Surrogate for the Alpha Prince in a Coma novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It must be Calvin. Calvin had grabbed my wrists last night. Of course his grip had left marks.

I tugged my sleeve down and turned back to the Omega.

She hadn’t waited for me.

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They cleaned me up in a room that smelled like lavender and disinfectant. Two servants stripped off my cotton dress without asking and replaced it with a simple gray tunic and dark trousers – palace-issue, nothing special, but the fabric was softer than anything I’d ever worn. They braided my hair and scrubbed my face with a cloth that stung.

Nobody spoke to me. They spoke about me.

The tunic hung loose on my frame. The trousers were too long and had to be rolled at the ankles. I caught my reflection and barely recognized the girl looking back – scrubbed raw, bruise-wristed, eyes that looked like they belonged to someone ten years older.

“She’s the one the wolf chose?” one whispered, pulling a comb through my hair harder than necessary.

“Doesn’t look like much,” the other murmured back. “Poor thing. Married to a corpse.

I stared at the mirror and said nothing.

The Omega – her name was Margaux, I learned — led me through the palace grounds at a pace that suggested she had better things to do. She pointed at buildings and rattled off information like reading from a list.

“The Prince is the King’s only heir. He was ambushed during a battle with rogues three months ago. Severe injuries. He hasn’t woken since.” She said it flatly, the way people talk about weather that hasn’t changed. “There are rules here. Many of them. Don’t wander. Don’t speak out of turn. Don’t enter restricted wings without escort.”

I nodded. She didn’t check whether I was listening.

We passed the kitchens, the servants’ quarters, the medical wing. At every turn, people stopped to stare. Some bowed – stiff, reluctant bows that were more obligation than respect. Others didn’t bother. A cluster of female servants near the laundry room fell silent as I passed, then burst into whispers the moment I was three steps beyond them.

“…just a surrogate…”

“…keeping the bed warm for a dead man…”

“…did you see that dress she arrived in?”

Margaux stopped. Turned. The servants went rigid.

“The next person who speaks about the Luna Princess like she’s not standing right there will scrub the east wing latrines for a month.” Her voice was ice. “She holds a title. You will address it.”

The whispering stopped. But the looks didn’t.

The training grounds were a wide, open courtyard surrounded by stone walls. Wolves in human form sparred in pairs – grappling, striking, moving with a speed. The air smelled like sweat and iron and trampled grass.

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A girl broke from the group before Margaux could steer me past.

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She was tall. Blonde. Built like someone who’d been training since she could walk. She planted herself in front of me and looked me over – slowly, top to bottom, like she was inspecting something she’d found on the bottom of

her shoe.

“So you’re the new surrogate.” Not a question.

Margaux touched my elbow. “This is Ophelia,” she said, low enough that only I could hear. “The Royal Beta’s daughter. She grew up with the Prince.”

Ophelia smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“A Gamma’s daughter.” She tilted her head. “From Shadow Creek, right? One of the border packs?” She said it the, way someone would say one of the servant’s closets. “Tell me what exactly makes you think your bloodline is fit to carry a Lycan Prince’s heir?”

Three girls had stopped sparring and drifted over to flank her. One cracked her knuckles. Another crossed her arms and smirked.

“She’s right,” the smirking one said. “You’d probably produce some half-blood runt. The King’s bloodline deserves better.”

“You can’t even shift properly, can you?” another added. “I heard Gamma wolves barely manage a half-form. Imagine pushing that onto the Prince’s pups.’

“Much better,” Ophelia agreed. She stepped closer. Her scent hit me – something floral and sharp, expensive. So do yourself a favor, little wolf. Walk away. Tell the King you can’t do it. Save yourself the embarrassment of failing at the one thing they brought you here to do.”

My wolf lunged inside my chest. She slammed against the walls my mother had built, snarling, clawing, demanding I rip the smile off this girl’s face.

I breathed through it. Clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

Back home, I would have swallowed this. I’d swallowed worse from Maren, from my father, from Calvin. Three years of keeping my head down, my voice soft, my wolf locked behind walls. I was good at it. I hated how good I was at it.

I didn’t know the rules here. I didn’t know who was protected, who was connected, who could make my life worse than it already was. And I had a brother in a basement somewhere whose safety depended on me not making

enemies.

I turned to walk away.

“Excuse me.” Ophelia’s voice went cold. “Did I say you could leave?”

I kept walking.

“Grab her.”

Two of the followers seized my arms and dragged me back. Their grip was iron. I stumbled, nearly fell, and found myself standing in front of Ophelia again.

Margaux stepped forward. “Lady Ophelia, the Luna Princess has a schedule today. Perhaps -”

“Perhaps you should remember your place.” Ophelia didn’t look at her. “You’re a servant, Margaux. You don’t get

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to tell me what to do.”

Margaux’s jaw tightened. She went still.

Ophelia turned back to me. Her hand came up slowly. Her fingers extended, and her nails lengthened into claws dark, curved, sharp enough to fillet skin from bone.

“Someone needs to teach you how things work around here,” she said. Her voice had gone quiet.

She swung.

I caught her wrist.

My hand closed around it before my brain registered what my body was doing. Ophelia’s claws stopped an inch from my face. Her eyes widened.

And my wolf – the wolf my mother had caged – rose to the surface and growled.

Not a sound from my throat. A vibration that came from somewhere deeper. It rolled through the courtyard like low thunder, pressing against the air, and every wolf within earshot felt it.

Ophelia’s wolf flinched. The training grounds went dead silent. Nobody moved.

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