Page 26 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
She had lost weight. She no longer bothered with fancy jewelry or hairdos. She barely said more than three words to them.
It was killing her.
She was better than this. Stronger than this. And yet she still trembled whenever she smelled Rick’s presence in the house, heard his footsteps echoing down the halls.
She hated herself for it, hot, angry tears rolling down her cheeks late into the night as she wallowed in her own pathetic weakness. She was no better than a ghost, a mere specter haunting the halls of Rick’s home, stinking it up with her ridiculousfear.
And yet, he never said a word to her. Never admonished her, never raised his voice. Most days, they didn’t see each other, and if they did, he would greet her with a curt nod, and she would scuttle away like some kind of mouse fleeing a tiger.
Somewifeshe was turning out to be.
A hazy autumn morning found her, bleary-eyed and pale, knees drawn up under her chin at the wide oak desk in her room, ink from her fountain pen slowly bleeding into her fingers as she stared listlessly at the blank sheet of paper in front of her.
She was writing a letter to Katie. Or at least, she was trying to. The words seemed caught in her chest, trapped in a netof her own fear, twisting and writhing and desperate to be free. She wanted to write everything, every ugly, horrible emotion. Get the vile, acrid poisonoutof her.
But writing it would make it real. Make it tangible. And if anybody ever found out…
She wiped the back of her nose with her silk robe, a decidedly unladylike gesture.
What did she care. Her hair was unbrushed, her face bare, her skin dull and tired.
She had to write something. Her father would get suspicious if she didn’t carry on as normal. She had to do what she had always done. She had to put on a mask.
So she began to write.
Dear Katie,
Thank you so much for your last letter. It’s so wonderful to hear that everything is lovely back home. You’ll have to tell me more about the summer races, you know that was always my favorite of the pack sporting events.
She paused, her throat growing thick, tears clouding her vision and making the words blur together on the page.
I can’t believe I haven’t told you about Silvermist! It’s so wonderful here. Everybody is so welcoming. I’ve already agreed to help with the autumn festivals, and I’m so looking forward to it.
A tear dripped onto the desk, and she wiped it away before it could reach the page.
I’ve also been enjoying getting to know Rick. He may seem intimidating, but he’s actually quite warm and gentle. His house is beautiful, and his daughter is an absolute delight.
A choking sob broke free, her hand trembling so badly that the letters all squiggled together into one incoherent mess.
I don’t want to complain, of course not. It’s such a small thing, inconsequential really. But if I could…if I could wish for one thing, it would be that I want to scream and rage and tear this WHOLE DAMN PLACE APART—
The paper ripped as she slashed her pen through the paper with a roar of anger, the nib crushing, black ink rippling out and staining the desk.
She sat, chest heaving, hands stained.
Enough.
That was enough.
She couldn’t go on like this. Not if she wanted to keep her sanity.
She inhaled deeply through her nose, pushing her hair back from her face.
She was Rosalia Reinhardt, formerly Heath, and she would not be defeated by her own fear.
Standing, she dumped the ruined paper and pen into the bin. She would do her best to salvage the desk later. Right now, she needed a hot shower.
***
