The Wolf Prince

CHAPTER 3



After her initial surprise wore off, Willow got out of bed and hugged Tatiana awkwardly. Years ago, Tatiana had trained her that any attempt at touching her would not only be rebuffed, but ridiculed. Apparently, that rule had been suspended, at least temporarily.

Still silent, Willow patted her sister’s shoulder and let her cry.

“I don’t want to marry Prince Eric,” Tatiana finally sobbed, raising her mascara-stained face to Willow’s.

Doubly shocked, Willow stared. Tatiana’s ruined appearance, combined with her words, proved she actually meant it.

Aware she needed to tread carefully, Willow ventured a comment. “I thought he was the golden one, the prize among all princes.”

“And the way our two kingdoms can join forces against the Shadows,” Tatiana recited, as if by rote. “I know, I know.”

“You said he was beautiful.” In the past, appearances had been all that had mattered to her gorgeous older sister.

“He is, he is,” Tatiana moaned. “Like I said, he’s almost as beautiful as me.”

What would have been extreme vanity in others was a simple statement of fact. Tatiana was the most beautiful among the Bright. And all knew it.

Again, Willow waited, knowing it would be better if she didn’t speak just yet.

“But...” Tatiana began.

And here it came. The big but. For the life of her, Willow couldn’t figure out what it might be. Prince Eric was wealthy, powerful and the heir to the EastWard throne. Once married to him, Tatiana would be in line to become Queen of the EastWard and, if their parents’ dream came true and the SouthWard and EastWard people united, Queen of all the Brights.

A power that had never before existed.

If Willow knew her big sister—and she did—it would have to be something awful to make her want to give up that much power.

“That’s the problem,” Tatiana sniffed. “He’s too beautiful. Everyone will be looking at him. No one will even notice me.”

Willow shook her head. “That’s not possible. And think of the adorable children you’d have.”

“Children born of two good-looking parents are usually ugly. And I’d rather...” When Tatiana didn’t finish but instead dissolved into another bout of sobbing, Willow continued to pat her back and wait her out.

Meanwhile, she tried to figure out why Tatiana was acting this way. Was she drunk? Had she gone without her much vaunted beauty rest for the entire night and this breakdown was because of simple exhaustion?

Or—and darker thoughts began to arise—was Prince Eric some kind of sadist? Had he—horrified, Willow swallowed hard—had he hurt Tatiana? Abused her in some way?

Finally, as Tatiana continued weeping, Willow prodded. “But?”

“I think I could fall in love with Prince Chad.”

“Huh?” Willow blinked. “Eric’s younger brother? The one our parents promised me to?”

Tatiana’s perfect, creamy skin blushed bright red. “Yes. And I’m quite certain he could love me, too, if he were given a chance.”

Skeptical, Willow crossed her arms. “And you determined this in, what, a few hours last night?”

Tatiana shook her head so vigorously her hair whipped Willow in the face. “Don’t say it like that.” Her sorrowful expression hardened. “You’ve always treated me like I was stupid. I’m not. When I see what I want, I know it. It’s as simple as that.”

Willow’s head had begun to ache. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to make sense of her sister’s words. “And you’re telling me this because you want me to do...what?”

Tatiana snapped her head up, her tears drying instantly. “Switch with me. Seduce Prince Eric. Make him want you.”

Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Switch with you? Listen to yourself. As if someone as perfect, as golden, as Bright as you’ve described would want someone like me over you.” Not to mention the outcry such a public rejection would cause. The gossip! The rumors! Tatiana would never live them down.

Which meant there had to be a catch. And because she was who she was—tigers didn’t change their stripes—Tatiana wouldn’t mention this catch until it was way too late for all involved.

In her childhood and teenage years, Willow had been down that road more times than she could count. She wouldn’t make this mistake again.

Her self-depreciating comment had pleased Tatiana. Grinning with a false modesty, she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “True, but Prince Chad has told me one something about his older brother that isn’t well known. Eric’s magic is weak, like yours. Again, I have to think of my future children.”

Since Willow’s magic was more than weak, it was nonexistent, she crossed her arms. “Prince Chad told you this why?”

