Alpha's Healer

5

Melissa Spatiatis.

I watch the beast the king is riding with shock as I deliberately pace behind he and his general. It is not a horse; it can’t be a horse but what sort of creature is it then? With muscles rippling beneath its sleek, obsidian hide, the horse is a predatory element, each step a testament to the untamed power that coursed through its veins. It shouldn’t be allowed near people, it seems unstable.

An unstable horse for an unstable king.

I saw when he silently exerted dominance on the animal, nothing but purgery in both their eyes. Even now, as I watch the beast traverse the landscape, I’m wondering what sort of a person would consider such animal as a friend. He called it shadowfang and dared to tell me that his beast of a horse doesn’t trust new company. Like I want to be here, like I want to be his healer who follows after him in obedience.

And what was that Elizabeth said? That I should take this as some form of opportunity because many women would consider it so. He is a king and being by his side brings favour. She must be crazy, everyone in this castle must be crazy. How can one think of being with a man like him? King or no king, it doesn’t make him a better person.

I quickly pace when I see them slow down at the fields. My horse comes to a gentle stop, its hooves sinking into the soft earth. With one leg over the saddle, I land softly on the ground, my shoes making scarcely a sound as they touched the earth. King Dimitrio and his general are standing next to each other, they are looking at something together and I quietly take the horse to the tree where I tie it. I stay behind, not wanting to get close to his beast of a horse or him.

I watch as his general traces a hand to his tunic, a sharp light of the knife catches the glimpse of the sun and I cover my mouth, to make sure my own body doesn’t voluntarily make a sound. The king beside the general is standing at ease, he is a wearing a simple shirt of rough-spun fabric which I thought surprising because his attire is a stark contrast to the opulence of the royal court.

There is an undeniable rugged nobility in his sun bronzed appearance. Across his broad shoulders rests an ancient-looking bow. And slowly, his sinewy arm reaches across his shoulders to grasp the bow. By this act, his muscles taut and I become aware of his chest, expansive and well-muscled. I watch as they rise and fell with the rhythm of his breath.

I look at his arms, thick with sinew and corded with muscle, hung at his sides like coiled springs, ready to unleash their pent-up energy at a moment's notice. This is the man I slapped, he could have twisted by neck in a second, he could have suffocated me without difficulty. I mean, look at him… every line and contour of his body honed.

He took the throne of Gethmorn from his brother viciously. I have heard the news of how he has them locked in the dungeons. What gave me the courage to raise my hands and hit him? It is a mistake I will never make again. As he moves with a fluid, predatory grace, his muscles flexed and tensed with each step, his gait as sure and steady as that of a prowling wolf on the hunt and I blink, realising that he is looking at me.

“Get me water.” King Dimitrio says

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed his waterskin to me and by a gasp of surprise, I reach out my trembling hand and my fingers closes around the waterskin just as it threatened to slip through my grasp.

“Yes, your majesty.” I say, holding my breath and turning my back. I walk at least thirty steps before I release my breath. I saw a waterfall on or way here. So, I know it’s not far but I cannot take the horse either. After walking for fifteen minutes, I hear the waterfall and I divert into the woods. My footsteps are upon the moss-covered ground and the air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth.

I find the lake and I lift up my dress in order to get through the wet soil of the woods. Across the lake, a stream tumbled down from the surrounding hills, its waters cascading over rocks and boulders in a graceful ballet. I am used to the beauty of a rushing stream, I used to come across one every day while I was fetching herbs in the morning in the healing village.

With a sigh of relief, I step closer to the edge of the lake, dipping my fingers into the cool, refreshing waters. As I gaze out across the shimmering expanse, I feel a sense of peace settle over me until I remember that I’m holding the water skin. I rise from my feet, looking at the water cloth in anger and I scoff.

Do I just fill it with stones?

“No, the king is not a fool, he would feel the stones.”

Do I find poisonous herbs and fill it into it?

“No, do you think they won’t find out it was you?”

Do I just run away?

“No, DImitrio controls the whole of Gethmorn and many other connecting villages. And where will you run to; you are a wolfen. You will go from fry pan into fire.”

With all my plans falling back at me, I begin to fill the waterskin with stones and sand to satisfy my refuting efforts—it wouldn’t hurt if he were to choke on just a little. I get carried away, I was only supposed to put a few sands but I fill the waterskin with stones and sand to the brim. I tighten the lid and I throw it into the river, exhaling in anger. I place my hands on my hips, turning my face away from the waterskin and taking deep breaths to calm myself. It’s not as if I can do about my hatred.

After a minute, I look back at the spot where I threw the waterskin but I don’t see it anymore. I look in front and there, the river is taking it away in a change of wave. The waterskin bobs and twirls. For a moment, it fights valiantly against its fate, twisting and turning in a futile attempt to break free. But the relentless current showed no mercy, dragging it further downstream with increasing speed until I can’t see it anymore.

It just disappeared from sight. I look in shock, in awe…fear. I cannot word what I feel right now. How would I explain this? That I was filling his waterskin with stone and sands, threw it in the river because I believed it wouldn’t wash up due to the stones I put in it? Turned my face for a moment, and there it was, carried away by a change of current in the river before I could have a say in it.

Melissa, think!

You were supposed to get back with his water already. What excuse could I possibly give? Do I just…do I just run? Where can I run to?

Nowhere.

Or I can say…I can just tell him that I fell and the waterskin was carried away by a change in the current. Yes, that makes more sense. I say to myself, but I cannot move to go back. I cannot report back to him or move an inch from where I am. I don’t want to have to speak to him. After going back and forth, looking in the river and hoping the waterskin would magically wash back. I look at the sun and it’s going, inviting darkness into the scene.

This is bad. I have been gone too long. Now, I’m late…two reasons to punish me.

This is it, Melissa.

A gentle breeze whispers through the leaves, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of rain. The first few droplets fall tentatively, like hesitant dancers tiptoeing onto a stage, tapping lightly against the leaves and stones. I feel the cool touch of the wind on my skin and my eyes widens in realization. With a soft gasp, I tilt my head upwards, and immediately raindrops begin to fall on my cheeks like gentle kisses from the sky.

At the sound of thunder and crackling lightning, the heavens open up, unleashing a cascade of water. Instantly, my clothes are soaked through, clinging to my skin like a second layer. The rain pounds and I can hardly see anymore. I begin to run back to meet the king, cold shivers racing down my spine.

The wave of the rain pushes me as I run, using one arm to cover my face. All of a sudden, a group of men on horseback formed a stark silhouette against me. Their horses' hooves pound against the wet ground, the sound merging with the roar of the rain. Scared and flustered, I turn around them, the rain biting against us and I don’t understand what they want. But then, I remember, this is the castle grounds. It is not possible for just anyone to gain access, which means... they are the king’s men.

Two of the men on horses get off from their mares, and they grab hold of me.

In a matter of minutes, they returned me to the castle despite the raging rain. I am held firmly by two imposing guards, and I move with hesitant steps— water from the rain pooling at my feet. Elizabeth enters onto the scene and the guards let go of me.

“Follow me.” She says.

I know whom she is taking me to.