Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 503

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 503

Chapter 5: My Study Partner

*Lena*

Abigail was running her fingers through my hair, her fingers twisting my pale golden locks into a tight braid.

“I’m going to miss doing this for you,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she tied the end of the braid with a ribbon.

“I won’t be gone forever. Just six weeks, maybe less,” I replied, turning to face her. I wrapped her in an embrace, taking a deep breath as we sat on a bench on the train platform in Morhan. We’d spent the last three days packing up my meager belongings into a trunk and saying our goodbyes, which had included one last night out along the strip of bars that lined the street below our apartment.

Heather and Viviene were back at home, studying for their finals this upcoming week and preparing for their field studies. Abigail should have been studying too, but she’d insisted on walking me to the train station.

“I’m going to Mirage for my study,” she breathed, leaning against the bench with her feet propped up on the trunk. I smiled at her, arching my brow. She met my eye and smirked, rolling her eyes. “The florist who makes the arrangements for the castle asked for a student from Morhan, and I applied.”

“I’m not surprised you got it,” I grinned, nudging her with my elbow.

Abigail, always oozing with confidence, was mum about her studies. She came from a family of flower farmers in southern Findali, and grew up poor, but she hadn’t let that stop her. She was incredibly gifted and could name a type of flower just by touching the petals, or by smell, even if she had her eyes closed. Her flower arrangements that often littered our apartment had always been insanely extravagant.

But being a florist was something most students at Morhan thumbed their noses at, often putting more stock into being a biologist or climate scientist. I often thought that chipped away at Abigail, especially with Heather, Viv, and I being her roommates.

But Abigail’s creations added beauty to our mundane, textbook-filled world.

“Maybe you’ll make arrangements for the Luna Queen to fawn over while she sips her afternoon tea,” I teased, nudging her again.

Abigail smiled, shaking her head. “I am excited about it, you know, despite how I act.

Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of one of the princes of Poldesse. I heard they come to Mirage quite often.”

I shrugged, leaning back against the bench and looking out over the train tracks.

“Or, maybe I’ll see the princess. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a picture of her.”

braid around my finger.

and do, I promise.” Abigail patted

I replied, standing up and slinging a duffle bag over my shoulder. “Maybe I’ll find the missing Morhan student while

Abigail warned, motioning for the station attendant to help us with the

train rolled to a stop in front of us. “I don’t know who, but I’ll have a partner to work with during the next couple of weeks. I won’t be alone, so don’t worry about me, okay?” I pulled Abigail in for one final hug, squeezing her until she dramatically pretended to

seat on the train, watching as her bright, red hair faded from

Morhan fade from view. The rolling grasslands of western Finaldi sped past as I slipped in and out of sleep. It was a six- hour journey to Crimson Creek; one of the last

replayed the last three days. I’d taken my final, barely paying attention as my pencil worked across my last true assignment of my college career. I’d said my goodbyes to friends, and my beloved roommates. I’d packed up the room I’d shared with Heather for three years, taking down the pictures I had taped to the

a glimpse of

the past. Whatever happened in Crimson Creek, well, that was

exactly what Abigail had described. It was ancient, all of its buildings made of stone and its streets bumpy and incredibly narrow, paved with broken cobblestone. It was a balmy Sunday afternoon, and a small market was visible in the distance as I stood on the

miles away, however, the black, gnarled trees were just specks against the soft

an engine approaching and turned my head, seeing a beat-up old truck bouncing over the

along the train tracks and turning its lights off. A figure stepped out, calling

a Morhan student?” she asked, walking up onto the platform. I nodded, taking her hand as she extended it in greeting. “I’m Bethany, one of the farmhands at the Radcliffe farm. This all you got?” she said, motioning toward the trunk and duffle bag sitting on the ground next to me. I nodded, and she arched her brow, chuckling a little as she slung the duffle bag over

pick up the trunk and walk it across the platform and down the stairs. “I

at the farm last night. We didn’t even have a room set

the truck. Bethany shrugged, clapping her hands together as she moved toward the driver’s

and started bossing all of us around,

into the passenger’s seat with my

put the truck in gear, cursing under her

than my grandfather,’ she laughed,

“Sure,” I said, smiling.

was jovial, and not at all like the strange villagers Abigail had animatedly described. She smelled like soil, and green things, which sent a thrill through me. She likely knew her stuff, based on

me tomorrow, after settling in. Breakfast is at seven sharp, if you miss it, too bad. We have a

I asked, glancing over at

though likely

really bad harvest this year. This is only my second season on the farm, but compared to last year, it’s a

narrowing my

guessin’. Your research partner was going to

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