The sun slipping in through the curtains stirs me from my fitful sleep; I blink away the ray of sunlight beaming across my face and groan at how sore my body was. Everything felt heavy; my body was used to the lack of food and water from my time in school; it was common for them to go a day or two in between meals while training. 

A full day was not much of a bother, though my stomach protested to its empty state. 

Reality hits me all over again as I come to terms with my situation: my parents, my siblings, and possibly the entirety of the court were gone. There would be no political support within this castle for the lone surviving Prince. 

Slipping out of the sheets, I make my way to the large window.

Pressing my fingers into the glass, I look out into the courtyard and shudder when I see them—men walking among the woods surrounding our castle and through the yard in some kind of formation. 

So few had come into our home, and they had been met with minimal resistance. It was an embarrassment. I imagined they were like vermin, with so many more you couldn't see. I forced myself to look at them, though I felt my heart pounding with the familiar fear of a rabbit caught in a snare.  

Distance footsteps echo through the haul; I keep my eyes focused, for I don't want to see my impending slaughter coming. Quietly, I count, as if a sudden movement might spur the chase. I'm not waiting long; my door opens and closes with a resounding slam of someone not used to the weight of well-made doors. 

 Freezing in place, I swallow back the tremble that racks through my body. 

The window's glass lacks the sharpness to make out the features of the man who stands behind me, though I can see his blurry image reflected before me. He says nothing; he must wonder if I'm deaf, considering I haven't acknowledged his presence or even moved since he entered.

Do not show your weakness; play the part, and you won't have to defend yourself. 

 Slowly, I glance over my shoulder and see the man watching me with a look of frustration.

The expression of disapproval immediately offends me, and I quickly turn on my heel to face him, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

 "Well?" I challenge. 

Just as I did with the dragons who taught me, I caught his gaze and still my body. No matter how I wanted to stagger back, retreat, and plead forgiveness, mercy was never given to those who begged. 

The brute is tall, shocking compared to my meager height. He's taller than me by at least 6 inches, though he is not overly large as I expected. His proportions are strong, broad in his chest but slimmer in his waist than I anticipated. Most slaves I had seen were massive; this man was nowhere near the biggest. 

I take in his clothes, his leather vest over his thin shirt that stretches over his chest. His worn leggings and rugged leather tall boots suggest he doesn't invest much time in clothes. 

He must think I look ridiculous in my white robes, what was left of them at least. Quickly, I move to snatch the top half of my garment from a nearby chair, shoving my arms into the sleeves and tying the front. Cocking an eyebrow, he pulls his lips into a thin line, his palm resting on the hilt of his sword as his hand flexes. 

The startling light eyes take me in, we regard each other, he's as cautious of me as I am of him.

"I suppose I expected more." The man speaks. 

His voice is smooth and low, with an accent that suggested he'd hailed from England. Had my father truly gone so far to harvest his raw materials? 

 What more could I possibly give? He'd taken everything I had. 

I laugh only to shrug half-heartedly.

"Sorry to disappoint." My response is tight. I'm struggling with English, which is not my native tongue. I've had lessons in English, though I'm sure there are parts that are missing from my knowledge; it had not been a priority of mine, considering my nation owned my life. 

As Solomonari, I was supposed to be preparing for travel, to travel across our lands, and to provide much-needed measures to improve crops and weather control. I was never supposed to leave, to have a life, or to do anything beyond serving my country. 

His expression morphs into a slightly more amused look, observing me as a cat does a mouse. I might be more interesting to him alive than dead, and I'm unsure which option I was hoping for. 

For the fate of the mouse, I always wished the torment was short-lived, for it seemed there was no chance of escape for the tiny creature. Now, on this side of the predator, I wonder if I just had little faith in the mouse.  

"Your family is dead." My captor confirms. "Your court is dismantled, your slaves liberated."

While I inhale sharply, I don't allow my face to break, for he's giving me nothing new. I saw my father and mother die before my own eyes; I knew my brothers were on the approach and had no means to save themselves. 

These brutes had succeeded when they locked me away; my family's hope had been my father and I, and we both failed them. 

If I allow myself to feel it, I will lose it right here, and I can't allow that to happen. Standing a little taller, I square my shoulders while waiting for him to continue. 

"I have spared you because..." He trails off, considering the thought. "You looked as pleased as I did when that aged bastard fell. I assumed that if any of this sorry lot could reverse this hell, it would be the one who showed any ounce of magical ability."

"I didn't-"

Raising his hand, his eyes darken, "Frost on your fingertips." Twiddling his fingers, he seems to be stretching his patience even speaking with me. 

At this, I scoff and roll my eyes only to hear a low sound, a rumble, a growl. It causes my eyes to widen. I watch this man and realize that he is the one who is growling.

"Blasphemy!" I snap, bewildered. "Why on earth would I do that? I'm the one my father sent away; you killed any chance of getting this curse lifted when killed that 'aged bastard'." I shake my head with a disgusted laugh, "You picked the wrong son, so let's not drag this out. Do what you must with me, I will not help you." 

I'd been sentenced to trial by fire. I suppose I was no different than the vermin that invaded this castle, and the thought alone makes the ache in the pit of my stomach deepen. I just kept coming back, no matter how they tried to rid themselves of me. Even now, I'd been spared when they all lay rotting on the throne room floor. 

Restraint crosses the man's face; he's angry, which quietly pleases me.

"You've still got fight in you, good- that will serve you well for what's to come. I'm ill inclined to care what you believe you are capable of; you see, I'm well versed in the essence of magical capability. Cursed and what have you... the presence you were putting off in that throne room was a dead giveaway of who the real potential threat was. Now... I will admit it was quite the disappointment that you gave up so easily."

