Chapter 15

She curled into a ball, her body bruised and beaten.

A growl ripped through the air, a growl of determination.

'We're getting out of here,' A gravelly voice that she'd never heard spoke.

But the voice was her.

“As you are aware, the Silversmiths have always been a rival to the crown, the kingdom. They live far North, running their own Kingdom as they wish, we do not interfere and they do not interfere with us. The Silversmith’s stated they wanted a treaty, they wished to become part of the Kingdom. Your grandfather accepted, the arrangements were made.

"The Alpha family came to the palace to be sworn in, and accept the crown. Just as the ceremony began, over one hundred wolves descended on the palace. The Alpha murdered your grandfather on the spot. Many lives were lost, including your father’s siblings. He was the youngest and was training away from the palace. When the battle started, those he was training with protected your father. Including your father, Wade. From what he’s told me, he didn’t know what to do, he was sixteen and fourth in line to the throne. Suddenly, he was King.”

“He never spoke of having siblings,” Marc muttered, frowning deeply at his mother, he thought they were taught all their history... this had certainly been omitted.

“No dear, he never does. I will get him to come round, it may take time. I thought he had accepted... thought enough time had passed... “ she sighed. “Klara, please don’t listen to a word Xander has to say. You’re not your grandfather, and your father may have been too young to have even been involved. You’re lovely, dear.”

Elsbeth smiled, her warmth and motherly aura didn’t comfort Klara, she felt cold, her insides tearing apart at what had just been disclosed. “I better go check on your father,” Elsbeth stated as she rose, leaving Klara, Marc, Adelaide and Wade around the banquet table. “I can’t believe he never told us!” Adelaide exclaimed as soon as Elsbeth had shut the door. “Explains a lot though,” Wade muttered thoughtfully, "He's been acting strange for weeks."

“I’ve never seen him act like this…” Marc gently placed his hand on Klara’s slumped shoulder. She didn’t look up, tears building on her lower lid.

She let out an almost silent sob as she stood, scraping the chair back against the stone floor. “Darling?” Marc asked when she slipped from the table, she shook her head and let her feet lead her from the hall. She had no idea how to get back to the wing but she didn’t want to go back.

Tears streaked down her cheeks while she blindly walked, glad no-one had followed her. She didn’t know her family had deceived and then murdered the royal family. She didn’t believe the stories she’d been told as a child any more, everyone seemed to live well and no-one mistreated. It was her pack that was in the wrong, but she knew she would be sent back. The former King was right, she wasn’t good enough to be Queen and Marc had no business having a traitor as a mate.

She found a recessed corner that meant she was almost completely hidden from the corridor. She didn’t know where she was apart from still on the ground floor. She stretched her legs in front of her, head resting back against the stone. If Marc didn’t want her that would be OK, she just hoped she could live within the pack. She’d even work in the palace or maybe another pack would take her in, and they wouldn’t be horrible. She felt a tingle spread over her body, a shiver that she put it down to being cold.

She sighed quietly to herself, there was no point trying to find Marc’s wing, she shifted so she was on her back, legs straight in the air resting against a wall. ’Talk to mate, he won’t throw us away.’

’It doesn’t matter, at least we’re safe. This corner will be our home.’ She chuckled to herself, the notion amused her.

Hours later, she felt movement next to her and looked to see Marc laying on the floor. “Does the ceiling hold the answers, little one?” he asked as he shuffled onto his back.

“Yeah.”

“Was a little worried, you’ve been gone hours.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“Don’t need to apologise, this is your home.” She shook her head but Marc was staring up to the ceiling. “Is your dad right?” she asked quietly.

“I always thought he was, but not today. He’s not right today.” She said nothing. The words she practised just didn’t come. They stayed silent, laying on the cold stone. Marc’s hand grazing hers.

“He’s not right, Klara, you belong here.” Marc broke the silence, his head turning to look at her.

“It’s OK,” she told the ceiling. She realised he wasn’t going to leave her to her corner, so shifted to sit up. She felt Marc’s hand brushing her back, “Floor’s filthy,” he muttered, swiping dust and dirt from the back of her dress. She shrugged, getting to her feet with numb legs. Marc matched her movements and led her back to his wing.

Klara stopped at the threshold of the King’s Wing. “I can… I can stay somewhere else if you want me to,” she told the floor, wanting to give Marc an option out. He didn’t need her, she knew that.

Marc chuckled, “Don’t be silly, it’s been an emotional evening, let’s get you to bed.” He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her firmly up the stairs. He guided her to the bedroom, his arm dropping from her waist. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, gorgeous.”

She swallowed and met his eye. “It’s OK, we don’t have to. Goodnight.” She slowly closed the door on him, knowing that it would be her last night in the room.