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."

about everything I see and do, I promise." Abigail patted me on the leg just as the

duffle bag over my shoulder. "Maybe I'll find the

Lena," Abigail warned, motioning for the station attendant to help us with the trunk. "And don't go out alone, okay?

I said, meeting her eye as the train rolled to a stop in front of us. "I don't know who, but I'll have a partner to work with during the

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

a six- hour journey to Crimson Creek; one of the

attention as my pencil worked across my last true assignment of my college career. I’d said my goodbyes to friends, and my beloved roommates. I'd packed up the room I'd

hadn't seen even a glimpse of

was the past. Whatever happened in Crimson

was exactly what Abigail had described. It was ancient, all of its buildings made of stone and its streets 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

several miles away, however, the black,

an engine approaching and turned my head, seeing

truck stopped in front of the platform, parking right along the train tracks and turning its lights off.

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 her

pick up the trunk and walk it across the platform and down the stairs. "I didn't know they'd gotten here before me,"

weren't supposed to. They showed up at the farm last night. We didn't even

as we lifted the trunk into the bed of the truck. Bethany shrugged,

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

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

under her breath as

thing's 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

tomorrow, after settling in. Breakfast is at seven sharp, if you miss it, too bad.

so?" I asked,

very petite, though likely an inch taller than me, but her voice betrayed her size. She had a whiskey

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 should. We had to burn half the fields toward the

narrowing my

was going to test the soil today, see

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