The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

Chapter 194: Episode 194.

Aire stood exactly where she was.

She could feel every pair of eyes in the room fixed on her, wating for her to get back to her senses, and kneel.

Nobody spoke, or moved. Somehow, that was worse.

Aire’s pulse hammered against her ribs.

She had made a mistake, and she knew it in her veins. This was a terrible mistake. The realization settled heavily inside her chest.

The figure seated upon the throne leaned back slightly. Coldness flickered across several faces around the table.

He visibly looked like he had just witnessed a rabbit bare its teeth at a pack of wolves.

Aire hated that.

She hated feeling small, and hated feeling helpless.

Most of all, she hated the certainty that she had walked into a world designed by people far crueler than anyone she had ever known.

Her throat tightened.

Instinctively, she reached inward, toward the silver power she had carried her entire life. She desperately reached toward the strange force that had always answered her call.

Nothing happened. Once again, her powers ignored her.

Aire froze. Her stomach dropped, and she tried again. Harder this time.

The familiar warmth should have been there. The feeling that something vast lived beneath her skin.

Cold fear slid through her veins when nothing answered. Have she lost her powers? How would that be possible?

She tried again, and she felt nothing. Not even a spark. She shut herveyes tightly, and tried harder, inwardly pleading desperately.

The court noticed, and several fae smiled.

Morrigan laughed.

"Oh."

Aire looked up sharply.

Morrigan rose from her chair. "I thought you noticed already but since you haven’t...."

Aire stared.

Morrigan reached into her sleeve, then slowly withdrew Aire’s silver hair again.

Aire’s breath caught.

Morrigan twirled it lazily between her fingers.

Aire’s hands clenched. The fury arrived so suddenly it nearly blinded her.

Morrigan smiled wider. "There she is."

Aire took a step forward before she could stop herself. The vines let her at that moment.

The room darkened instantly.

Several fae straightened in their seats, interested.

Morrigan looked delighted. "You want your power back." She mocked, dangling the silver lock before her.

Aire’s jaw tightened. "Give it to me."

The room erupted with laughter.

Mocking laughter.

They laughed like they were adults, and Aire was a child who demanded something impossible.

Morrigan lifted the lock higher.

"As long as I possess this willingly gifted strand of your hair, your connection to your power remains anchored."

Aire stared. "I don’t understand."

"No." Morrigan smiled. "You don’t."

She smiled, and approached Aire slowly with confident victorious steps. She held up the strand.

"Your powers would be redirected from now on."

Aire felt sick.

Morrigan continued. "You offered this freely."

"Aire, can I trim your hair?" The memory washed over Aire again. Aire felt a strong wave of renewed betrayal.

"Why not?" Aire remembered her reply, qnd nearly stopped breathing.

Morrigan’s eyes gleamed.

"You agreed." The fae practically purred the words. "You trusted me."

Aire’s chest hurt.

Morrigan leaned closer. "And trust is a very powerful thing."

The lock glimmered.

For a split second, Aire saw silver light moving through it. She never thought her hair should be protected at all costs.

Her stomach twisted violently.

"As long as I possess it," Morrigan said softly, "your gifts answer this realm before they answer you."

Aire wanted to rip the strand from her hand. She wanted to scream, and destroy something.

Instead she stood frozen.

She wasn’t merely imprisoned, she had been disarmed in the worse way possible.

A chair scraped against stone.

Aire looked up.

A woman with long golden hair rose from her seat. She looked beautiful, and terrifying at the same time.

Her eyes glowed faintly gold.

She crossed the room slowly, studying Aire.

Aire immediately stepped backward.

The blonde fae laughed.

"A frightened thing."

Morrigan glanced toward her. "What do you want, Claire?"

The woman shrugged. "I wanted a lock."

Aire’s stomach dropped.

Claire’s gaze settled on her silver hair. "Just a little one."

Morrigan barked a laugh. "It doesn’t work like that."

Claire frowned. "Why not?"

Morrigan held up the strand. "Because this was given." Her smile became almost smug. "I asked to trim her hair."

Several fae around the table groaned.

Morrigan looked incredibly pleased with herself.

"And she accepted."

Understanding crossed Claire’s face. Annoyance, and envy followed her expression.

"You lucky bastard."

The room laughed.

Morrigan bowed dramatically from the waist. "Thank you."

Claire rolled her eyes and returned to her seat.

Aire felt colder than before. The casualness at which they discussed her ownership terrified her.

The realization made her skin crawl.

Then the throne figure finally stood.

The entire court immediately became still.

Every conversation died, and every smile faded.

Aire swallowed.

The ruler descended the steps slowly, and ancient heavy oppressive power filled the room.

The figure stopped before her.

Aire forced herself not to look away.

The court watched eagerly, watching to see what happened next.

The ruler’s gaze moved over her silver hair, her tear-stained face, and her defiant eyes.

"Will you kneel?" He asked simply.

Aire’s heart pounded.

Every instinct screamed yes. Every survival instinct begged her to comply.

She thought about Nate, about Xanden, about Alaric, about home, and about the wolf realm.

Slowly, she thought about Marsali.

About the betrayal, about the trust, and about the lock of silver hair she had given so freely to an enemy.

Slowly, Aire lifted her chin. She shook her head, tired already. "No."

The word echoed through the court.

The room went silent.

The ruler stared at her for a long moment. He waited patiently for her to take back her word, and bow.

The ruler’s expression did not change. He gave her a quiet consideration, as though he were deciding what to do with an animal that refused to learn.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then he sighed. "Very well." His voice came out raspy and dry.

Aire’s stomach sank.

The ruler turned slightly toward Morrigan. "Teach her." He ordered, with a wave of his fingers.

Aire watched the dark shadows that were replaced with dark shadows swirling around it.

The court immediately smiled. Some looked excited, and others looked relieved.

Morrigan’s grin widened slowly. She powed respectfully. "As you wish."

Aire’s pulse exploded.

The vines around her wrists suddenly tightened, and the thorns pierced her skin. Pain shot through her arms.

Aire flinched, but she refused to make a sound.

Blood slid down her wrists.

Morrigan stepped closer. "You should have knelt."

Aire lifted her tear-bright eyes to meet hers. "No." She breathed.

For the first time since arriving, Morrigan’s smile faltered slightly.

Then she laughed, rubbed her hands together, and shrugged. "Oh, this is going to take longer than I thought."