Valerie

Chapter Two

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"I did not like him when I met him. I found him cruel. I certainly do not like him now when I know it's true."

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"He asked your name?" Hilla asked, leaning from her mattress on a metal frame.

"And he asked if I liked working here, to which I said yes, very much. Do you think Madame is going to turn me out tonight?"

"Well, what did his aura say?"

"Oppressive. Choking. Demeaning."

"No, I think you'll be fine. That's every Were King." I released a sigh and laid back, my head against my pillows, staring at the ceiling.

"Did you buy the blockers?"

"Mhm. Don't worry girl. Sleep."

I laid awake that night, knowing I'd be exhausted in the morning, thinking--in cold sweats--of those eyes.

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In the morning, I took my scent blockers and went upstairs for work. The newcomers were still a little too shaky to be shifted into the upstairs, downstairs rotations. Today there was no coal. My job consisted of dusting and wiping down every window, mirror and reflective surface in the East wing. As I said, it really was a thankless, useless job.

I opened the door to the library and set down my bucket of sudsy water. Tying up my hair and wrapping the edges with a scarf, I went about my work. There's no room in the palace I loved more than the library. My schooling didn't last long of course, but while it did, I couldn't keep my hands off those tattered readers. I liked fiction. I liked fantasy worlds where the impossible existed and little girls fell through holes and mirrors and leaped into the sky for fairytale adventures. I liked girls who waved the sword of destiny, who slayed the dragon, who beheaded the evil king.

I wanted to be like them.

But of course, work left no time for childish fantasies, something I was reminded of as I took to the windows overlooking the great front lawn. A book laid on a sill, open and I got a glimpse of the page as I turned to close it. A book of poems. Looking left and right, I turned the next page. It would be okay to read a few, if I could get my work done quickly. And with two years under my belt, I was a quick worker. I took the leather bound book in my hands and moved to the mirror I was supposed to be cleaning. I knew what I looked like, of course, but seeing my reflection in this large, usually clean mirror--thanks to me--was different. I leaned in closer, inspecting my dark brown skin. I used to be even darker, but I didn't get as much sun as I used to.

Would I like applying makeup and beautifying myself in a mirror such as this? Would I like to be a Were lady? Beyond the quick curiosity and lust for a better life, the answer is an overwhelming no. That girl Anna, she'd be converted into something I can't even describe. The wolves have a process of making their mates more wolf-like. A painful process, I've heard, over many months that results in their mate becoming a werewolf. Not a true wolf, but close enough...for the pups.

I read another poem, looking at my mouth move in the mirror.

"Gentle lady, the joke is on me,

My underestimation caused me loss.

The moon is bright and so are you,

With my blood across your cross.