A Trap

The door clicked shut behind Elias, a sharp, angry sound that echoed the cold dismissal in his eyes.

I watched him go, a faint, almost invisible curve on my lips. Let him storm off.

My plan hadn't worked how I wanted, but at least he was reacting.

I stayed still for a moment, listening to the silence, before a soft knock pulled me out of my thoughts.

The door opened slowly. It was the young boy who had served me that terrible meal on my first day. He stood there, shoulders a bit slumped, but this time he held a large tray with great care. Next to him, standing straighter than usual, was Lara.

Then the smell hit me. It wasn't just the smell of food, it was the wonderful smell of roasted meat, fresh herbs, and warm, fluffy bread.

My stomach, which had gotten used to plain and barely edible food, gave a sharp, thankful rumble.

The boy carefully rolled the tray to the small table by the bedside and set it down. My eyes widened. This wasn't just food it was a feast.

A golden brown roasted chicken, shiny with herbs, sat proudly in the middle. Bowls of colorful, steamed vegetables, a rich, creamy stew, and a basket overflowing with soft rolls were also there.

There was even a small jug of fresh juice and a bowl of ripe, sliced fruit. It was grand, much more luxurious than anything I had seen since I came to this pack, and certainly more than anything I had eaten.

The boy offered a shy, almost sorry smile before bowing a little and leaving. Lara, who had been standing stiffly, her hands held together in front of her as if she were in charge of something important, suddenly broke down.

"My lady!" she cried, rushing to my side, tears streaming down her face. She practically fell into a heap at my feet, holding onto my clothes. "I thought you were going to die! I thought they had really hurt you!"

I looked down at the sobbing girl, a gentle smile forming on my lips. It was a strange comfort to know that someone here, even if it was just Lara, cared about me. "Somehow, my dear Lara," I said, my voice soft, "I always seem to survive."

I pulled her up, telling her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Come now, don't cry. Look at this food. It's truly amazing."

I picked up a piece of the juicy chicken, offering a bite to Lara, who took it without much thought. She chewed slowly, her tears slowly drying as the rich taste filled her mouth.

As I began to eat, enjoying each delicious mouthful, I encouraged Lara to join me.

The taste of real food, healthy and rich, was like a song I had forgotten, a painful reminder of what I had lost, but also a source of unexpected strength.

Between bites, Lara began to tell me everything that had happened after I had fainted. Her words tumbled out quickly the panic that had filled the packhouse, the Alpha's anger, the quiet whispers among the servants, and the sudden fear that had settled over everyone.

"Everyone was so worried about what would happen to you, my lady," Lara chattered, her tears slowly stopping as she ate more confidently. "Cynthia looked so surprised and then angry and the Alpha looked like he could kill someone"

"He probably could" I joked and Lara laughed really hard before she continued.

I listened, as I ate as much as could.

Lara was still talking, her voice a little muffled by a mouthful of food.

She spoke about the Elder and the look of fear on everyone's face as the Alpha carried me.

Suddenly, Lara gasped, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. Her eyes went wide, a spark of pure excitement dancing within them. "Oh, my lady! I almost forgot!"

I paused, a piece of chicken held close to my lips. "What is it, Lara?"

"When I was leaving the kitchen," Lara exclaimed, her face brightening with pure joy, "I saw the Alpha! He was checking the kitchen! All the shelves, even under the counters! He was going through everything, looking so serious!"

The chicken slipped from my fingers, landing softly back on the plate. A cold dread, sharp and sudden, spread through me. My earlier, brief feeling of victory disappeared, replaced by a bitter, crushing understanding. "What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Lara beamed, clapping her hands together. "Yes! He was looking everywhere! Finally, Cynthia is going to be caught! Your plan worked, my lady! He'll see all the awful things they've been doing to you!"

I shook my head slowly, the cold dread deepening into a numb certainty. My first thought had been that my accusation had worked but then, the cruel reality set in. "No, Lara. This is a mess."

Lara's smile faded, replaced by a confused frown. "What do you mean it's a mess, my lady? But this was exactly what you wanted! Finally, the Alpha is going to find out the truth! And maybe," Lara's voice softened with a hint of desperate hope, "maybe he isn't such a bad person after all. He'll defend you!"

I sighed, running a hand over my face. The weight of my mistake was heavy. "No, Lara. This would make him hate me even more, if that's even possible."

"What do you mean?" Lara asked, truly confused now.

"He's not going to find anything," I replied, my voice flat, empty of emotion.

"What?" Lara's eyes widened again, but this time with disbelief. "But why not? He looked so determined!"

"He's not going to find anything," I repeated, the reality of the situation settling heavily upon me. My earlier burst of defiance, my desperate attempt to shock him into action, had been foolish.

"They saw me fall at the wedding. They obviously knew I was going to claim it was because of what they fed me. They've probably thrown everything away. Every scrap, every rotten piece of food. They wouldn't leave any evidence."

Lara stared at me, her jaw slightly open. What I said made perfect sense. The cleverness of our enemies, had completely outsmarted us.

The hope that had briefly shined in Lara's eyes dimmed, replaced by a look of growing sadness. She looked like a child whose favorite toy had just been broken beyond repair.

The silence between us stretched, filled only by the sounds of my own heavy breathing and the distant murmur of the packhouse. I could feel her disappointment, a mirror of my own.

I knew that Elias, after searching without success, after finding no proof, would return to this room to put it in my face that what I said wasn't true when I fact it was the truth.

My words, meant to be a weapon, had become something that would turn back on me.

And just like I thought the door swung open. Elias stood there, his eyes sharp, his expression a mix of victory and disgust. He hadn't even bothered to knock this time.

"Nice try," he said, his voice short, edged with a cold mockery that scratched at my nerves.

I didn't look up immediately. I simply continued to eat, picking at a piece of chicken with a calm that even surprised me. I met his gaze for a brief second, my own eyes showing no emotion, before returning my attention to my meal. It was a small act of defiance, the only one I could afford at that moment.

Elias walked further into the room, his eyes scanning the large amount of food before me. "You claim my people feed you scrap," he scoffed, gesturing to the table. "But look at the food before you. Doesn't look like scrap to me."

I still didn't reply, didn't even acknowledge his presence with a sound. I just kept eating, the gentle clinking of my fork against the plate the only noise in the tense silence. Lara, silent and wide-eyed, seemed to shrink beside me.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Elias pressed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His voice was sharper now, filled with irritation.

He paused, a sneer twisting his lips. "So, the little actress has lost her lines? Or perhaps this sudden abundance of food has finally choked the venom from your tongue. Such a pity."

My fork, halfway to my mouth, paused. I slowly lowered it, placing it neatly on the plate. I wiped my lips with a napkin, calmly.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before I finally looked up. My gaze was steady, unwavering, and utterly dismissive, as if he were nothing more than a minor annoyance.

"On the contrary, Alpha," I said, my voice soft but clear. "One simply doesn't waste good lines on an unappreciative audience. This meal, however, deserves my full attention."

The anger flared in his eyes, hot and sudden, but beneath it, a flicker of something akin to defeat. He stood there for a moment, rigid, clearly expecting a different reaction, perhaps a scream, tears, or a desperate plea.

Instead, he got only my complete and utter disinterest. With a sharp intake of breath, he turned abruptly and strode out of the room, leaving the heavy silence and the lingering aroma of the meal in his wake.