Alpha's Healer

3

Melissa Spatiatis.

I stand frozen, my hand is still tingling from the force of the slap. My hands touched the web of scars that crisscrossed his face like a map of battles long fought and won. I gasp at the sight of them because it is only now, I’ve looked at them. Some are deep and jagged, relics of clashes with foes who had dared to challenge his authority. Others are fainter, ghostly reminders of past skirmishes that had left their mark upon his flesh.

I slapped him out of impulse. I slapped the Alpha king rumoured to be a beast of Gevaudan. I acted without thinking, driven by my emotion when his eyes laid on my bosom. Now, the gravity of my action sinks in as I behold the stern expression etched upon his face, his eyes ablaze with a mix of astonishment and rage.

My heart pounds in my chest as I take a step back, but he pulls me to him so that my lips are only a breath away from him. A tear rolls of my eyes and he holds it before it can fall from my cheeks, the callousness of his fingers graze my cheek.

“You slapped your king?” He asks, and my lips are quivering, unable to answer him. I know what I’ve done is treason already. To hit a king is a malicious thing, and the only punishment is death. What have I done? I was pleading with him to have mercy but now, I’ve elevated his anger. I should have held myself for one more second. He is after all king and I’m a subject. My life is in his hands regardless of whether he is right or wrong.

I look at him, his face is chiselled with sharp angles, reminiscent of a statue carved from granite while his eyes are a piercing shade of steel. They hold a fierce intensity, unyielding and uncompromising. Suddenly, he shifts away from me and unsheathes his sword with a fluid motion, the steel sings as it leaves its scabbard, the sound echoing through the room like a warning bell.

My eyes widen in fear, my breath catching in my throat as he turns the blade to my neck.

“You damn wench! Now, I have every right to strike you here. I have every right to ridicule you. You are nothing, you are dust…I can kill you and no one will remember you, even the book of life won’t have your name in it. Take off your clothes, wolfen!” His voice is low and commanding, dripping with menace, each syllable laced with the threat of violence.

Quickly, in fear of my life, my hands trembling as I obey, even though every fibre of me rebels against the indignity of the moment. As the garment slips from my shoulders, I place a hand across my bosom as I feel air touch my skin and it tells me that I’m exposed before him. I close my eyes, biting my lips in shame and peeling the fabric off my body.

I cannot even cry out. The sound of my tears may push him to punish me more.

“That’s enough, cover yourself.” He says wickedly, and I quickly turn my back away from him, fixing myself as fast as I can.

“Beswick!” The king says and Beswick enters.

“Release her father, but she stays here.”

I gasp when I hear that and I turn my back to him.

“Thank you, your majesty.” I say, knowing that I’m stuck here but at least my father is free. My hair has covered my face and it is obstructing my view of seeing him but that’s okay, I don’t want to see his evil face.

“Yes, your majesty…but what position is the wolfen?” The assistant general asks.

“She is my healer. If anything happens to me, she will save me and if she can’t, she will die. She will stay in a room closest to mine. When I’m awake, she must be awake and it is only when I rest my eyes she can sleep. Relay my words to the head of stewards. And let her tell the wolfen what it means to serve a king.” The king says and I exhale, my hands are still on the chest area of my clothes.

“Yes, sire.” Beswick says and looks at me. Underneath, my face is covered with my hair, I’m shaking and wondering how my life became this…I cannot even see my father or know my fate. The king is calling me a healer but I’m just a collateral…he doesn’t see me as a healer.

“Move it.”

I walk out of the throne room, unable to hold the sobs and gradually, my body begins to quake. As I follow Beswick in the grand halls of the castle, maids’ bustle about, their skirts swishing softly as they move past us. Some are carrying baskets laundered linens, and at the same time, armoured guards are passing by in a straight line. As I cry, they remain unmoved, their attention is fixed on their duties with a stoic indifference. To them, my tears are nothing more than a distant echo in the vast expanse of the castle, unworthy of their notice.

Beswick turns to the left and I follow in suite. After he enters into a room and I look at what is written at the top of it, ‘steward’s chamber’. I wipe the tears from my face after I follow him, the room is spacious, with high ceilings. Sunlight streams through the leaded glass windows, casting warm patches of light onto the polished stone floor.

Inside the room, there are dozens of servants in crisp aprons and their focus turns to us immediately. There is a woman standing in front of them, her posture is upright, her expression is stern, as she gazes out at the assembled servants and then, faces us. She is dressed in a crisp uniform, every fold and seam meticulously pressed. A silver brooch adorns her collar, which is stating her ranking in the castle.

The moment they see me, there is a gush of whispering.

“The king has asked that this woman be appointed to the steward chamber.” Beswick says, speaking directly to the woman in charge, his voice is lazy as if he is annoyed that the king didn’t make me a w***e to the soldiers.

“Her eyes…” The woman says, her sharp eyes, gazing at me.

“A wolfen.” Beswick completes the statement for her and the servants behind her gasps.

“A wolfen in the castle?” The woman asks.

“She is a healer, the king has appointed her as his healer.” Beswick says.

“The laws…”

“Don’t be stupid Elizabeth, King Dimitrio makes the laws…” Beswick says, his voice has an edge to it and it makes her straighten her back.

“Of course. But the king has the finest physicians, why would he need a wolfen?” She asks.

“Ask his majesty when next you see him…keep her closest to him, his majesty has said.” Beswick says, turning his back from the woman and now, he faces me. He accesses me, his eyes glowering at me like a vulture waiting to feast on a dead body. After that, he passes by my side.

