The Wolf Prince

CHAPTER 15



A good half hour passed while they rode in silence, the horses’ hoof beats on the moist earth the only sound.

Ruben and Willow kept close, almost within touching distance, while the other three rode behind them. Surrounded on all four sides by the armed guards, they couldn’t have made a break if they wanted to.

And, though he had no magic to speak of, Ruben did have his gut instinct. Right now, his gut was telling him that whatever was about to happen would be a good thing for Willow, possibly not so great for the others.

“I have no desire to interact with Shadows,” Eric intoned imperiously.

“They probably have no desire to interact with you either,” Tatiana said, surprising Ruben. Glancing back, he saw from the speculative expression Chad wore that she’d surprised him, as well. Even Willow cracked a half smile.

“Are you ready to meet some Shadows?’ Ruben asked Willow.

No, she wasn’t, he could tell by the flicker of panic that crossed her mobile face. “I guess so.” She sounded miserable.

Ruben studied her, stunned anew by the overwhelming urge to comfort her. “It might not be so bad, you know. It could be a great experience, getting to know your people. Despite how you’ve been raised, half of your heritage is here with them.”

“What do you two keep whispering about up there?” Tatiana asked, the edge of her irritation making her voice whiny.

“They’re probably talking about you,” Eric sneered. Then he kicked his horse and rode ahead of her, leaving Chad at her side. Grimacing, Chad glared at his brother before shooting Tatiana a look daring her to speak. He made no secret about being unhappy about this situation.

“Come on,” the guard captain ordered, nudging his horse into a jog. Reluctantly, they all followed suit. The farther they went into the valley, the heavier the fog grew.

Ruben’s skin pricked with unease. Soon, the mist was so thick he could scarcely see five feet in front of him. If not for the group of guards behind them, if they let the leaders get too far ahead, they’d lose sight of them and it’d be a simple matter of vanishing into the mist. Even if they’d been able to do this, Ruben doubted it would work. He knew from experience that life was anything but simple.

It seemed the Land of the Shadows truly was...in the shadows. And mist. Damp, dreary, chilly mist. He would much rather have ridden in the rain.

Before too long, they were all soaked. The horses were spooked, ears twitching and eyes wide, ready to spook at the slightest provocation. He glanced at Willow, who nodded, letting him know her mount had told her in no uncertain terms that she did not like this place. The horse and all her companion animals longed for wide-open meadows, fresh-cut hay and the warm sunlight of home.

Ruben could definitely relate to that. The sense of uneasiness wasn’t confined only to the horses. Everyone seemed jumpy, jittery. Ruben took deep breaths, calming himself. Beside him, he noticed Willow doing the same.

As they proceeded cautiously forward, gradually faint sounds drifted toward them in the mist.

As they inched along, Ruben listened carefully. Music and snatches of laughter. He reached over and touched Willow’s arm. “Do you hear that?”

She nodded. “What is it?”

“Sounds like we’re getting close to a town.”

“You know what? Though I know this is going to sound ridiculous, that floors me. For some reason I hadn’t expected the people of the Shadows to live regular, normal lives similar to the Brights.”

“What had you expected? Them to live in caves and underground, only emerging in starlight to cast their wicked spells?”

Expression sheepish, she looked down. “Put that way, it sounds even sillier.”

“So do you think it’s possible that they are, as Tatiana thought, exactly like the Brights, with gilded palaces and thrones draped in precious metals?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “To be honest, when I thought of them, I’d always pictured them as savages, content to live in dark squalor, full of evil intent and with below-average intelligence.”

“Why?” he asked, stunned.

“Because that’s what we’re taught as children. The Shadows are our Boogeymen.” She swallowed hard, her pained expression revealing she’d faced a bitter truth. “I’m stunned that I, who’d always prided myself on my open mind, could be so bigoted and so close-minded.”

“Especially about your own people,” Tatiana put in nastily, letting them know she’d been eavesdropping. “I mean really, Willow. If the rumors are true, you’re half Shadow. You’re not like that, so why should they be?”

“Point taken, Tatiana,” Willow said quietly. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

Her sister found that funny, which made Ruben want to lash out at her. But watching Willow wallow in her own misery made him bite his tongue.

When she realized Ruben studied her intently, Willow blushed. He nudged his horse so close to hers that his leg brushed against hers. “Don’t worry so much about the small stuff,” he murmured. “We all learn lessons as we go along. You’re no different.”

At first, she only nodded, still lost in her thoughts. He stayed by her side, keeping her in his sights and marveling at her quiet beauty. Finally, she glanced at him, appearing a bit surprised to find him staring.

