Page 2 of Claimed By the King's Gamma

Ivy shakes her head, her expression resolute.“A chance at what?A life without you?That’s no life at all.”She cups my face in her hands.“We die together or not at all; that’s the deal—more than my life, Abbie; more than my life—I have no purpose without you.”

I want to argue, to beg her to reconsider, but I know that look in her eyes.There’s no changing her mind.Instead, I pull her close, burying my face in her shoulder as we cling to each other.The moment is short-lived when I hear the sharp rap on the door and Mrs.Daley’s voice screeching at us from the other side of the door.

“Get up!You have chores!”The sharp edge of her voice slices through the tense quietude of our room.My fingers tighten around Ivy’s, my nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm.She doesn’t flinch; instead, she squeezes back just as hard.

“Coming, Mrs.Daley,” Ivy answers for both of us while I’m suddenly struggling against the fear that claws and gnashes in my stomach at having to put up with Mrs.Daley for another day.

Ivy eases herself up first, wincing as her legs take her weight.She turns back to me, trying to give me an encouraging smile.Ivy falters when she sees my worried expression.

“It’ll be okay,” she insists quietly, reaching for a clean dress hanging on a peg by the small window.

“It won’t,” I insist, but it’s a fight we’ve had a dozen times; there’s no point in it now.I push to my feet, my body aching violently.I feel like a shadow of myself like something vital has been ripped away.

“Now, Rogues, these kids need feeding!”Mrs.Daley bangs on the door while Ivy rushes to change, knowing walking out in her torn clothes will get her another whipping.

Ivy slips into the brown, worn-out dress in seconds, not caring for her modesty in front of me; we’ve been together since we were children, what haven’t we seen of each other?Once dressed, she hurries over to me and helps me get ready.I’m more than just weakened by my first shifting - the emotional turmoil of what it means is taking its toll.

“Stop worrying so much,” Ivy whispers, helping me pull on a similar ragged dress.Her voice is barely above a whisper, afraid Mrs.Daley might overhear our conversation.Ivy places a hand on my bare shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re stronger than you think, Abbie,” she says, her blue eyes meeting mine through the mirror in front of us.“We’ll make it through this together.”

The banging on the door continues.Each thud resounds in my head and sends my heart racing.There will be dire consequences if we don’t comply with Mrs.Daley’s demands quickly.

Ivy gives me one last reassuring glint in her eyes before she opens the door to let Mrs.Daley in.The elder woman’s hardened gaze sweeps over us; there’s no room for sympathy in those cold eyes of hers.

“Get your lazy bones moving,” she snaps before turning on her heel and leaving us to race against time once again.

We step into the bustling kitchen filled with young children who are each in a state of neglect.Mrs.Daley reserves her worst treatment for us, but all the kids here are malnourished and neglected.

“Quit your dawdling!”the sharp tone comes again, demanding and potent with impatience.

“All right, all right!”Ivy calls, slipping into her apron with hurried movements.I am quick to do the same when I see Mrs.Daley’s hand tighten around the tip of her cane.She looks like she is itching to use it.The first whack of the day is always the worst.

---