Hated

  Hated

  Goldilocks and the Three Dragons Trilogy Prequel

  Delia Castel

  Copyright © 2018 by Delia Castel

  Copyright © 2018 by Delia Castel. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Also by Delia Castel

  Writing as Cordelia Castel

  Chapter 1

  “Gold.”

  Marigold’s insides froze. She stared down at the dank, stone floor of the cell she shared with eleven other inmates and clenched her teeth. What had she done now? If this was another attempt to get her to pleasure a guard for extra rations, she would choose to starve. She raised her head, meeting Officer Moon’s amber eyes. “Yes, sir?”

  The bear shifter lumbered across the cell, scratching bushy sideburns that covered his round cheeks. “Pack your things. For reasons unknown, you’ve been awarded an early release.”

  Marigold sucked in a shocked breath, and loud gasps echoed off the cell’s cavernous walls. Not wanting to question her good fortune, she ducked under a stalactite, bundled up her spare change of clothes, casting her neighbor a wistful smile. Holle had been a good friend in the eighteen months Marigold had been incarcerated.

  “Good luck.” Holle’s lips trembled behind a mop of straggly, gray hair.

  Marigold’s chest tightened. How was Holle going to survive without her? As a thin, middle-aged woman, Holle was no match for some of the younger, female thugs who deserved their place at the House of Corrections. It had taken Marigold three months of daily fights to establish that she, and by extension Holle, were not easy targets. She stepped towards her friend, arms outstretched. “I’ll miss—”

  A bestial growl reverberated from Officer Moon’s throat. “If you don’t come with me right now, I’ll throw you into the pit and tell the Governor’s office you spat on their generous offer!”

  Marigold, along with the other inmates, stiffened. The pit was no ordinary hole in the ground. It was a basement dungeon inhabited by a deranged dragon. According to rumor, the dragon had once been a nobleman who had committed an act so heinous that he would be locked away forever. In Boreas, and in the rest of Igneous, dragon shifters sat at the upper echelons of society. No matter which crimes they committed, they never received the death penalty, unlike the other species that inhabited their country.

  Holle smiled, but the expression was more of a pained grimace. “Thank you for everything—”

  Marigold rushed at her friend and wrapped her arms around the other woman’s bony shoulders. “My cudgel is deep within the straw mattress,” she whispered. “Sorry for leaving you!”

  A meaty fist clamped around the back of her neck. Marigold’s heart jumped, and her eyes widened. Surely, he wasn’t going to carry out his threat?

  “You’re lucky that your early release papers were marked as urgent.” Moon’s breath was hot and damp against her ear, making her shudder. “Because you know what we do with disobedient wenches.”

  She wanted to tell him that his foul breath and rank body odor was punishment enough, but Moon was likely to take out his retribution on Holle, which would hurt Marigold more. Instead, she mumbled a barely audible apology, and stepped back from her friend, making sure not to bump into Moon’s huge belly. She’d be sure to get the last word later at the marketplace or at one of the many taverns in Maris, the capital of Boreas.

  Officer Moon clomped out of the cell, and Marigold followed him into the hallway. The prison guard slammed the heavy metal door and locked it with a six-inch iron key. They walked in silence to the vault, a large storeroom, which held everyone’s belongings. Moon unlocked the door. “Fetch the box with your name on it. If you touch anyone else’s, I will know.”

  She shrugged. No matter what anyone said or implied, she was no thief. She had only taken back from Lord Arctos what had belonged to her. It was not her fault that the lies of a corrupt bear shifter would outweigh the truth of a human. Marigold stepped inside the musty, dimly-lit room. Shelves laden with small, wooden chests filled the vast space. Each one had a name carved onto a wooden plate attached to its side. They were listed alphabetically, so she headed for the M section. She scanned the nameplates and frowned. Hers was missing.

  “Gold!” Barked Officer Moon. “What’s taking so long?”

  Marigold rolled her eyes and headed towards the G section. Somewhere around the middle, she found a nameplate etched ‘Merry Gold.’

  She took the small trunk of her belongings and left the store room. A grumbling Officer Moon locked the door, and they set off towards the giant double doors of the exit. The flickering lights of lanterns that had never seen a good cleaning provided, reflected off on an array of buckets left to catch water dripping from a leak in the stone ceiling.

  “I expect you’ll rejoin your gang,” he muttered.

  Marigold’s nostrils flared. That was the problem with bear shifters. They were so determined to establish their dominance over humans that they would say or do anything that made themselves feel superior. “I’m not a gang member.”

  “A lone criminal, then.” With a sage nod, he scratched the roll of hairy belly hanging from beneath his House of Corrections jacket.

  She clenched her jaw. Until she stepped out of those doors, she was a prisoner and subject to the guards’ punishments. Glaring straight ahead, she picked up her pace, desperate to reach freedom and have her last word. Officer Moon quickened his lumbering gait, and in moments, they reached the exit.

  A door on the right opened, and Officer Leuca loomed out, holding a tankard. From the golden froth and faint scent of honey clinging to his white, chest-length beard, Marigold guessed that it contained mead. He took several swallows from his drink and then let out a long, satisfied breath.

