Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Chapter 232: This is Really Happening

Maeve

Horace stood in the shelter of the darkened corridor, a candle in his hand. He was dressed for bed, a silly cotton nightcap and long nightshirt covering his withered body. .

Oh, Horace was a grumpy old bat. He didn’t care that people thought that of him, either. Gemma and I had playfully tried to guess his age, once, and I don’t think my guess of one-hundred was far from the truth.

Usually he ignored me, only giving me a very stern passing glance, but something in his beady black eyes made a shiver run up my spine as he watched me move away from the door.

“I heard something, Horace,”

“Rats, probably. Nothing you need to pay any mind. Go to bed, mistress. You shouldn’t be wandering the halls at this hour.” He motioned his hand to shoo me away, narrowing his eyes as I passed by and walked back toward the stairs.

Horace acted as an advisor to Ernest and his Beta, Lance. I never saw Lance; apparently he lived in the village with his family just off the castle’s ground, but Horace and Ernest were constantly in each other’s company. In the rare event that Horace wasn’t lurking behind Ernest like a shadow, he was bothering Gemma, giving her some remedial task or lecture.

I looked over my shoulder, noticing Horace staring after me. I looked down at my short evening dress, quickly crossing my hands over my chest as I stepped down the stairs, a faint blush rising on my cheeks.

I woke at noon, the hot sun beating down through the windows and warming my sheets to an uncomfortable temperature. I rose, slowly, stretching my legs before stepping out of bed and cranking the window open to let in the air.

I could feel my hair shrinking into tight ringlets the second the stifling humidity touched me, and started to crank the window closed again when a knock sounded on my door and a maid stepped in, carrying a tray of food.

“Impeccable timing,” I said with a smile, nodding my thanks as she set the tray down on top of the dresser and turned to take her leave. “Wait! Did the post come today?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, bobbing her head in farewell,

That’s odd. I hadn’t had a single letter from home in the past three weeks. The post arrived weekly, and usually I would receive a few letters at a time from my parents and Rowan. I wrote to them every night, after all.

I pursed my lips, looking at myself in the mirror before pulling the oversized T-shirt I slept in over the top of my head. Mom always wrote me back with long, beautiful letters filled with pressed flowers and recipes for my favorite foods to give to the kitchen. Dad usually added a line or two, mostly just to tell me to behave myself. Rowan was my spy, however, and I looked forward to his letters the most. I counted on him feeding me the most up to date gossip from back home.

But three weeks with nothing?

pulled on one of the new dresses Gemma had bought for me and headed out the door, not bothering to put shoes on as padded across the carpeted floor toward the stairs. Ernest always lunched in his office; he would know what was happening with the mail.

I walked into his office on the first floor without knocking, sitting down in one of the large leather chairs in front of his desk. He looked at me, surprised, and shut the ledger he was pouring over. “Maeve…?”

the post? I

this morning,” he said, tapping his pen on his desk.

my parents. And my brother. I’m

“If something were amiss in Winter Forest I would

It was faster to send word by plane during times of emergency, or even warriors

post office

I appreciate

wide, generous smile. I guess he

I turned toward the door. That’s when I noticed it out of the corner of my eye; a baby blue cardigan with fake pearls instead of buttons. It was laid out over the sofa along the far wall of his

his face. I gave him a look, arching my brow

sure,” I said playfully. Should I

he hung his head, bringing his hands to his face. He obviously hadn’t meant to

a laugh as I

back into his office and pry every detail out of him, but based on the look on his face, Ernest wasn’t going to say

relatively new addition. There were a few other people in the gym, a handful of warriors playing basketball and lifting weights, but no one seemed to mind when

birthday, the cast of an opera had visited the Winter Forest pack. All of

people. I kept it as a hobby, and even

“Can I join you?”

looked over my shoulder, letting go of the bar as Aaron approached, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Absolutely not,” I said,

he shrugged, tilting his head in the direction of the warriors playing basketball. “I’m

“Basketball?”

of it before coming here-” he paused, biting his

I guess it’s not

you tonight. You can

stupid. But he gave me a quizzical look, an expression of confusion, then concern, playing over his

one

“Tell me what?”

at the men playing basketball and then stepped toward

what? She’s still in the village, I think. I haven’t

looking me straight in the eyes. It was quite intimidating, honestly, and

Aaron? Why are