Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
The station is set back from Chateau de Lune by some distance, mostly because the pack and the local heritage foundation would have collectively lost their marbles if I had turned the actual building into a train station. I thought it could be rather charming, but I was convinced by the many arguments against having a big steam beast throwing coal dust over centuries of architecture.
This means that there is a short walk from the train to the house proper. As we disembark the train, I sweep my mate up into my arms, sparing her the need to walk on bare feet across the stony ground.
The chateau is inarguably a grand place. Much attention has been paid to the details in terms of marble work, carved sconces and trims, not to mention crystal light fixtures, statues, and works of great art.
It is a living piece of history, and the pack tend to it with great fervor. Sometimes we host historians and other students of art who appreciate all that is stored here.
“Oh, my…”
She is awed, and I am not surprised. Craftsmanship almost always inspires. I set her down on her feet inside the doors, meaning to let her explore, but she stays close to me, like a child who has been chastised one too many times for breaking things in a fancy store.
“This is all yours?”
“This is all ours. It belongs to my ancestors, to the pack, and to the future generations yet to be born. We have the use of it for now, and it is our responsibility to preserve what is here and add to it for the future.”
She nods slowly, as if the words make sense, but do not quite touch her. I am sure she never expected to enjoy anything so fine, let alone bear some responsibility for it.
This will be a good distraction from what she has regarded as being abducted. She will become accustomed to this lifestyle and understand that she has been elevated from her desperate circumstances into ones that ensure she never need worry again.
Beatrix
He expects me to be impressed and excited, but everything I am seeing is only leading me to feel more fear. This place is full of pretty, rare things, and I can see in Armand’s eyes that he considers me just another one of those pretty, rare things. I am to be kept here, away from the world, producing for his line, for the pack, whether I want to or not. My future stretches out ahead of me in a terrible flash. I see the trap of domesticity and comfortable wealth.
I come from poverty. I know that sitting here, in a place like this, while others have absolutely nothing is disgusting. To think that I spent years languishing in the orphanage, rarely getting enough to eat, having no chance at a life I got to choose.
I have access to it now, because the man who has had it all along suddenly decides I am his mate. Does he really expect me to be grateful? Excited? This house of riches may as well be a house of corpses. I cannot imagine all the people who could have been fed and clothed if this were not being hoarded.
He looks at me as if he expects me to be excited, to celebrate my good fortune. But I am young, not stupid. I know that the price I will pay for enjoying all these things is my freedom. I know that my youth will slowly wither in this palace and I will emerge one day, many decades from now, an empty version of what I was, and nothing of what I could have been.
He thinks this makes me want to stay.
It makes me need to flee.
But I do not run out the front door, even though I very much want to. I can tell he is so impressed with his gilded cage he will not expect me to have a problem with it.
He leads me through the place, pointing out what he thinks are items of note. I look with wide eyes and stay quiet and that is something that appears to make him think I am interested.
Armand is rich and powerful. He has always been rich and powerful. There are paintings of him as a child with his parents, a dark-haired boy with big silver-gray eyes. There is not so much as a photo of me in existence that I am aware of.
Blissfully unaware of the effect this display of wealth, privilege, and familial attachment is having on me, he sweeps me upstairs where I am confronted with a massive bedroom complete with the wardrobe he spoke about in the train. Gown after gown awaits, along with an array of jewelry that comprises a treasure trove in its own right.
Apparently I am going to spend the rest of my life either naked or at a ball. This is the way one outfits a fairytale princess.