Chapter 7 The preparation

Verona

I had spent the entire day holed up in my room. So much for leaving today. Evening fell quietly, the sun casting long shadows across the chamber, when a knock echoed against the door. I sat up, not expecting anyone.

“Come in,” I called, my voice hoarse from idleness.

To my surprise, several maids entered, carrying trays laden with a variety of food. My eyes widened at the sight of food they carried.

Were there maids here earlier? I had not seen a single one. The only people I had encountered were Evan, Tori, and Obed.

“Here is your dinner,” said one maid, a woman with brown hair spiked neatly, her posture and air commanding enough that I immediately knew she outranked the others. She wasn’t the one lugging the trays.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, caught off guard.

“I am Laila, and we shall be serving you from now on,” she said with a bow, so low it almost brushed the floor.

“Um… you don’t have to,” I said, my brows furrowing. Why would she bow like that to me?

“I am afraid, ma’am, that will not be possible. We are your servants, and you may use us as you see fit,” she replied calmly, her voice smooth yet slightly chilling.

Creepy… definitely creepy. But I simply nodded, not wanting to prolong the moment.

After they arranged the food neatly upon the side table, they bowed again and departed. I was left blinking, unsure how to respond. Somehow, I found myself bowing too.

Katara, perched lazily on the bed, purred loudly.

“Yeah, I know. You smell that meat too, huh?” I said, grinning as she hopped down and padded over to the table. I followed.

I couldn’t help but think of Evan, my grandfather. The thought almost made me laugh—until I remembered the massive wolf I had seen yesterday. Its golden fur had gleamed like molten sunlight, and the sheer size of it… terrifying, majestic, beautiful.

I never knew Nana had a type.

I sat and began to eat, the flavors oddly comforting amidst all the strangeness.

---

The next morning, I bathed and just as the night before, and the maids appeared again, trays in hand, bowing as they placed the dishes before me. The ritual was… unnerving. I sighed. Could I ever get used to it?

Before I could dwell too long on my own thoughts, a knock sounded at the open door. I turned slowly. Standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, was Evan. He looked… normal. Clean, composed, not at all like the man I had seen screaming at the top of his lungs the day prior.

“Shall I come in?” He asked, his voice steady.

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips.

As he stepped inside, the maids bowed even deeper than they had for me. He waved them off, and they hurried out without a word.

“I see you are settling in,” he said, taking a chair opposite me.

“Well… you said I’m not going home,” I said.

He crossed his arms and regarded me for a moment. “This is your home, Verona,” he replied. His tone left no room for argument. I nodded silently.

I did not wish to speak of yesterday, and it seemed he did not either. He cleared his throat, a deliberate, measured sound.

“Now that you are here, I must introduce you to the king of all elders, alphas, and werewolves and wizards.”

I blinked, startled. “The king? You know him personally?”

“Yes,” Evan said simply. “He and my father were friends.”

My mouth fell open. “Then… he must be an old man.”

Evan chuckled softly. “Indeed he is. And tomorrow marks his seven-hundred-and-sixtieth birthday.”

I shrieked before I could stop myself. “Seven-hundred and sixty? Are you kidding me? Can you… can you guys actually live that long?”

I didn’t even believe it, though a part of me wanted to.

Evan fell silent for a moment, considering. Then he spoke, calm, measured:

“The Alpha King does not die.”

Every fiber of my being leaned in. “How?” I asked, perplexed.

“That is his blessing—or curse, as he prefers to call it. In any case, tomorrow is his birthday, and you shall be presented to him. I have summoned a designer—she will bring dresses for you. Choose the one that pleases you.”

He rose smoothly from his seat, his movements deliberate and noble. Evan doesn't seem to be a man with many words.

“Ah,” he added with a small, amused smile, “and she is human.”

I nodded. “She knows nothing of the paranormal,” he said.

“I will leave you to eat,” he added, and with a polite nod, he departed, leaving the room quieter, though far from empty.

But isn’t it far too soon for me to meet their king? I wondered what he would look like at his age—perhaps frail, weighed down by time.

Or maybe he’s like Evan. Yet if Evan’s words are true, that his father and the king were friends, and considering the king’s seven-hundred-and-sixtieth birthday is tomorrow, then he must be very old indeed.

I began eating, offering some to Katara as she joined me. “I wonder if I’ll do well when I meet him,” I murmured. I’ve never been accustomed to standing before people with such power, and knowing he is the king of werewolves… I didn’t know if I’d be able to handle it.

Soon enough as Evan had said, a designer arrived—Madam Ariel, as she introduced herself. She made me try on countless dresses until I was utterly exhausted. “You seem to be the only normal person here,” she remarked, shuddering. “Everyone else… well, they give me the icks.” and I chuckled, if only she knows.

“Well, for the grand event you’ll be attending, this red dress suits you best,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over me. “It highlights your curves beautifully. I must say, you’re a very stunning woman.”

And she wasn’t wrong. The dress seemed made for me. “Then we shall go with this one,” I said, and she nodded in agreement.

“Hmmm, and more,” Madam Ariel said, turning to her apprentice. “He said you may choose as many as you like. Give her that peach one… yes, and the green as well.”

I sighed, glancing at the pile of dresses. When, oh when, would I finally be done with this endless fitting?

The entire afternoon had been swallowed by the dress fittings, and by the time I finally collapsed onto the bed, I was utterly spent. Trying on gown after gown was exhausting enough, but being completely unused to such luxury made it all the more draining.

“I know you’re tired, but there’s something you must be taught,” Obed’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

I shot upright, irritation flaring. “How many times have I told you to stop appearing like that in front of me?” I barked at him, he was now fully in his adult form.

“I don’t care,” he said casually. “And what if I was naked?” I asked, cutting him off, the words escaping before I could stop them, and his surprise was instantaneous.

“Well, you’re not,” he said quickly, trying to recover. “But I’m not here to argue. I’m here to teach you how to properly greet the king.”

I sat up straighter at that, forcing myself to pay attention despite my fatigue. I couldn’t afford to embarrass myself tomorrow.

For the next hour, he guided me patiently, walking me through the proper posture, the right way to bow, and the careful phrasing expected before the king. Every motion felt stiff at first, but slowly I began to get it.

Once I had finally flopped back onto the bed, utterly drained again, I asked, “So… tell me. How does the king look?”

“You will know when you see him,” Obed replied, a faint smirk in his tone. I nodded, too tired to press further.

“Well, then you can leave,” I said.

“We shall meet tomorrow,” he reminded me before fading away. “Rest well.”