Elara's POV
The moon hung high over the kingdom of Blackwood. Its light brought me no peace.
I sat alone in my chamber. The silk of my gown feeling like sandpaper against my skin.
Every time I closed my eyes. I saw her. That ghost of a girl with her strange clothes. She was a rot in my garden. A weed that refused to be plucked. She was ruining everything I had spent years building.
Alaric is changing. I can feel it in the way he speaks. The way he carries himself. Most dangerously, the way he looks at her.
He is no longer the predictable tyrant I need him to be. A tyrant is easy to lead; you simply point him at an enemy and watch him tear them apart. But Alaric is softening.
He is looking for "truth" and "justice" instead of the raw, bloody revenge. Revenge that would keep this kingdom in a state of chaos.
If he finds out the truth about his mother's death. He might not kill the people I need him to kill. He might actually think. And a thinking King is a King I cannot control.
This nameless girl is the catalyst for his transformation. She is the anchor holding him back from his wolfish nature. My heart burned with a rage so hot I feared it would sear the very air in the room.
"She has the audacity to challenge me." I whispered to the empty room.
"Me. The woman feared by every wolf in this pack. The woman who should be wearing the crown."
Morgana stepped out from the shadows. Her face pale. She had been waiting for my mood to shift. But tonight, there was no shifting. There was only the fire.
"What do you think, Morgana?" I asked.
My voice cracking like a whip.
"Tell me how a peasant from nowhere is making the future Queen of Blackwood look like a bumbling fool."
Morgana bowed her head.
Her voice hushed. "My Lady, the girl is... unexpected. She does not play by the rules of the court because she does not know them. But she is making you look weak in the eyes of the other wolves. I hear the whispers in the servant halls. They say the 'Ghost Chef' has the Alpha's ear. They say she is untouchable."
I gripped the arm of my velvet chair. My knuckles turned white.
"Weak? They think I am weak?"
"They see a girl survive your wrath and come out stronger." Morgana said.
"We need a more dangerous plan. Something that does not just shame her, but leads directly to her execution. She is too small to be competing with the Lady of Blackwood, yet here she is, standing in your light."
"She is just a fly." I spat.
"A fly that needs to be swatted and crushed until there is nothing left but a stain on the floor."
"I believe you can handle her, My Lady." Morgana said.
She tried to soothe me.
"We just need more time to gather the right pieces. A plan that leaves no room for her to slip through."
I stood up. I paced the length of the room. The sapphire silk of my dress hissed against the stone.
"Time? We do not have time. Alaric is already searching for evidence. He threatened to bring proof against those involved in the old queen's passing. If he finds that proof before she is gone, she will protect him from the fallout. I want him hungry for blood. Not balanced by her 'mercy'."
I turned to Morgana, my eyes narrowed.
"Tell me one thing. How was it possible for Sophie to win that dinner? I watched the tray shatter. I saw the food hit the dirt. There was nothing left. How did she produce another meal in minutes?"
Morgana bite her lip.
"Only Cook Damien can answer that, My Lady. He was in the kitchen while we were... changing your attire."
I paused.
A slow, cruel smile began to form on my lips.
"Smart girl. I didn't think about that. Damien is the key. He is weak, and weak men are the best tools."
"Get me Damien." I commanded.
Morgana looked at the heavy curtains.
"It is really late, My Lady. The bells have already tolled for the third watch. Why don't we wait until morning? It might look suspicious if he is summoned now."
I turned on her. My voice low and dangerous.
"You sounded smart a minute ago, Morgana. Now you sound incredibly stupid. Do you not realize it is better if no one sees him coming here? Under the cover of darkness, he is just another shadow. You were there when Alaric threatened me. You stood in that hall and heard him. And now you tell me to wait?"
"I'm sorry, My Lady!" Morgana cried, dropping to her knees. Her voice trembled with genuine fear.
"I didn't mean... I will go at once."
"Get Damien now." I hissed.
She rushed out of the room. Her footsteps were frantic.
I sat back down and waited. I looked at the small, ornate box on my vanity. Inside sat the solution to my problem.
It didn't take long. The door creaked open. Morgana slipped back in. She led a trembling Cook Damien. He looked as though he had been pulled straight from a nightmare.
"Damien." I said.
My voice sweet as poisoned honey.
"How did that ghost chef come up with another meal minutes after I crushed her food? Tell me the secret."
I looked at him furiously. My gaze bored into his skull.
Damien shook his head. His eyes darting around the room.
"I... I wouldn't know, My Lady. You only asked me to prepare something special for the Alpha. I was focused on my own tray. When I saw her food fall, I thought it was over. I went to serve the King, but then..."
"Shut your mouth!" I interrupted.
I stood up and walked toward him. The height of my heels making me tower over his cowering form.
"Shut your mouth, you good-for-nothing chef. Do you think the position of Chief Royal Chef is a joke? Do you think I placed you there so you could lose to a girl who fell out of the sky?"
Damien nodded frantically. His voice a mere whisper.
"No, My Lady. Of course not."
"You are supposed to fight for that position with your life." I said.
My voice rising.
"You are supposed to do everything possible to make sure that ghost is destroyed. You allowed her to outshine you. You allowed her to make the Grand Prince laugh while your 'traditional' food sat cold and forgotten."
"But... she moved so fast." Damien started.
His hands wringing together.
"She had kept some back. She said she knew accidents happened. She was prepared."
"Be quiet! I am not done talking!" I shouted, the sound echoing off the stone walls.
I reached for the vanity. I picked up a small, green bottle. It was no larger than my thumb. It held enough power to change the history of Blackwood.
"I chose you, Damien, because I know how determined you are." I said.
My tone shifting back to a terrifying calm.
"I also know things about you. I know you have a family in the East. A wife. Three small children. You wouldn't want anything bad to happen to them, would you?"
The color drained from Damien's face. He looked like he was about to faint.
"My family? My Lady, they have nothing to do with the kitchen."
"They have everything to do with your loyalty." I replied.
I stepped closer. The smell of my perfume clashing with the scent of grease and sweat that clung to him.
"The next time that ghost cooks, you will pour this in the food. Not all of it. Just enough. And leave the rest to me."
I stretched my hand out. The green bottle glinting in the candlelight.
Damien didn't move. His hands were shaking so violently. He couldn't have held a spoon, let alone a delicate vial.
I didn't wait. I grabbed his hand. I dropped the bottle into his palm, and closed his fingers over it forcefully.
"Remember your family, Damien." I whispered into his ear.
"Think of their faces when you consider saying no."
"But..." Damien's voice cracked. A tear escaping his eye.
"She... she saved my hands. When the King was angry, she took the blame. She saved me."
I felt a surge of disgust so strong I wanted to strike him.
"Oh? You now question my authority? You choose the gratitude of a peasant over the commands of your Lady?"
I pushed him back. My eyes flashing with malice.
"Do what I have asked you, or watch all your family wiped out of the surface of the earth. I will start with your eldest son. Do you understand me, Damien?"
He looked at the bottle in his hand as if it were a live coal. He looked at me. I was not playing. I was a wolf in silk, and I was hungry.
"I understand." He choked out.
"Good. Now get out of my sight. And remember, not a word to anyone. If Silas or that girl suspects a thing, you will wish the Alpha had cut off your hands when he had the chance."
Damien turned and fled.
Morgana trailing behind to ensure he was hidden.
I stood in the center of my room, breathing heavily. The pieces were back on the board.
The ghost would cook her final meal. Alaric would finally see what happens when you trust the wrong woman.