“Were you not listening? I talked to them both last night. That’s how I know I can’t marry Eric. One, he’s too good-looking and two, he has inferior magic. Chad’s magic is as powerful as mine, plus he’s less beautiful than his older brother. He is much more to my liking.”

Stunned speechless, Willow considered her thoughts. Was this a simple case of Tatiana wanting whatever Willow had? No, she decided. Not possible. Especially since everyone knew Tatiana’s intended husband was every bit as beautiful as her.

“But the eldest son’s wife will be queen,” Willow said, trying another tactic.

“Of the EastWard Brights.” Tatiana shook her head. “You can have that.”

“You’d give up the throne?” This definitely meant Tatiana was up to something. Unfortunately, whatever it was wouldn’t be good for Willow.

“Only that throne,” Tatiana finally conceded. “I’d still be able to rule SouthWard once Mama and Daddy step down.”

“Which won’t be for a long time,” Willow put in.

Tatiana’s smile held a hint of darkness. “Oh, you never know. It might be sooner than you think.”

Did she plan to help things along? Willow shook her head. She didn’t really want to know. However, she’d need a mate with a lot of magical power if she planned to try and stage a coup. Which would explain her sudden desire for the younger, less handsome brother.

They were still eyeing each other when the door opened and Queen Millicent swept inside, peering at them with disapproval. “The breakfast will be in one hour and neither of you are ready? I expect this sort of behavior from Willow, but from you, Tatiana? Honestly.”

The queen had barely finished speaking when she caught sight of her first-born child’s red nose and face streaked with black. Instantly she rounded furiously on Willow.

“What have you done to your sister?” she hissed, gathering Tatiana close while her gaze shot daggers at her youngest daughter. “Today of all days she must look her absolute best and you’ve made her cry.”

Willow didn’t bother to try and form a response. She knew from experience that her mother wouldn’t believe her anyway.

Without waiting for an answer, the queen turned and shepherded Tatiana from the room. At the doorway, she paused, glaring back over her shoulder at Willow. “I’m going to take your sister and see if I can repair the damage you’ve done. As for you, get ready for the breakfast. All I ask is that you try to look decent.”

Willow nodded.

“Thank you.” Giving Tatiana’s hunched shoulders a hard squeeze, Millicent delivered the final shot. “After all, every dog will have its day. Don’t blow yours.”

“Wait, Mother.” Squirming out of the queen’s hold, Tatiana dashed over to Willow’s side. “Let me help her get ready. A little makeup will fix this.” She waved her perfectly manicured hand at her own face. “You know it’ll just take me a few minutes.”

“Fine.” Unable to refuse her eldest daughter anything, Queen Millicent nodded. “Just make sure you both are on time.” And with that, she left.

Tatiana sighed. “You don’t know what a burden it is being the eldest.”

It took every ounce of self-control Willow possessed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Try being the ugly duckling of the family.”

“No thanks.” The fact that Tatiana didn’t even bother trying to refute Willow’s words should have stung, but she supposed she was used to it.

“You have to make the best out of what you have.” Stalking over to the closet, Tatiana went through the day dresses. Finally, she pulled out one made of light blue watered silk, the sparkles interwoven into the fabric, which made them much less noticeable. The dress was dull by Bright standards, but Willow loved it. She hadn’t yet had an occasion to wear it.

“Whatever you do, don’t wear this one,” Tatiana ordered, tossing the gown on the floor as though it were garbage. “Wear something fun!”

She pulled out a hideous chiffon concoction of orange, hot pink and yellow, held it up and nodded. “This is perfect.” Tossing it at Willow, who miraculously caught it, she grinned. “See you in an hour.” Then she, too, swept from the room, slamming the door behind her.

The overpowering scent of heavy perfume lingered in the air.

Willow shook her head and tossed the frothy dress on her bed. She went to open the window and let in fresh air. Inhaling the smell of fresh pine, she gazed longingly at her beloved woods, missing the gentle creatures that lived there. They knew nothing of subterfuge and lies. They didn’t care that she didn’t look anything at all like a Bright was supposed to look. How she wished she could simply slip out of the castle unnoticed and escape to the forest.

Attempting to escape her life, that’s what she was doing. She’d done so many times already, running to the forest and lately, to the human world.

