Emotions

With Vasily, it was all about emotions. He was all sunshine and butterflies and unconditional love. He liked kisses on the cheek and stomach-tickles and holding hands while walking down the street.

Volscian thought otherwise. He liked lovely bodies and pretty faces and people he could objectify. He liked deep, penetrating kisses and long fingernails digging into his back and a shapely leg slung over his shoulder.

Vasily would always smile brightly, tilting his head to the side so that his long orange bangs fell in his eyes, so of course I’d have to brush the strands away with eager fingers.

Volscian always yelled and cursed and hurt me and so I had to flinch away from even Vasily’s gentle touches, because it was a survival instinct.

I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the main hall. It was supposed to be spotless, but whenever it began to shine one of the children ran through the room and ruined my progress. It was tiring and aggravating and I wanted to cry because I knew if I said anything to them I’d be in trouble, because they were his children—the little princes and princesses—and I was just a servant.

I stared down at my gloves, the ones Vasily had given me for Christmas. Unlike me, he got paid for his work—although not much—so he always gave me simple, practical gifts. I was never disappointed by them, though—they ended up being invaluable.

And he was so good with presentation, Vasily. He had waited until I finished opening them, and stopped me while I was blinking at them—they were just normal yellow rubber gloves—to take my hand. “To protect your lovely hands,” he had softly murmured, kissing a knuckle.

My hands weren’t lovely, though—my fingers were short and stubby, and I kept my fingernails short because they always got in the way when I was cleaning. But Vasily… he made me believe him, when he said those things so sweetly. He made me believe that I was beautiful.

The sound of high-heeled shoes tapping across the floor, coming toward me, shook me out of my stupor. I glanced up; it was the queen, Etna. She was a beautiful woman—tall, with cascading blonde curls and large hazel eyes.

She never smiled—or at least never around me. She had despised me for a very long time, although I couldn’t imagine why. Her hate for me was matched only by the fierce love she felt for her husband, Volscian.

“Good morning, your Highness,” I croaked as I struggled to my feet, curtsying.

Her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. I trembled, wondering what I had done. “Homewrecker,” she spat; my eyes widened as I felt her palm smash into my cheek.

I staggered, my eyes watering from the pain. “What?” I gasped, bringing a hand to my stinging face.

“You’re just a little whore! I don’t know what he sees in you! There’s no way he’d leave me for a slut like you!”

I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks as I fell back on the floor, listening to her screeching. She huffed angrily and stalked away, up the marble stairs.

Feeling too sick to continue cleaning, I leaned against the wall and cried. I didn’t care anymore what my punishment would be—surely I’d be punished anyway, as always.

I wasn’t stupid—I could gather what Etna had been so upset about. It frightened me, the thought of it, and I prayed that she was just a violent, insecure woman driven by her fear of loss.

But she wasn’t.

---

I was in the conference room, wringing my dirty hands together as I sat in an uncomfortable seat. The room was dark, lit only by the weak sunlight that filtered through the curtained windows.

His hair was dark, brushed carelessly across his forehead and over his shoulder. His eyes held a look of abandon—he was a man who would easily throw away something he had once cherished to pursue something else.

He leaned forward, placing a hand on the arm of my chair. He was close—much too close—and it made me uncomfortable. “How would you like to become queen, lovely?” he asked in his deep voice that made me shudder, brushing callused fingers across my cheek.

“I don’t want it… please, just step back a little…” I murmured, shutting my eyes and vehemently shaking my head. It was hard to breathe with him standing in front of me, stifling me with his closeness.

There was a note of shock in his voice. “You don’t want to be queen?”

“No! I don’t want any of that… I’m fine with just being a servant.”

There was a laugh. “That’s too bad for you, then—you can’t see an opportunity when it bites you on the nose, can you?” A finger poked at the tip of my nose and I shuddered. “It hardly matters, though—you’re mine whether you want it or not.”

My eyes flew open. “B-but what about your wife? And your children?” I asked, my voice rising from my nervousness.

“What about them?” he asked, putting his hands on my shoulders.

“Th-they exist!”

“So? I was planning on getting a divorce anyway.”

I whimpered as he pushed against my shoulders, struggling against him with little success.

“Do stay still.”

“Stop it! Just leave me alone!”

“You’ll enjoy it a lot more if you quit trying to get away, you know,” he suggested pointedly.

“What is this about anyway? Do you… do you have feelings for me or something?”

He let go of me momentarily so that he could laugh behind his hand. “Heh heh… you’re a silly little girl, aren’t you? Of course I don’t have feelings for you, you idiot. Unless you consider… lust a feeling.”

I gulped, my wide eyes following his movements as his hands returned to my shoulders.

What could I do? I was a werewolf, certainly—a species well-known for their brute strength—but he was the king. The king was the strongest werewolf there was, and I was merely a servant. There was no way I could…

But I had to try.

I punched the face that was swimming in front of me as hard as I could; Volscian released me with a curse, his hand coming up to his eye. Without a glance back, I rushed for the door. It was locked, and my nervousness caused my fingers to slip uselessly against the lock for a few dangerous moments before it finally slid and I forced the door open, slipping and sliding down the hallway.

But he had forgotten about his eye; when I glanced back, I saw that it was bleeding. I had hit him good. But he was chasing after me, and he was much faster than I was. Puffing my way forward, I saw a sword case leaning against the wall. With little hesitation I plunged my fist inside, breaking the glass on my knuckles. The little cuts in my hand were bleeding, and probably had glass shards in them, but I grasped the sword anyway and tugged it out, cutting deeply into my arm along the way.

He was right behind me, and yanked me backward my shoulders. I lay on my back, trying to regain the ability to breathe. My bloody fingers clutched tightly at the sword hilt; I couldn’t let go. If I did, I’d be worse than dead.

Volscian was standing over me, an evil smirk twisting his lips. “This is a fine show of resistance, darling, but it’s useless. What do you plan to do with that sword, hmm? Will you stand up and plunge it through my heart? Will you slice off one of my arms?”

I struggled to my feet, sword in hand. I glared at him, but I knew that there was truth in his words. It hurt to know that I had come this far, only to fail.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want him or his lust or his violence. “Stay away!” I cried, brandishing the sword at him. “I’ll kill you! If you come any closer, I’ll kill you!”

“Now, we can’t have that, can we?” he asked thoughtfully. “Let go of the sword, Cassandra,” he said in a commanding voice.

I felt the overpowering force that was my sire’s command rising up in my brain. It was taking over, trying to control my muscles—and if I resisted, the strain it would take would kill me.

“No!” I cried, and threw the sword with as much force as I could muster. The weak resistance I had put up, coupled with the ordeal I had suffered, took all the strength I had, and I crumpled to the floor.

Volscian stared, wide-eyed, at the sword embedded in his chest. Blood poured from his wound like thick, red ink from an overturned well.

I had gotten his heart.

His body fell as I stared. Knowing the danger had subsided, I allowed my eyes to close.

Someone found our collapsed bodies in the hall an hour later by following the dark path my blood had made on the shiny floor.

And that was how I became queen.