My throat thickens; I was correct; it was him. This man was the wolf who slaughtered them, the wolf who killed my mother.

"Make a connection?" He questions. The smallest smirks at the corner of his mouth make his cheek dimple, and I glower back in response, feeling the magic threatening to charge my fingertips. 

"You've got nothing to hold against me; you've destroyed every ounce of leverage you might have had. I wouldn't help you if you set my damned feet on the pyre!" I snarled through my teeth.

"Punishment can easily be issued if you refuse to cooperate." 

"I'm sure there is little you can do to me that hasn't already been done." I'm impressed at how strong I sound, though the smirk that crosses this wicked man's face causes me to question exactly how strong my resolve was. 

My captor is beside me quicker than I can blink, staggering me with his presence. His scent is strong, mixed with the woods, sweat, and leather, and I grimace at the close proximity to someone so filthy. It was obvious that he'd been unable to bathe for the last few nights. 

His sun-kissed skin contrasts starkly against my washed-out olive flesh; my time out of the sun had wreaked havoc on my skin tone. Despite the desire to give up ground, I refuse to falter in my position. Meeting his gaze, my jaw tightens as I realize that his body is vibrating, with immense heat radiating off of him. 

He feels like he is a thousand degrees, almost unbearable in such close quarters.

The large, steady hand grips my arm, causing me to flinch at the iron-like fingers that threaten to crush my forearm. Dragging me two short steps to the window, he shoves me against the glass to command that I look out it.

Rubbing my arm at the discomfort from the immense grip, I scowl out the window only to see my staff, who raised me when my family was too busy to bother. On their knees, terrified, in between two massive wolves, he had found his leverage. 

My fingers closed, my face had given too much away, and there was desperation where I should have met him with iron resolve. A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I curse, wiping at it roughly.

I'd been trained to endure, to overcome; whatever happened to the carcass that was my body mattered little to me compared to how much I cared for the staff that never asked for any of this.

Smug, he appears pleased with the effect his words have on me. 

"Well. It would appear that some of the royal family is capable of compassion. You will do as I say. Or every hour, on the hour, I will bring one of these people out here in front of this window. I will have my men gut them while you sit here, just like this, and watch them bleed out onto the grass and I will leave their bodies there for the buzzards. Keep refusing, and I will repeat this process until you decide you want to be more helpful. 

Do you understand?"

My heart is pounding; I can't allow this. I have had training, and I should do something!

 I spin on my heel and hurl my balled fist toward his face, only to have it deflected as he grips my wrist with his heavy hand. Once more, his body begins to vibrate as the wolf inside attempts to crawl to the surface; the heat makes me want to pull away from him, but I'm trapped between the window and his body.

My captor's stubbled jaw sets as those light eyes bore into me, wondering if I'm worth the trouble, but that amusement flickers. "Interesting that you haven't even attempted to use your magic... I hope you aren't betting the lives of your staff on something you're incapable of. I'm not always right, but I'm seldom ever wrong... and yet, perhaps I misjudged your ability?" 

I can't allow him to kill anyone else; my love for my people is not limited to the horrors inflicted on me by my family. For them, I could figure it out, or at the very least, I'd have to try until I could figure out a way to kill these beasts.

"Killing you would unleash your horde upon me. If you'd like to play the part of the barbarian, best keep to that role and worry not why I choose to spare you. Yes, I will help you." I spit.

"I don't think I like your tone." The taller male presses, and when I'm about to retaliate, he continues. I don't even come up to his collar bone, perhaps I underestimated our height difference. "There is order in a pack just as there is in your monarchy, you are at the bottom, below the ants. You will refer to me as Alpha. You will do what I say when I say it without question. You will be my personal slave. Any falter in my instructions and there will be consequences. Try a move like that again, and I will show you a true display of power. I am your Alpha, and you have been conquered."

I can't believe what I am hearing. Twisting in his grasp, there is little hope of escaping from beasts with the ability equivalent to our best hounds. Wherever I went, he would surely track me, and then my people would suffer the consequences. I just needed to bide my time, to play along until he grew bored with me or I could figure out a way to save all of us. 

Glaring up at him with my own dark eyes, he waits expectantly and I resist the urge to spit in his face. Forcing a smile that doesn't touch my eyes, I nod once. "I understand." I breathe.

The man, now known as Alpha, tightens his grip on my wrist and pulls me against his body. My heart gallops in my chest, and I shove at him to free myself, feeling as though I might choke on the heat. I didn't want to touch him; he was still covered in dried blood, grit, mud, a walking massacre. 

"Release me, you smell vile." I seethe, turning my head away.

Alpha grips my jaw, "You understand, 'what'?" He demands. 

"I understand, Alpha." I managed through clenched teeth. 

It makes a hint of a smile curl at the corner of his full lips; true to his word, he releases me to take a step back. I gulp in the fresh air, relieved to escape the suffocating inferno.

"Well, my scent offends you and we can't have that, now can we? You can prove your loyalty to me by drawing me a bath, a test of your capabilities as a servant." His words stun me, and I stare at him, bewildered, though I see he is completely serious.

My society had not yet embraced modern plumbing. Drawing a bath was usually a job for two servants if we wanted it done quickly.

"We don't have running water here, and you know that." I snap at him; he has that amused but aggravated look again. I'm starting to believe that's just his natural face.

"Then I suppose you better start carrying buckets. You have an hour before I return. If you try and run, you know what will happen. I have your scent; it wouldn't be hard to track you. One hour." Alpha steps to the window, making a motion with his hand before exiting.

When he leaves, with the door wide open, my feet refuse to move towards my chance to escape. Quickly, I turned, looking out the window one more time to see them dragging my staff back towards the castle. Nobody was coming to save us, I was our last hope, and I had no idea how I was going to get us out of this.