  “Is that Monica’s Majesty?” asked Moon.

  Leuca bared a mouthful of uneven, yellowed teeth in a grin. “Only the very best!”

  Moon licked his lips. “I don’t suppose you could spare a drop?”

  “A drop, he says!” Leuca winked at Marigold. “Last time I invited him for a sip, he drank the whole barrel!”

  All while on duty, Marigold supposed. It explained why she and her fellow inmates were only allowed out of their cells for an hour a day to wash and to empty their chamber pots. She forced a neutral expression and cleared her throat, making sure to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Maybe you could let me out first?”

  Leuca’s lip curled into his bushy mustache. “You would dare to give me orders, girl?”

  She shrank back, bracing herself for a blow.

  Moon raised a palm. “Easy, friend. The Governor asked for this one specifically.”

  Marigold's heart jumped, and she suppressed a gasp. What would such a high-ranking dragon shifter want from an eighteen-year-old orphan? She glanced from Moon to Leuca, not knowing what to say. The guards at the House of Corrections were never forthcoming with information, and she didn’t dare put herself in the position of asking for a favor. Those who made deals with the officers often ended up pregnant or with a festering, intimate itch.

  “Better let this one go, then.” Leuca downed the rest of his drink, pulled a foot-long key from his sword belt, and unlocked the door.

  A blast of snowy air chilled Marigold’s body, making her gasp. Despite
the cold, she filled her lungs with air sweeter than anything she had smelled during her captivity. It carried the scent of pines and snow and liberty. Pale sunlight streamed into the hallway, and she stared into the snow-covered courtyard. A lump formed in her throat. With one step out of those double doors, she would be a free woman, and those wretched bears would no longer hold power over her.

  “Go on,” said Leuca. “Clear off back to a life of whoring and thieving.”

  Bristling, Marigold clamped her jaws shut and stepped out of the doorway. Her boots sank into six inches of snow, numbing her feet. She took another few steps out of the guards’ reach and turned. “I expect that ugly gits like you two see all women as whores. A noseless crone wouldn’t shag you without getting paid!” The guards gaped, and her chest filled with triumph. Placing her hands on her hips, she puffed out her chest. “And I didn’t steal that bracelet, I was getting back what was rightfully mine. Lord Arctos should have been jailed for taking my inheritance, not me!”

  Moon jutted out his hips. “Next time you’re back here, you’ll service us all and like it!”

  Leuca snickered. “That bony wench would have to pay me! Who wants to dip his quill in that parched ink-pot?”

  Marigold's cheeks flamed. Trust them to ignore the part about the thieving aristocrat shifter and focus on the sexual comment. If humans were given trials, maybe then a record of all the trumped-up charges would be available for the dragons to see. She was about to voice this, when a large hand clamped on her shoulder.

  “Merry Gold?” said a gravelly voice.

  With a jolt, she turned around to find herself staring into the amber eyes of another bear shifter. Unlike the guards, this one was muscular. He wore a uniform of a navy jacket and matching breeches, and his beard was trimmed close to his lean face, reminding Marigold somewhat of Lord Arctos. She gulped. There was no point lying about her identity, as the two guards still stood by the door, making bawdy insults.

  She gulped. “Yes?”

  “I am Poda, your probation officer. Since you have no family to vouch for your good conduct, you are to be placed in a hostel for the remainder of your sentence.”

  “It’s all right for some,” said Officer Moon. “With no parents to be punished for her crimes, she’s free to reoffend as she pleases!”

  Officer Leuca shook his head. “Thieving little whore.”

  Rage heated her face, and she bared her teeth. “If you two think that being orphaned is something to be envied, I pity you! And taking back your property from an aristocratic thief is not stealing!”

  Poda’s hand, which was still on her shoulder, squeezed hard. “Apologize to your betters.”

  Marigold yelped, pulling herself out of his grip. “Is defending yourself a crime now?” When none of the bears answered, she gave herself a satisfied nod. Just because one species had greater physical strength than another, it did not make them superior. In fact, the conduct of the guards at the House of Corrections was bad enough to get most of them executed. She didn’t voice that, of course. Now that she had a bear shifter as a probation officer, she would have to keep her thoughts to herself for the next six months. After that, she was free to insult shifters with impunity. She turned to Poda. “I’m ready to leave.”

  Her probation officer scowled down at her but didn’t reply. Marigold offered back a glower of her own. She would not be intimidated. And if Poda struck her down, it would just prove that she had the higher, moral ground.

  Trudging through the knee-high snow across the courtyard was an effort, and by the time Marigold reached the other end, her skirts were soaked, and she had worked up a sweat. Two nickering horses stood in front of official Boreas Territory carriage, its door emblazoned with the Four Dragons coat of arms, representing the four territories of Igneous. Poda climbed into the driver’s seat and helped her get up.

  “What you did back there was foolish,” he said.

