Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 503

Chapter 5: My Study Partner

*Lena*

Abigail was running her fingers through my hair, her fingers twisting my pale golden locks into a tight braid.

"I’m going to miss doing this for you," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she tied the end of the braid with a ribbon.

"I won't be gone forever. Just six weeks, maybe less," I replied, turning to face her. I wrapped her in an embrace, taking a deep breath as we sat on a bench on the train platform in Morhan. We'd spent the last three days packing up my meager belongings into a trunk and saying our goodbyes, which had included one last night out along the strip of bars that lined the street below our apartment.

Heather and Viviene were back at home, studying for their finals this upcoming week and preparing for their field studies. Abigail should have been studying too, but she’d insisted on walking me to the train station.

"I'm going to Mirage for my study," she breathed, leaning against the bench with her feet propped up on the trunk. I smiled at her, arching my brow. She met my eye and smirked, rolling her eyes. "The florist who makes the arrangements for the castle asked for a student from Morhan, and I applied."

"I’m not surprised you got it," I grinned, nudging her with my elbow.

Abigail, always oozing with confidence, was mum about her studies. She came from a family of flower farmers in southern Findali, and grew up poor, but she hadn't let that stop her. She was incredibly gifted and could name a type of flower just by touching the petals, or by smell, even if she had her eyes closed. Her flower arrangements that often littered our apartment had always been insanely extravagant.

But being a florist was something most students at Morhan thumbed their noses at, often putting more stock into being a biologist or climate scientist. I often thought that chipped away at Abigail, especially with Heather, Viv, and I being her roommates.

But Abigail's creations added beauty to our mundane, textbook-filled world.

"Maybe you'll make arrangements for the Luna Queen to fawn over while she sips her afternoon tea," I teased, nudging her again.

Abigail smiled, shaking her head. "I am excited about it, you know, despite how I act.

Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of one of the princes of Poldesse. I heard they come to Mirage quite often."

I shrugged, leaning back against the bench and looking out over the train tracks.

"Or, maybe I'll see the princess. I don't think I've ever even seen a picture of her."

"Me neither," I said, twirling my braid around my finger. "I've heard she's quite reclusive."

promise." Abigail patted me on the leg just as the train came

will too,' I replied, standing up and slinging a duffle bag over my shoulder. "Maybe I'll find the missing

station attendant to help

rolled to a stop in front of us. "I don't know who, but I'll have a partner to work with

found my seat on the train, watching as her bright, red hair faded from view as the train

and watched Morhan fade from view. The rolling grasslands of western Finaldi sped past as I slipped in and out of sleep. It was a six- hour journey to Crimson Creek; one of the last stops on the tracks that were

I’d said my goodbyes to friends, and my beloved roommates. I'd packed up the room I'd shared with Heather for three years,

hadn't seen even a glimpse of Slate,

in Crimson Creek, well, that was my

narrow, paved with broken cobblestone. It was a balmy Sunday afternoon, and a small market was visible in the distance as I stood on the train platform. The town was

the black, gnarled trees were

my head, seeing a beat-up old truck

train tracks and turning

farm. This all you got?" she said, motioning toward the trunk and duffle bag sitting on the ground next to me. I nodded, and she arched her brow, chuckling a little as she slung the duffle

and walk it across the platform and down the stairs. "I didn't know they'd gotten here

showed up at the farm last night. We didn't even have a room set up yet.

as we lifted the trunk into the bed of the truck. Bethany shrugged, clapping her hands together as she

of gear with him and started bossing all of

the passenger's seat with my

truck in gear, cursing under her breath

older than my grandfather,' she laughed,

"Sure," I said, smiling.

like soil, and green things, which sent a thrill through me.

is at seven sharp, if you miss it, too bad. We have a valerian quota to meet by the end of the week,

asked, glancing over

was piled messily on top of her head. She was also very petite, though likely an inch taller than me, but her voice betrayed

really bad harvest this year. This is only my second season on the farm, but compared to last year, it’s a near failure. Nothin's growing like it

asked, narrowing

roots, we're guessin'. Your research partner was going to test the soil today, see if he can pinpoint exactly what the problem

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