Lucien Volkov:
The first person who came to my mind was the Omegas’ head, Helena.
"Send her to me," I asked my Beta and then stopped a passing doctor, "I need a room that can be used as my office,’
The doctor bowed immediately, "Of course, your highness. Let me take you there."
I was about to walk away when I saw my mother approaching, "Lucien," she called out, "What happened? Why is the slave admitted to the hospital?" Her gaze kept flickering to the treatment room, "Are you sure she isn’t putting on a show?"
Zorro’s ears perked up at our mate’s insults, but thank Goddess, he stayed silent. I studied her face for a second before nodding my head, "Maybe, mother." The lie came easily.
Her shoulders seemed to relax, "I knew it," she snorted, "That girl looks meek, but such women!" She shook her head, "They can be very cunning when they want attention."
She headed to the treatment room, but I quickly stepped in front of the door.
My mother frowned at me, "What’re you doing?"
"Mother," I placed my hand on her shoulders, "They are treating her."
"Yes... and I’m the Queen. I can go inside."
No, she can’t! Zorro growled in my head.
"Not right now, mother," I lowered my voice, "If she’s pretending, we’ll learn nothing by confronting her."
That made her pause as her eyes narrowed while thinking. A moment later, she snapped her fingers, "Do you know why that collar malfunctioned, Lucien? She must have gotten her wolf. The machine doesn’t beep just like that."
I remained silent, but my mother kept speaking confidently, "The girl claims she never had one. She might be a late bloomer."
I nodded at her, "You can be right, mother," Her lips curved with satisfaction, "Mother. We don’t want to alert her. Okay?"
My mother nodded with suppressed excitement, "That’s a good idea, son," She patted my arm, "Observe her. Eventually, she’ll make a mistake."
"I agree, mother. But don’t worry. I’ll handle it."
She nodded and finally turned away. I watched her leave until she disappeared around the corner.
***
The office that was given to me was too small and plain. A wooden desk sat near the window. I had barely taken a seat when a knock sounded.
"Enter!"
The door opened, and Helena stepped inside. I could see fear on her face. Of course, it doesn’t happen every day when you are a mere servant in the palace and get a call from the Alpha King.
Her hands clasped tightly together, and she avoided meeting my eyes. I slowly leaned back in my chair and studied her for a moment.
"Your Highness. You called me..." She asked quietly.
"Yes. And you know why you’re called here." She wasn’t a fool. She knew exactly why I’d called her.
"What do you want to know, Your Highness?" she asked again, her gaze still lowered.
"Everything. Whatever you know about that girl."
Her head lifted slightly, "The slave?" she asked hesitantly. Zorro stirred at the mention of the word.
I gave her a short nod, "Tell me everything you’ve noticed. Every little detail. I don’t care how insignificant it seems."
Helena swallowed and nodded. For several seconds, she remained silent as if deciding where to begin, "On her first few days... she got... bullied..."
My brows furrowed at her confession, though it was expected. Helena quickly lowered her head, "My apologies, Your Highness... I shouldn’t have allowed it," she explained quickly, but I didn’t respond.
I just waited.
"The Omegas... they already hated her because of what happened to our Princess. Most of us knew she was his sister..." She rubbed her palms together nervously, "She was kneeling... all the time... of course. We gave her the... least comfortable tasks... as ordered ... by Her Highness... our queen," Her expression grew a little puzzled, "B...but Your Highness... she never complained."
I stayed quiet, not trying to interrupt her.
Helena shook her head, "She just... accepted everything..."
Someone clenched my heart painfully, but I didn’t let it show on my face. Helena continued, "The food we gave her wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exactly good either. It was just ordinary Omega food."
"And?" For some reason, my voice had turned gentle.
A faint frown crossed her face, "The way she ate it... it shocked us. It was like... she genuinely enjoyed it," Helena let out a small breath, "Sometimes Omegas complain if we offer them stale food. Her bread was from the previous night... as ordered... by the queen... but Arabella..." Helena’s lips found their first smile, "Arabella ate every bite as if she’d been handed a royal feast."
My fingers slowly curled around the armrest. Zorro’s faint howl rang in my head, but I stayed still.
"At one point," Helena admitted, "I thought she might ask for a second plate because she looked so ... hungry..."
I remembered the first day when she had arrived here. It looked like she had been walking for days. She must be hungry, and we sent her for her duties.
"But the request never came," Helena almost whispered as if... as if she was trying to control her tears.
I looked away for a moment, thinking this was it. But then Helena shifted her weight, and my attention returned to her.
"Your Highness," she cleared her throat, "She spent hours folding clothes in the laundry area while kneeling. By the time she was finished, I could sense her knees hurt, but she just smiled at me."
"She..." I swiped my tongue over my lips, "she said nothing?"
Helena shook he head, "The day we got her examined by a healer ... in your room..." I nodded when she looked up for a while.
"What about it?" I asked her, leaning forward. Helena looked uncomfortable, "We saw scars."
"What kind of scars?"
"They were not recent. They were... long marks across her back. I think... they were whip marks."
I slowly rose from the chair. Whip marks?
"Are you sure?" I asked her.
"That’s what they looked like, your Highness!"
I turned toward a window, and my reflection stared back at me. Cold. Angry. Mad at myself.
"My king," she said softly behind me. "She also said something strange when the healer was treating her."
I glanced over my shoulder, "What was it?"
"The healer was preparing an injection for her when she told the healer that one milliliter wasn’t enough for her. Two milliliters would be fine."
"Milliliters of what?" I, at last, turned around.
"Wolfsbane," Helena said with a bow, "She thought we were giving her wolfsbane. And that might be the reason she never got her period or her wolf, though she turned eighteen a few weeks back."