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."

do, I promise." Abigail patted me on the leg just as the

too,' I replied, standing up and slinging a duffle bag over

for the station attendant to help us with the trunk.

us. "I don't know who, but I'll have a partner to work with during the next couple of weeks. I won't be

her as I found my seat on the train, watching as

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

three days. I'd taken my final, barely paying attention as my pencil worked across my last true assignment of my college career. I’d said my goodbyes

even a glimpse

happened in Crimson Creek,

the distance

a forest several miles away, however, the black,

of an engine approaching and turned my head, seeing a beat-up old truck bouncing over the ill-tended dirt

tracks and turning its lights

nodded, taking her hand as she extended it in greeting. "I'm Bethany, one of the farmhands at the Radcliffe 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 bag over

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

night. We didn't even have a room set up yet. I felt kinda

bed of the truck. Bethany shrugged, clapping her hands together as she moved toward the driver's

bunch of gear with him and started bossing all of us around, wanting a sterile workplace and

breathed, sliding into the passenger's seat with my duffle bag on

in gear, cursing under her breath as

older than my grandfather,' she laughed, patting the steering

"Sure," I said, smiling.

villagers Abigail had animatedly described. She smelled like soil, and green things, which sent a thrill through me. She likely knew her stuff, based on her dirt-stained fingers that were gripping the steering wheel as she steered us toward the

tomorrow, after settling in. Breakfast is at seven sharp, if you miss it, too bad. We have a valerian quota to meet by the end of the week, but it's been

asked, glancing over at

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

to last year, it’s a near failure. Nothin's growing like it should. We had to burn half the fields toward the west

narrowing my eyes

guessin'. Your research partner was going to test the soil today,

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