AISLYN

I groan as I push the cart that’s loaded with empty dishes back in the direction of the kitchen. It’s the welcome ceremony of the Lycan king’s sister, and all of us slaves have been on our feet for hours making sure that everything goes according to her very particular desires.

My back hurts, my head hurts, but worse than that, my feet scream their exhaustion through a megaphone – yes, that’s grossly exaggerated. But who cares? My pain is insurmountable, okay?

I let my eyes ...