She was told to sleep by the fire, that they didn't have a bed prepared. In part, Rose was thankful. The dying embers provided some warmth and being alone gave her time to think, to sort through her thoughts.
She couldn't understand why the Alpha King had brought her here. Surely he wouldn't care if she had died. His beta certainly held a great deal of disdain for her and it wasn't as though omegas were looked kindly upon in his pack.
Perhaps he pitied her.
She turned over, arching her back in an effort to relieve some of the pain that had gathered there. The floor was hard but not unfamiliar to her. She sighed, settling on her back, raising her arms above her before letting them fall across her face.
The last few days had been a strange blur and she couldn't understand much of it.
Despite the deep ache in her heart, she was glad to finally be away from the people who hurt her. But she knew the saying - out of the frying pan, into the inferno. She just hoped that that was not the case now.
She had already dealt with enough infernos.
Her face was still throbbing and a low ache rose from her stomach to settle at the bottom of her throat. The seer's curse would not wear off anytime soon and she worried that the scar on her face worsen, too.
Perhaps in the morning things would be better. She told herself that over and over for the rest of the night as she failed to fall asleep.
The Alpha King was drunk. He did not wish to sleep.
After Zachariah left his office, he continued his attempts to come up with a plan. He could not allow morning to come with him so defenceless, so clueless and he certainly could not let the Witch see him this way.
The last time he saw her was when his mate died. He had left the castle with only a note and his ring placed on his Beta's bedside locker. Zachariah awoke, unsurprised to discover that he was now in charge.
Malakai had journeyed alone through the woods until he came to the place that he knew the Witch to live. There he had set her a bargain. His life for the return of his mate.
But the Witch would not do it. She was under the power of the Moon Goddess, she said. What had happened was the way it must be and the plans in store for him were much greater than the loss he had bore.
He had wanted to kill her. He had threatened it, in fact. Tried. But every time he attempted to raise his arm, he heard his late mate's voice. The King had ended up on his knees in a crumpled heap, begging the Witch to make it stop or bring her back or kill him - he wasn't sure which option was best.
He returned a failure and a different man.
The thought of seeing her again struck agony through his soul.
But he had to do it. It was the only way he could see.
It was not often that Malakai got drunk. It took a lot to affect a man of his power. A beast.
He called for the servant outside his door to open the window. He didn't wish to get up. But the draft caused the curtains to billow and a shaft of moonlight circled in. He got up and slammed it shut.
The moon would not taunt him tonight.