Page 2 of Alpha's Impostor Bride

A woman appears, wearing a maid’s attire. “Your Majesty?”

Majesty? Shocked, I stare at the leader. Is he really King Cedric Raine? This hulking beast of a man?

He hands the end of my chain to the woman. “Bathe her. She smells.”

The woman’s expression doesn’t flicker. “What about the chains, Sire?”

“They stay on.”

“Very well.” She looks at me now. “Come along, Miss.”

“You don’t have to treat her with dignity. She’s a prisoner, Harriet,” one of the men next to the king says, sneering. “You’re looking at the arrogant Princess Vivian. Give her the treatment she deserves. She’s here to be a slave after—”

A low growl fills the room, and everybody freezes, including the man who was running his mouth. “This woman belongs to me. I won’t tolerate any disrespect directed at what is mine.”

“But, Cedric!” the man who was speaking before protested, his face pale. “You know what her crimes are—”

“Silence!” The king’s tone is cold and filled with finality. “Derrick, go see to our troops. Harriet, do as you’re told. And feed her.”

Harriet holds the end of the chain in her hand but doesn’t tug on it. Instead, she speaks quietly. “Follow me, Miss.”

I’m led out of the throne room into another hallway. The ceilings are high, no windows anywhere. Unlike the Eastern palace, there are no colorful tapestries or portraits. The walls are bare, a dismal gray that makes me shiver. My mind is a tangled web of confusion, my body poised on the edge. I don’t know what is happening.

Princess Vivian told me I would die in her stead, that the Northern wolves would rip me to shreds. I was ordered to endure it. As she left, she hurled one last look at me, telling me she wished it would hurt like hell.

So, why didn’t I run?

Why did I stay in her room?

Had I really begun to see myself through her eyes over the years? As someone so utterly worthless?

I stare ahead, unsure of the horrors that face me. King Cedric said I belong to him. Is he going to amuse himself with me like Vivian did?

My claws dig anxiously into my palms.

Will I have to take my clothes off in front of the soldiers like Vivian made me do?

Bile rises to my throat, and I stagger.

“Careful there, Miss.” Harriet steadies me, her hands on my upper arms.

I nod mutely before whispering a hoarse, “Sorry.”

The room we enter is dimly lit, and there are maids waiting there. When they see me, their eyes widen. Unlike Harriet, they don’t do a good job of hiding their feelings.

Disdain, disgust, hatred.

I look down at the floor, far too familiar with such emotions being aimed at me.

“Brina, fill the tub. We have to give her a bath.”

One of the maids starts, and she scowls at me. She opens her mouth, but Harriet glares at her, and she scurries toward the tub.

“You two. Help me undress her.”

Two of the maids approach me, and one of them sighs loudly. “How can we take off her clothes with these chains, Harriet?”

“What you can’t take off, cut off,” Harriet instructs. “Fetch some scissors.”

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