“What?” she asked, smiling slightly and making him wish he could kiss her.

“Something just occurred to me, thanks to your sister,” he said. “Since everyone seems to think you’re part Shadow, do you want to try and find your father while we’re here?”

“Find my...?” Various emotions chased themselves across her features. At first, dumbfounded and shocked and appalled, all she could do was stand with her mouth open. “I hadn’t even thought of...”

“Of course you have,” he continued, relentless. “How could you not? We’re here, in his land. You have to wonder who he is, what he’s like. It’s human nature.”

“Maybe it is but,” she reminded him, “I’m not human.”

“Even so,” he persisted. “You must be curious.”

“Maybe a little. But I’m more interested in helping you find the killer.”

“The killer isn’t here,” he told her. “We all know that. We’d have to go back to SouthWard to find him.”

Stunned, she asked, “Then why are we still here?”

Flashing a wry smile, he touched her arm. “It’s not like we had a choice, remember?”

To his surprise, she grinned back. “You do have a point.”

“About your father?”

Her smile faded. “I’ll have to think about it.”

He took that as promising, especially since she hadn’t refused outright.

Surrounded by soldiers, they were led on a silent march, down a path into a murky valley, where even the flowers seemed mere spirits of actual plants. A low mist shrouded everything—sky and forest and earth—and seemed almost tangible, as though conjured to life by a spell from a long-dead sorcerer.

Despite the gloomy appearance, Ruben did not sense true evil or danger. But then again, he reflected ruefully, he was not only without the magic these people took for granted, but he was damaged. A wounded Shifter, afraid to trust the senses of either half of his dual nature.

The mood among his little group grew bleaker. Even the horses appeared listless, as though their energy had been leached by the overwhelming dreariness of the landscape.

When the castle appeared, seeming to spring from the earth in a maelstrom of blackness, someone gasped. Not Willow, who despite everything had remained resolutely at his side. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Tatiana, clinging to a disinterested Chad, eyes wide, practically quivering from fear.

The closer they came, the more menacing the place seemed. The breeze even smelled differently. He swore he detected the salty scent of the sea mingled with the ever-present cloyingly damp mist. The ocean smell reminded him of Teslinko, though his home had been sunny and warm, and he felt a sharp pang of homesickness.

Willow shivered, wrapping her arms around herself in a futile attempt to get warm. Because of the moisture in the air, their clothing had grown soaked and remained that way, no matter how far they rode or how the breeze gusted and blew. Unhappiness hung over them like a miserable black cloud and their physical discomfort only strengthened it.

And he was no closer to finding the killer. Again, Ruben sighed. He didn’t really need to be here; in fact, he was wasting precious time wandering these dark lands. The one who’d traveled to Teslinko and murdered a servant was one of the Brights. He didn’t believe the killer would be so foolish as to travel here, where his golden hair would stick out like a sore thumb.

Again, he thought of Chad. Mentally, he reviewed his memories of the man he’d seen briefly in the woods, following Willow. Tall, golden hair, purple eyes. An arrogant, chiseled face.

Could that have been Chad? Was it possible Chad actually was the one Ruben hunted?

A quick glance at the other man, and he decided no. No killer would be foolish enough to attach himself to the one who hunted him, placing himself constantly in contact with someone who might recognize him.

Therefore, Chad could not be the killer. Ruben must continue to search until he found him.

In any other situation, Ruben would have found a way to escape and gone on about his task. Instead, he’d remain here for one reason and one reason only. Willow. She’d been so transparent with her need to connect, to have people, a family of her own, despite vehement denials. This he could never refuse her. He suspected the others were intrigued, which explained while they hadn’t yet rebelled.

“Don’t worry,” Willow murmured, tugging on his sleeve. “I’m really good at sensing danger. Right now, I sense nothing.”

No doubt, she thought he was afraid. Gazing down at her, he allowed himself to be distracted by her soft, kissable lips. Then, as her eyes widened and her pupils dilated, he swallowed, bringing himself back to the situation at hand. He nodded, unsure of whether or not to trust her instincts.

A screech came from above them, loud and piercing and shocking. Tatiana let out a little yelp, as though she’d been stung. Even Ruben and Chad jumped. Only Willow remained perfectly calm and steady.

She lifted one arm, bracing her small body as a huge bird of prey landed on her, exactly as if she’d summoned it.

The hawk swiveled its head, fierce and wild and glorious. Inside, Ruben’s wolf strained against invisible bonds, wanting to snap at the bird.

All watched in stunned silence at Willow stroked the bird’s feathers, crooning wordless, nonsensical sounds in a soothing voice.

