CHAPTER 2 Awakened
Alora POV
A stunning fae man steps through the veil with a bundle in his arms. He is tall and handsome with icy blue eyes. Pointed ears stick out from his jet-black hair, and there is a sour look on his face. A small group of cloaked women are waiting for him. Their hoods are pulled down over their faces so only their odd, glowing eyes peer out from beneath.
"You summoned me," he speaks to the women as if they are beneath him.
"I have foreseen the fall of your realm," one of the women speaks. She lowers her hood, and milky white eyes glare through the night. The fae doesn't believe her, but she had foreseen that as well.
"What do you need with my child?" He asks, holding the bundle close to his chest.
"The Lycan King will break through the veil to claim her," the woman continues.
The fae scoffs. "He doesn't possess the magic to do that."
"He doesn't possess it yet," the second woman steps forward. "He is searching among the covens for a witch to do his bidding."
"And when he comes through the veil?" He asks through gritted teeth.
"He will kill her," the first woman replies. "Leaving you without an heir."
The fae swallows his pride as he looks down at the child in his arms. She is perfect, a rare child born into the fae realm. The first born in a century. "What do you suggest?"
"We hide her in this realm," the last woman speaks up. As she does, her hood slips from her head, exposing her beautiful blonde hair. Her green eyes sparkle with excitement.
The fae studies her carefully, looking at her with distrust. "I suppose you will be the ones to raise the child?"
"By Hecate's name, no," the middle woman says. "You will have to find other arrangements."
The wind picks up, and it pins the women to the ground. The fae stands over the woman and bares his teeth at them in anger. "You brought me problems but no solutions."
"Of course, we will raise the child," the third says through gritted teeth.
"She dreams of the day she was left in this realm," a woman's voice breaks through my thoughts. "There is a traitor in your midst, but you already knew that."
My eyes strain against the light shining into the room. My arms and legs are stiff, and pain shoots through my limbs. I focus on moving my toes first and work my way up my body. The sounds of people talking sound both distant and near as I try to wake up.
A woman with dark eyes is hovering over me. There is an odd smile on her face as she swipes her blackened fingertips across my face. I know what she is, but I bite back the urge to scream. The sisters raised me to be stronger than that.
"She is awake," she speaks to someone over her shoulder.
"You are dismissed, Evanora," a gruff male voice comes from the corner of the room.
I want to plead with her not to leave me. Even knowing that she is a dark witch, she would still provide me some protection from whoever is in the corner. I open my mouth to speak, but I am unable to make any noise, and I watch helplessly as she leaves the room.
I am staring at the door when a brooding man steps into my line of sight. The sight of him raises an odd sense of curiosity within me. I have never seen a man in person before, the sisters kept me from the world.
He is terribly handsome, like one of the characters in the books Eliane used to let me secretly read. His dark hair is neatly styled, and his brown eyes sparkle with excitement as he looks at me despite the angry scowl on his face. A suit that is perfectly tailored for his muscular form adds to his appeal. I feel at ease until his lips curl over his teeth. I gasp when I see his fangs. I have somehow ended up in the den of my enemy.
"Alora," he says gruffly. "You slept longer than expected."
He walks toward me with purpose, and I worry he will touch me. Holding my hands in front of me, I silently beg him not to come any closer.
Suddenly, the skin on my arms begins to glitter. Runes and symbols appear out of nowhere. I can't take my eyes off them. They are beautiful, but they were never there before. Not when I was living with the sisters.
"What did you do to me?" I ask hoarsely. The closer he gets to me, the brighter the runes shine on my skin.
"When our skin touched, the symbols appeared on your skin," he replies.
My brain feels empty. I can't remember anything after Anila gave me the potion. I do not know how long I have been asleep or what was done to me while I was sleeping. Fear and anger fill my chest, and I am desperate to fight my way out.
"You touched me," I gasp in defiance.
"Only to lay you in this bed," he says with a smirk on his lips.
I know I need to get out of here. Painfully, I try to sit up, but my body is not ready. Flopping back on the bed, I groan in frustration. I am helpless for the time being.
"You have been asleep for a long time," he murmurs. "You won't be able to rise out of bed for some time."
I turn my head to look at him. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Three years," the man tells me.
"There must be some mistake," I mutter. "The potion was only supposed to put me to sleep for a month. You must be mistaken."
"Are you calling me a liar?" He snaps at me.
His eyes are glowing with anger as he looks at me. My body shakes in fear and I lower my eyes to the floor.
"I am King Leonidas," he tells me. "You will join me for dinner."
"How can I join you for dinner when I am unable to leave this bed?" I ask in confusion.
"I will have Evanora make you a concoction," he replies simply. "It should allow you to get to your feet."
"How do I know it won't be poison?" I demand to know.
"You won't," he says before turning on his heels and leaving the room.
When the door slams behind him, I let the tears I was holding back fall from my eyes. Anila was so certain the Lycan King would think me dead that he would leave me behind. Now, I am to have dinner with him.
I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling, willing my body to move. My knees are bending slightly when there is a knock on the door. Evanora comes in without waiting for me to respond. There is a vial in her hands.
Uncorking the vial, she lifts it to my lips. "Open," she commands me.
I keep my lips pressed together tightly. I refuse to trust a dark witch or the Lycan King. Evanora does not seem to be dismayed by my protest. Instead, she presses a black finger to my temple. A voice rings in my mind, telling me to drink from the vial, and I have no choice but to comply.
My lips part, and Evanora drips the liquid onto my tongue. It is bitter, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. I want to close my mouth, but with Evanora's finger still pressed to my temple, I am unable to disobey her orders.
Once the vial is empty, she places the cork back on the top and removes her finger from my temple. I clamp my mouth shut and wait for the worst to happen.
"It would not benefit us to kill you," Evanora tells me. "But it would be to your benefit to be obedient."
"I was not raised to be obedient," I warn her.