The Dying Alpha's Unexpected Fated Mate

Carina POV:

I stepped out of the room, now clad in the ridiculously ornate ceremonial gown. The guards immediately flanked me, their presence an oppressive weight on either side.

Mrs. Gable was waiting in the corridor, tapping her foot impatiently. Her eyes raked over me again, this time with a flicker of something that might have been satisfaction at seeing me in the sacrificial attire.

"This way," she barked, turning on her heel without waiting for a response.

We walked down a long, dimly lit hallway. Portraits of stern-faced Kensingtons watched me from the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow my every step, judging me.

As we passed a service corridor, I saw a small, terrified face peek out. Holly Hayes, my maid. Her face was pale with anxiety, her brown eyes wide with fear for me. She was a timid Omega girl, a distant relative of my mother's, and my only ally in this gilded prison. Her loyalty was her defining feature.

I gave a subtle, almost imperceptible shake of my head, warning her not to do anything foolish.

Mrs. Gable noticed my brief pause. "Keep moving," she snapped, shoving me lightly between the shoulder blades.

The physical contact was jarring. I stumbled but caught myself, my jaw tightening. The insult was a small, sharp stone I tucked away in my mind. I would remember it.

We reached the grand entrance of the manor. The massive doors were open, revealing a dark carriage drawn by two black horses. The air was cold, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

"My attendant," I said, my voice firm. "Holly. She comes with me."

Mrs. Gable scoffed. "You're in no position to make demands."

"The ritual requires a virgin attendant to present the bride," I lied smoothly,This is what I just managed to come up with. "It's to ensure the purity of the offering to the Goddess. Surely Lady Cristen wouldn't want to risk the ritual's efficacy over something so trivial?"

My lie was based on their own superstitious nonsense. It was a gamble that their fear of a failed ritual outweighed their desire to control me.

Mrs. Gable hesitated. Her face contorted with suspicion and annoyance, but the mention of the ritual's efficacy struck a nerve.

"Is this true?" she asked one of the guards, who just shrugged, clueless.

The uncertainty was enough. She didn't want to be the one responsible if the ritual failed because of a missing detail.

"Fine," she ground out. "Fetch the girl. But she rides on the outside with the driver."

"She must be with me to prepare me," I countered, pushing my advantage. "That is her purpose."

After a tense moment, Mrs. Gable gave a frustrated sigh and nodded curtly. Holly was quickly brought forward, trembling.

I was pushed towards the carriage. Before I could get in, the carriage lurched violently, a wheel dipping into a deep, freshly made rut in the gravel.

My head connected sharply with the low roof of the carriage door. I hissed in pain, feeling a trickle of warmth on my forehead. My fingers came away sticky with a trace of blood. I looked back and saw a smirk on the driver's face. This was no accident.

I was shoved inside. Holly scrambled in after me, her eyes filled with tears as she saw the cut on my forehead.

The carriage door slammed shut, plunging us into near darkness.

"My Lady, you're hurt!" Holly whispered, fumbling for a handkerchief.

"I'm fine, Holly," I whispered back, my voice urgent. "Listen to me very carefully. I don't have much time."

I grabbed her hands, stilling their trembling. "I need you to do something for me. It's very important."

She looked at me, her fear warring with her loyalty. She understood loyalty, if not strategy. That was enough.

I leaned in close, the carriage rattling as it started to move, and began to give her my instructions in a low, urgent whisper.