The woman clears her throat and assess me too. She doesn’t say a word, her eyes just feasts on me and I wonder if I am truly so different from the rest of them. Being a wolfen doesn’t mean I’m not a wolf, but yet, they treat me differently.

“Your name?” She asks.

“Melissa.” I answer.

“Surname?” She ask.

“Spatiatis.” I answer and her eyes widens for a moment. It’s as if she is shocked, there is an hesitation from her.

“I’ve heard of your father. Join the line, Melissa. I am Elizabeth, the head of the steward chambers, we are a team who serve at the pleasure and displeasure of his royal majesty, Alpha King Dimitrio.” She says, that shock erasing from her eyes as if it never came in the first place.

“Yes, ma’am.” I say, joining the line and doing my best to stare away from the servants who have their eyes on me.

Elizabeth clears her throat, and resumes her position in front of the room. Her posture is upright and her gaze is steady.

“As we have a newbie here, I may have to go through the rules again….you are all aware of what it means to be a part of the steward chamber. We are the heart of the kingdom's administration, where decisions are made and policies are enacted for the betterment of our realm. We are in charge of the king’s health, and his health equals to growth for our realm.”

“Serving in the steward chamber isn't merely a task; it is a sacred calling, a privilege granted to those deemed worthy of the king's trust.” I exhale, pinching the palms of my hands as I listen to her.

I wonder why she is speaking of a steward's responsibilities with deep sense of pride, emphasizing the importance of serving that ruthless king. It makes no sense. He is a king who imposes his power on others without giving them a say in their own lives.

“As a part of this chamber, it is important that you know that your body belongs to the king…” She says and I pinch myself tauter.

“Just like we have done for the past kings of Gethmorn, we will help the king however we can. We will surrender our body if he needs it, we will spread our legs if he demands, open our mouth or be silent.” Elizabeth says and this time, she is looking at me.

“Are my words clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” They say but I wasn’t fast enough to answer.

“Get back to your duties everyone, except Melissa, you come with me.” She says, walking out of the room and I follow behind her. I am not paying attention to the castle any longer. I don’t care if it has tall walls as long as the ones I’ve read about in books, I don’t care if it is beautiful and mouth-watering. It is a cage. And despite my ignorance in failing to see the castle for what it is, I notice the difference in the hall we have entered. The golden walls rise high on either side, adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of historic triumphs of the kingdom. Above, the vaulted ceiling soared, painted with elaborate frescoes depicting scenes from myth and legend, further emphasizing the divine right of the king to rule.

There are no servants or guards filling the space in patterns like the other hall. Even the fragrance of the hall is different; I know a lot about herbs. So, I can smell sandalwood, frankincense, and aromatic spices. Elizabeth slows and points to a grand oak door. At its centre, a massive brass handle gleamed, polished to a mirror-like shine and shaped in the likeness of a lion's head. Its jaws were parted as if poised to roar, a silent proclamation of power that dared any who approached to challenge the monarch's rule.

Around the edges of the door, golden filigree traced delicate patterns, catching the light in glimmers of opulence that spoke of the kingdom's wealth and prestige. Each detail was meticulously wrought, a testament to the reverence with which the king's chamber was regarded.

“This is his majesty’s bedroom. You are only allowed to go in if he gives you permission.” Elizabeth says and she continues to walk. After walking to the end of the hall, she turns to another door and opens it.

“I don’t know why the king has commanded that you stay in a room closest to him. The only person who is supposed to be closest to the king is his future queen but you are only his subject. You are not worthy of living so close to the king or being in this room. You must remember that.” Elizabeth says to me and I nod. However, my face is showing nothing…it is hard to tell if I feel unworthy as she’s telling me to feel.

I follow her inside of the room which is a grandeur of emptiness, a space uncluttered by furnishings yet rich in atmosphere. The most striking feature is the expansive windows, it is framed by billowing curtains of rich velvet, and an abundance of natural light. At least, I have a window to remember what it feels like to have freewill.

“You will be brought a bed and a set of uniforms. If you burn it or ruin it, that will be your problem.” Elizabeth says.

“I understand.” I reply.

“I hope you understand what I said about being a steward to the king? It is an honour to fulfil his every command.” She says and I don’t reply. I cannot reduce myself to that. It is one thing for them to believe that because they are here freely, they want this job but I don’t want it. I didn’t ask for it.

“You do not answer?” Elizabeth asks.

“I---I…” I hesitate.

“The king has never seen a healer. I have heard that all through the times where he was a marauder, pillaging lands as the beast of Gevaudan, he had acquired dozens of injuries. But he didn’t see a healer, not once. He has all of those scar remnants because he hasn’t met a physician to help him heal the right way.”

“So, let me tell you something, Melissa. You are not here because he needs your healing technique and it would be best to surrender to him.” Elizabeth says.

“Are you saying the king has taken liking to a wolfen?” I ask, finally breaking my silence.

“Remove our wolves, and we are all women…”

“And you, you are one beautiful one. It is best if you use it to secure your place in the castle, you can never be queen but a mistress to the king of Gethmorn is still considered greatness.”

“Greatness? That isn’t my definition of greatness. I don’t plan on becoming anything to the king. I’m here to repay my father’s debt and I will do it with my skill, not my body.” I reply, knowing my future isn’t in my hands anymore.