Defying the Rogue Alpha

"Nobody," Ava said. "But I’d think whatever she’s done, there are other ways to punish her—ways that don’t involve scarring her face!"

Queen Eliza’s nostrils flared, her jaw tightening. "You little piece of shit," she hissed, stepping closer. "When you first came here, you were begging me to let you go. Eyes puffy, voice trembling. Now look at you—growing wings, and yet you won’t fly. Pitiful."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said coolly, "but what I do know is—I hate bullies."

Queen Eliza’s eyes went wide, her lip curling into a feral sneer. "You little slut," she seethed. "Taking my husband wasn’t enough, was it? Now you dare to challenge me, in my palace?" "If by challenging your authority you mean not letting you slap innocent people around, then yes." Ava’s face was calm, but her heartbeat was tap dancing in her ears.

And then, Eliza’s arm shot up. A royal slap was incoming. Ava’s eyes widened—reflexes kicked in. She caught the queen’s wrist mid-air. Her grip was strong.

"I, on the other hand," Ava said through gritted teeth, "can defend myself." She threw the Queen’s hand back—not roughly, just enough to make a point.

But Eliza was long past the point of no return. Logic had packed its bags and left. She lunged again. She grabbed Ava by the hair and yanked hard, jerking Ava’s head forward.

"Seriously?!" Ava squealed, trying not to scream. She swatted at the Queen’s hands, trying to pry the talons off without hurting her. She didn’t know the laws here. Was it a beheading offense to elbow the queen in the stomach? Probably. So she wrestled gently.

Meanwhile, Lucia, face white as chalk, had gone from trembling in fear to full-blown panic. "I’ll get help!" she shouted, skirts flying behind her.