“Preg…pregnant?” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as shock coursed through me.
Amira, seated on Max’s lap, shared a knowing look with her mate before turning her attention back to me. “Yes,” she replied simply, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “You look surprised, sister. Did you not expect me to be pregnant?”
I forced a smile shaking my head, “I…I didn’t know,” I admitted, my voice a bit shaky. I was happy for her truly but a part of me is envious that she got her life all figured out.
Amira just shrugged, “You wouldn’t have known… a witch gave me a potion to hide my scent because of enemies,” she revealed, her words hanging heavy in the air. “Olivia would be coming to assist me if there would be any complications.”
I frowned, confusion swirling within me as I struggled to make sense of her words. Why Olivia? Why not another healer? But before I could voice my concerns, Max’s urgent shout shattered the fragile peace of the moment.
“Guards!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the room with a sense of urgency that sent a shiver down my spine.
I turned just in time to see the door swing open, revealing a group of guards moving towards me to hold my arms. Panic clawed at my chest as I struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. “What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice trembling with fear as the guards pulled me against the door.
“Today is Sunday,” Amira explained softly, “You need to receive your weekly whips. I’m sorry, sister, that I have not been able to help.”
She looked at me with sympathy, the type of look that would make one heart break.
I sighed and wanted to say something but the guards were already upon me, their rough hands dragging me away.
As I was pulled further and further away from the room, just before the door shut I had seen her eyes. Anything but innocent or sorrowful. It was the sinister glint in Amira’s eyes, the flicker of malice hidden beneath those violet eyes, that left me trembling with a newfound fear.
****
Inside a dimly lit basement, I lay on the bed while my friend, Olivia, carefully tended to my wounds. She was the only person in the castle who believed in my innocence. As an omega, my healing was slower, making Olivia’s help crucial in removing the silver splinters and sewing up my torn flesh. We have been friends since the day I was sentenced to this situation, where she had come to deliver food to the prisoners.
That night, I would have died from my wounds but she had healed me, I was scared that someone would find out but till now no one did.
I winced as Olivia worked, the pain still raw despite her gentle touch. “Today’s whipping seemed heavier than the others,” she observed, her brow furrowed with concern.
I nodded weakly, feeling drained from the ordeal. “I think it’s because my back doesn’t have scars anymore. Whenever he does not see the designs he had done on my back with his whip, it ticks him off.”
