The stage was cold against my bare feet, the wood rough and splintered in places that snagged at my skin. I stood there with my head bowed, the weight of the iron collar pulling at the back of my neck. The Great Hall was filled with the sound of laughter and the clinking of heavy glass. The scent of wine and roasted meat was thick enough to coat the back of my throat.
"Look at her," Alpha Leonard said, his voice carrying over the music. "Eleven years later, and she still hasn't lost that Lieu pride in her eyes. It makes the breaking so much more enjoyable, doesn't it, Beta?"
I didn't need to look at my father to know he was nodding. I heard the soft thud of his glass hitting the table.
"She was always a stubborn child, Alpha," my father replied. His voice was smooth, devoid of any regret or recognition. "Some bloodlines simply require more discipline than others. If she doesn't perform to your satisfaction, I will gladly oversee her punishment myself later tonight."
Leonard laughed, a harsh sound that made the guards at the edge of the stage smirk.
"Hear that, Aurora? Your own father is eager to get his hands on the whip," Leonard said. He leaned back in his throne, gesturing toward the center of the stage. "Now, dance. Our guest from the south hasn't seen the famous grace of the fallen Lieu family. Show him what you've learned in my service."
I didn't move. I kept my eyes on the floor, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. The chains rattled, a rhythmic metallic sound that seemed to irritate the guard standing nearest to me. He stepped forward and shoved the butt of his spear into the small of my back.
"The Alpha gave you an order, slave," the guard hissed.
I stumbled forward, catching my balance just before my knees hit the wood. I forced myself to stand upright. For eleven years, this had been my life. I was a puppet, a ghost, a thing to be used for their amusement. I began to move, my body reacting with a muscle memory born of survival. I didn't think of it as a dance; I thought of it as a series of forms, the same ones my mother had taught me in the courtyard when I was a child. I stripped away the shame they tried to heap on me, turning my movements into a silent counting of seconds until I could crawl back into the darkness of the kitchen.
"She's quiet tonight," Alpha Riya's father remarked. I could feel his eyes roaming over me. "I heard she hasn't spoken a word since the night of the purge. Is she truly mute, or just defiant?"
"She's whatever I tell her to be," Leonard snapped. "If I want her to scream, she screams. If I want her silent, she holds her tongue until it bleeds. She knows the cost of disobedience."
"I would have killed her years ago," the guest said, taking a long pull from his drink. "A wolf that won't shift and won't speak is a useless mouth to feed. You're too sentimental, Leonard."
"She's not for feeding," Leonard said with a smirk. "She's for entertainment. And tonight, she is going to be the centerpiece of our negotiations with the Hollow King."
The mention of the name caused a visible shift in the room. The laughter died down, replaced by a tense, heavy silence. Even my father straightened in his chair, his eyes darting toward the massive oak doors at the end of the hall