“You won’t do this to me,” I badge into the Alpha King’s study, marching towards his frame.
Gods, I’ve never wanted to skewer a man to a flagpole. I’ve never wanted to castrate someone!
The Alpha King remains quiet on his desk, his inked feather swiftly moving across a sheet of paper. His eyelashes are lowered in a way that tells me he is putting all his concentration into his work, inky locks of his wavy hair falling over his forehead in a scattered curtain frame.
The fact that King Cardan has the audacity to ignore my presence as if I am nothing but one of the shelves in his library makes me so furious I want to scream at him.
“I refuse to be removed! This isn’t fair-“
“Wear wool. An arasaid, if you prefer,” he cuts me off, still not looking up from his work.
My confusion fades t
