them ablaze.

The fire drew the attention of every soldier. They knew those catapults were what kept the enemy at bay and that they had to stop her before everything was destroyed.

I was about to intervene when she turned to look at me.

—Go,—she begged.

At that very moment, an arrow came out of nowhere, piercing her stomach. She fell to the ground, lifeless.

The sight shattered me completely, broke me in two, and a raw, agonized scream tore from my lips.