  Marigold settled into the wooden seat, lips pursed. A bear shifter like Poda would never know the rage and frustration of living under forced subservience. While the dragons held the highest position in Igneous, they were mostly regal and distant. Such beings would never impose their superiority on those they considered lesser. Poda continued staring without moving the carriage, so she replied with, “Oh?”

  “Whether it is true or not, speaking ill of a nobleman will have you thrown in jail for slander.”

  “I didn’t know that.” She glanced away into the twelve-foot walls surrounding the House of Corrections and shivered. The sooner she got away from a country where the victims of thieves couldn’t even complain about their oppressors, the better.

  Poda shook the reins, and the horses pulled the carriage through of the tall, wooden gates, which opened up into a road bordered by a pine forest. Marigold hugged herself and shivered against the icy wind. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore Poda’s droning on about things that could get her slung back into prison. His rambling, never-ending list amounted to one thing: she had to stay in her hostel during daylight hours, perform her assigned work enthusiastically and without complaint, and treat anyone she suspected was a shifter with the utmost courtesy and respect. She wanted to spit with disgust, but she supposed that was on his list of ‘things not to do’ as well.

  About twenty minutes later, they rode through the gates of a large manor house. It had the fancy timber frames of some of the mansions she’d seen in the homes near Lord Arctos’ dwelling. Marigold’s brows raised. Through chattering teeth, she asked, “Is this the hostel?”

  “Good.” Poda gave her a nod of approval. “You are starting to show the correct amount of appreciation.”

  Marigold sat up, excitement thrumming in her chest. Perhaps probation wouldn’t be so bad. She’d probably have to scrub floors, empty chamber pots, and perform grunt work, but if it meant sleeping in an actual bed, and staying in warm, clean surroundings, she would avoid doing all the things on Poda’s ridiculous list.

  After stopping outside the double height doors, they stepped down from the carriage. Poda walked ahead of her up the stone steps and lifted the large, brass knocker. Marigold’s stomach roiled. What if they wanted her to perform skilled work? She hadn’t learned a great deal at the Priory Orphanage except how to clean and launder. The nuns had given basic instruction on her letters, and Marigold had learned that her mother had died while giving birth. The only thing she had of the woman was a beautiful, gold, charm bracelet. She had acquired it upon leaving the orphanage at the age of thirteen. However, on one fateful trip to the Maris market, a noble called Lord Arctos had snatched it from her wrist, saying that a lowly human had no right to exquisite jewelry.

  It had taken Marigold three years before she could find employment as a scullery maid within the Arctos mansion. It had taken another year of snooping to find where the bear noble kept his valuables. And after three days of being reunited with the last trace of her mother, corrections officers had tracked her down to the house of her former fiancé.

  A plump, female bear shifter opened the front door. “Poda! It is good to see you.”

  The officer inclined his head. “Likewise. This is Merry. She is here to serve her probation.”

  “Very well.” After flicking her gaze down Marigold’s body, she stepped aside. “You’d better come in, then. Call me Martha.”

  Marigold furrowed her brow. Did she say Martha or Mother? Not wanting to make a bad impression, she nodded and stepped inside. A fire roared within the large mantle of the manor house. Marigold’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t felt this warm since her time serving under Lord Arctos. Martha led them up a grand, oaken staircase and across a hallway lined with gold-framed forest paintings. Marigold slowed her steps and chewed her bottom lip. Servants’ quarters were usually around the rear of the house.

  Poda prodded her in the back. “Keep up.”

  She picked up her pace and stopped by Martha at a white door.

  “This is your room.” Martha pushed open the door, rev
ealing the most luxurious boudoir Marigold had ever seen. A four-poster stood against one wall, flanked by two armchairs of what looked like burgundy silk. Heavy, plum-colored curtains, matching those of the bed, obscured the windows. Beeswax candles flickered from iron candlestick holders perched on mahogany tables and chests dotted around the room.

  “I don’t understand.” Marigold glanced from Martha to Poda. “Why would you put a former inmate in such fine accommodations?”

  Pursing her lips, Martha waddled out of the room. “I’ll leave you to do the explanations, then.”

  “What did that mean?” Marigold asked.

  Poda pulled the wooden trunk out of Marigold’s arms and placed it on the dresser. “This is a brothel, and you are to work here every day for six months to pay off your debt to society.”

  A cold shock blew through Marigold’s insides, and her mouth fell open to let out a shocked breath. She stepped back. Her calves hit the wood of the four-poster bed. “What?”

  “You heard me. Who do you think would employ a girl who spent the better part of two years in the House of Corrections?” He unbuttoned the jacket of his uniform, lust gleaming in his eyes. “And I’m going to be your first client.”

  Bile rose to Marigold’s throat. She edged away from the bed towards a side table. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “What do you do with women too old to carry out these kinds of duties?”

  He pushed off his jacket, revealing two long, pink nipples jutting out of a thicket of black chest hair. Marigold shuddered as he ran his hands down his bulky torso. “They work at places like the Debtors’ Jail, performing the most menial of duties.”

  “Take me there, then!” she screeched. “I’d rather clean out slops with my bare hands than work in a house of ill repute.”