When the hawk nestled in close, delicately moving Willow’s hair with its fierce beak, several of the guards began to mutter. Neither Willow nor her winged friend paid any heed. In fact, as she and the bird interacted, Ruben knew she was doing her thing and communicating with the hawk.

One of the soldiers raised his bow and fitted it with an arrow.

“No,” the captain barked an order. “Stand down.”

Instead, the soldier pulled back the bow. Ruben didn’t think—he launched himself at the man, connecting in time to send the arrow harmlessly into the sky.

The hawk screeched. Huge wings flapping, it launched itself up, the force of its flight knocking Willow off her horse onto her back on the forest floor. She writhed in pain, the breath knocked out of her.

Cursing, Ruben pushed himself off of the stunned soldier, shoving the man away and leaving him for his commander to deal with. He rushed to Willow’s side and helped her to her feet. At first she hunched over, heaving as she struggled to draw her breath. Gradually, she straightened, her cough subsiding. She wiped at her streaming eyes and sniffed.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing the leaves and pine needles from her hair.

Eyes huge and face far too pale, she nodded.

Chad made a rude sound and sauntered over, Tatiana still clinging to him like a leech.

“What the shades was that?” he asked, glancing up at the stars as though he expected an attack from above. “That bird acted like your personal hawk. Is that your form of magic?”

Tatiana laughed. “My sister has no magic,” she said, her mocking tone cutting. “Not even enough to call a wild bird.”

Chad narrowed his gaze, looking from one sister to the other. “Is that true?” he asked, his tone demanding.

Willow just smiled sadly and turned away. When she began moving forward again, the entire armed escort snapped to attention. Then, as if she’d given a verbal command, they fell into place, surrounding the three Brights and Ruben on their way to the castle.

Whatever secrets the hawk had divulged to Willow, apparently she now felt compelled to continue on to the dark castle. Despite the fact that he had no hope of finding the killer here—the suspect was Bright, after all—Ruben knew he had to keep her safe.

The closer they got to the castle, the grimmer it appeared. If King Puck and Queen Millicent’s palace had been over-the-top glitz, this castle could be considered the polar opposite. Where everything had sparkled and shone at the home of the Bright, here the absence of light was what made the place notable. The grim stone appeared to devour anything bright or shiny. What little light there was seemed to sink into its inky blackness.

At the thought, Ruben glanced at Willow and her sister, hoping that didn’t apply to Sidhe, as well. Surely, the palace wouldn’t devour them.

They rode to a stop and at a signal, the entire regiment of guards dismounted. They motioned to Ruben and his party to do the same.

Slowly, they all followed suit. As soon as everyone’s feet were on the ground, black-clad groomsmen appeared and led their horses away.

Meanwhile, their armed escorts continued to look straight ahead, unblinking. Ruben began to wonder if some sort of magic compelled or hypnotized them.

No sooner had he finished the thought when the massive obsidian doors swung open. Inside, a yawning hole of blackness. Of course.

“Don’t you people use any kind of light?” Ruben asked, directing his question at the captain of the guard. Predictably, the soldier didn’t answer. In fact, each and every one of them continued to stand at stiff attention, though their faces had regained some color and motion. They waited as though they expected someone to exit the castle and inspect their ranks. Which meant, no doubt, that someone would.

A sense of expectation hung in the air, nearly visible.

Willow gripped his arm. He saw she had the same rapt expectation on her lovely face. A quick glance showed everyone, from the soldiers to Eric and Chad, had the exact same look.

A moment later, he saw why. A tall man, hair as black as the night sky, strode out of the mouth of the castle. Dressed all in black, the only spot of color was the blood red lining of his long cloak.

At the sight of him, Ruben’s wolf growled. Their soldier escort immediately dropped to their knees. Only Willow, Ruben, Chad and Tatiana remained standing.

Ruben braced himself for a fight. A quick glance at Chad showed the Bright man had also adopted battle stance.

Willow stood frozen, in obvious shock. Her sister however, was not so bold. After one quick look at the dark man, Tatiana dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

Though brave Willow trembled violently, she held her ground. As the Shadow king approached, she held her head high, like a queen about to receive a supplicant.

Ruben admired her courage even as he feared for her safety. He tried to go to her, shocked when he found himself unable to move. When he glanced over at Chad and Eric, he noticed they both struggled futilely beside him. Whatever magical spell had gripped him had touched them, as well.

He did not care. He would not give in. This was Willow, and he would not abandon her when she needed him most. With a huge shudder, he pushed through, feeling the very atmosphere tear as he broke free.

Before the dark king reached her, Ruben stepped in front, placing himself squarely between Willow and danger.

