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."

write to you about everything I see and do, I promise." Abigail patted me on the leg just as the train came into

I replied, standing up and slinging a duffle bag over

to help us with

in front of 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 alone, so don't worry about me, okay?" I pulled

to 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 that were

worked across my last true assignment of my college career. I’d said my goodbyes to friends, and

hadn't seen even a glimpse

Whatever happened in Crimson Creek, well, that was

bumpy and incredibly 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 quaint, with little more than two or three rows of stone buildings before the buildings began to scatter into the rolling, grayish hills beyond, which were dappled with some cottages and

away, however, the black, gnarled trees were just specks against

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

train tracks and turning its lights off. A

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

and down the stairs. "I didn't know they'd gotten here before me," I murmured, slightly

last night. We didn't even have a room

trunk into the bed of the truck. Bethany shrugged, clapping her

of gear with him and started bossing all of us around,

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

truck in gear, cursing under her breath as

than my grandfather,' she laughed, patting the steering wheel.

"Sure," I said, smiling.

at all like the strange 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

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

so?" I 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 her size. She had a whiskey voice, smooth and

bad harvest this year. This is only my second season on the farm, but compared to last year, it’s a

narrowing

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

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