To his shock and disbelief, Willow pushed her way around him, so that she once again stood, alone and unprotected, to wait for their enemy’s approach.

“He is not our enemy,” Willow said, again as though she’d read his mind. Her beautiful dark eyes glinted—with unshed tears?

Ruben looked more closely at the Shadow king. Something about him seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until he compared his features with Willow’s that he realized what he saw. Similarity. Willow had the same chin, the same skin tone and the same almond-shaped eyes.

Howling hounds. Was this man Willow’s birth father? He hadn’t expected it to be this soon or this easy. Stepping back, he decided to wait and see.

* * *

Willow stared at the man who had sent the hawk to find her and who, also according to the hawk, had sired her. She waited for a jolt of recognition. But when she met the tall man’s caramel-colored eyes, so like her own, she felt...nothing. No immediate sense of kinship, no feeling that fate had somehow worked a miracle by bringing them together. Not even the lurking sense of completeness that she’d half hoped would finally click into place.

The king glanced once at the others, then his cryptic gaze settled finally on her.

“Welcome to NorthWard,” the tall man said, his aristocratic features showing no hint that he knew who she was. “It’s been many long years since a Bright has graced our shores.”

Shores? For the first time she realized they must be near an ocean. As she was about to speak, Eric and Tatiana snapped out of their trance. They jostled each other while rushing forward, vying to claim recognition as the head of their respective families.

They both began speaking at once, their words tumbling over each other in a jumble. The dark king waited one heartbeat, two, then raised his hand and silenced them as effectively as if they’d been gagged.

“Someone will show you to your rooms,” he told the others. Once again he looked at Willow and this time, he held out his arm for her to take. “Walk with me,” he said.

Hesitating briefly, she placed her hand on his arm and went with him.

As they walked, he talked. He spoke of nothing of consequence; rather he described his gardens to her in such lush and lavish detail she could almost smell the blooms. She got a sense he was testing her, sounding her out as though a short conversation would give him an insight into her soul.

She played along, nodding and smiling politely, though she volunteered nothing about herself. They strolled down long, empty hallways, eerily similar to those in her home except for the stark lack of color. After his garden, he spoke of pets and land and horses. Finally, he got around to telling her about his family.

He and his queen had three children, two boys and a girl. The eldest and heir had recently married and his wife was expecting a child in a few months. Willow caught her breath at the thought that she might have half brothers and a half sister, but until this man broached the subject, she wouldn’t even allow herself to consider the possibility.

Finally, he stopped in front of a door. It was, like all the others, constructed from a single piece of black obsidian.

“This is your room,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’ll leave you here to rest and freshen up. Someone will come and get you for a more formal audience, at which time you may meet the rest of my family, if you like.”

Taking a deep breath, she wished she had the courage to finally ask if they were her family, too.

Instead, she smiled back and thanked him, then entered the room she’d been given, letting the door close softly behind her.

Alone, she realized her hands were shaking. She didn’t know what to think. Was this man, this king, her father, as the hawk had claimed? If so, why did he not acknowledge who they were to each other? Was he testing her for some reason?

Finally she turned and studied her room. The bed, despite the unrelenting black of the fluffy comforter, looked soft and warm. Too tired to think straight, she crawled between the sheets and let the welcome oblivion of sleep claim her.

* * *

Ruben was too keyed up to sleep, so he decided to explore the castle. He hadn’t been given strict instructions to remain in his room or anything. He found a flowing cloak with a hood and settled it around his shoulders. Since Willow had once told him that the Brights would not welcome him in their land, he could only imagine how the Shadows would feel.

The empty hallways had an eerie feel to them, enhanced by the monochromatic coloring. No stranger to palace life, he kept expecting to encounter someone, anyone. A harried servant, a bored socialite, the requisite drunk uncle. Instead, his footsteps echoed off the granite walls, reinforcing his solitude.

With each turn, the endless expanse of hallway stretched out before him, dark walls studded by black doors. Finally, he came to a landing with a massive, two-sided staircase. He could either go up or down.

He chose down. And as he took the steps two at a time, gradually the hum of voices came to him, letting them know there was a part of this castle still full of life.

When he reached another landing, he realized the sounds came from still another level down. The curve of the massive staircase made it impossible to see below, so he continued on. Once he stepped onto the next landing, he saw a crush of people gathered around a set of double doors at the end of yet another infernally long hallway. He hurried to join them, not certain what they were doing, but curious nonetheless.

Though several cast him curious glances, no one questioned him as he took his place in the line of people pressing through the doors. The tide of bodies carried him inside, disgorging him as everyone headed in their own direction.

He glanced around and realized he was in the throne room. He thought of the one at home, remembering how he’d compared it to the SouthWard room. Then, he’d believed that difference to be great, but the difference between Teslinko and SouthWard was nothing compared to this.

The Shadows’ throne room, like everything else in the palace, was dark, very nearly sinister, whereas the Brights’ had been over-the-top, glittering, gaudily, bright. The sharp contrast between the two throne rooms was as remarkable as the difference in the castle itself. Lit solely by giant iron candelabras, the black marble floors gleamed, reflecting back the candlelight which gave the room a gloomy, surreal appearance.

Trying to blend in with the others would be an exercise in futility, especially since he wore trousers of a soft fawn color and his shirt was a pale blue. The entire court wore dark colors—deep maroon, navy, purple and the ever-present black.

Despite their proclivity to drabness, by contrast the people appeared happy, wearing bright smiles and joyous expressions as they chatted with their neighbors. No one seemed to take notice of him, standing alone and feeling out of place on the edge of several large groups of people.

There was no dais; rather the enormous black obsidian throne sat beside an immense fireplace where only embers smoldered.

The king, dressed all in black, waited regally for his subjects to approach. Briefly, Ruben wondered why his queen didn’t hold court with him, then as King Drem began to shimmer right in front of his gaze, he forgot about the question. The king faded and reappeared, solid one moment and ethereal the next. He and the chair appeared to merge, becoming one. Only when he flashed his white smile did people begin to move.

Again, there appeared to be no orderly process. As far as Ruben could tell, if one wished to speak to the king, he or she took their place in line and waited patiently for their chance.

Since he had absolutely nothing to lose, Ruben got in line and mentally prepared to appeal to the king.

When he reached the front of the line, he stepped forward. Taking his cue from the men who’d gone before him, he dropped to one knee in a gesture of respect.

“Welcome again, Prince Ruben of Teslinko,” King Drem boomed. “What can I help you with on this glorious day?”

“I need to get back to the land of the Brights,” Ruben said, the urgency in his tone making it no less respectful.

“Are you certain?” King Drem regarded him curiously. “What do you seek there that cannot be found here?”

Ruben hoped the tight set of his jaw didn’t betray the fact that the Shadow king acted as though he might have to stay here forever. He had to tread carefully, so he drew himself up and looked the other man in the eye. “I hunt a murderer, a killer who crossed from that land to mine and brutally slay one of my servants.”

King Drem’s dark brows rose in surprise. “A murderer? Among our people? We are not killers, whether Shadow or Bright. That does not seem possible.”

“I assure you that it is.”

“And you’re certain.”

“Very certain. My servant is dead. And I saw the man cross the veil. A magical artifact is also missing.”

At his words, the king’s expression grew pensive. “And the one you seek—is he Bright or Shadow?”

“Bright. The man had golden hair and purple eyes. He was tall, broad shouldered and athletic.”

“Like the SouthWard princes?” the Shadow ruler asked, glancing at them.

Eric and Chad, who stood with a group of admiring women, were oblivious.

“Yes,” Ruben answered. “Like them. Though something is off with the younger brother.”

The king frowned, studying them. “He uses some sort of magical glamour, dulling his appearance.”

“Dulling it? Would that change his appearance very much?” Enough to ensure that Ruben would not recognize him? Suspicion and anger burned in his chest.

“It’s possible.” King Drem shrugged. “Did you think to ask him why?”

“Willow told me. I think it was his peculiar way of courting her.”

“Courting? He wishes to marry her?”

“Her parents arranged the match.”

“Millicent and that...” Anger flashed across his aristocratic features. “They’ve arranged for my...for their daughter to marry a man of the East?”

“My mother has little use for me,” Willow put in, startling Ruben, who hadn’t been aware she’d arrived.

Coincidence? Or had she been summoned? He turned to look at her, crossing his arms to keep from reaching out to her as she took a step closer to the throne.

“I think my existence reminds her of things she’d rather forget,” Willow continued. She took a deep breath and raised her chin in that cute way she had, letting Ruben know she was about to do something that, for her, was very brave.

“I need to know something, your Highness,” she said, her voice barely quivering. “When you sent word to my room that you wanted to see me, I came willingly, because I must ask you a question.”

The king nodded. “Go ahead.”

Quickly glancing around at the packed room, she frowned. “Perhaps we should speak in private?”

“I don’t see the need.” He smiled, making Ruben wonder if he already knew what Willow meant to ask.

“I have no secrets from my people,” the king said. “Please. Ask your question.”

“Very well.” She took a deep breath. “I would like to know if you are my birth father.”