As she had when she’d danced with Prince Ruben.

The thought nearly made her smile. But, true to the way her luck seemed to go, even her one magical night was shattered by a bomb explosion. In the ensuing chaos, she’d tried to help as much as possible, escaping back to the veil at the last possible minute.

Home again. And now this. A meet-and-greet breakfast dressed in uncomfortable formal clothes. Already, the ball last night and the human prince who’d treated her as if she was beautiful felt like a dream, a fantasy.

With a heavy heart, Willow went to shower. When it came time to select something to wear, she chose the more discreetly elegant watered silk rather than the rainbow-colored chiffon. She could only imagine how Tatiana would roll her eyes when she saw that.

Willow sighed, bracing herself for the ordeal ahead. Even though she wanted no part of her sister’s secret plans, she knew she was about to walk smack-dab into the middle of them.

* * *

The next morning dawned with a leaden sky and the promise of rain whispering in the wind. The acrid scent of smoke and soot hung over everything, a constant reminder of the explosion and fire.

Heart heavy, Ruben accompanied his father, King Leo, in an inspection of the damage caused by the bomb. He’d gotten barely an hour of sleep, and most of that had been standing up when he took a quick, hot shower to cleanse the ash from his exhausted body.

The events of the previous night felt like a dream—meeting Willow, dancing and spending time with her. A promising dream that had been interrupted by a nightmare. He couldn’t believe the extremists were back. But who else would have done such a thing? Until he was given reason to think otherwise, he had to believe the extremists were behind the bombing. They always felt violence was the best way to prove a point.

Ruben didn’t understand this line of thought. Last time they’d set off bombs and had tried to harm his sister. The only thing they’d achieved had been jail sentences and widespread scorn and censure.

None of that had fazed them, he guessed. Because they’d regrouped and tried their foolish terroristic actions again. To what end? Ruben couldn’t see what they had hoped to gain by blowing up the palace. Did they even have a plan? Somehow he doubted it.

He suspected they were all crazy. What they wanted was impossible. They wanted Shape-shifters to be able to stay wolf longer than human. Even if such a thing were physically possible—which it was not—Ruben knew better than most how that could mess with one’s mind.

Pushing aside his thoughts, he walked with his father through the still smoldering rubble.

“We’re lucky no one was killed.” Grim faced, in the watery light King Leo looked older than his years. As he watched his normally jovial father shoulder the responsibility for the destruction, Ruben suppressed fury. The strong emotion stirred his wolf to instant alertness. The beast was spoiling for a fight.

He felt his father’s wolf respond in kind, which was unusual. Normally, both his parents’ beasts were sedate animals, content with their lot. Unless... Of course.

“How long has it been since you changed?” Ruben asked the king. Standing right next to each other, both their wolves could sense the other’s restlessness. As usual, at least lately, Ruben had difficulty keeping his under control. He watched as his father instantly subdued his own beast.

Ruefully, Leo smiled. “Quite a while, actually. I’ve been so busy. And now...” He spread his hands, visibly struggling with slipping control. “I don’t know when I’ll ever find the time.”

“You must,” Ruben began, stopping as he watched his father engage in a battle with his beast that felt both odd and eerily familiar. He’d encountered so many of these same battles himself recently.

The king’s inner wolf fought him, struggling to break out, to force a change. Since Ruben had never seen this happen with anyone beside himself, he watched helplessly.

“Sorry.” His father grimaced. “I’ve been fighting my wolf for a while now. I really need to make time to change.”

Ruben felt a combination of emotions. Sadness, fury and anticipation. He realized the latter was fueled by his own wolf. The animals were in sync about one thing—the urgent need to change.

A quick glance at his father made him realize the older man was having similar thoughts. “How about we go right after we finish with this?”

Ruben nodded. Sometimes it was easier—and safer—to give in.

Together they finished their inspection of the damaged area. Through it all, the sense of finality that the king wore like a cloak fascinated Ruben. He couldn’t help but compare his father’s issue to his own. Did King Leo share his son’s problems with his inner wolf, the constant battle to remain human, to maintain control, often with a high mental and physical cost? If so, Ruben wondered if that meant he wasn’t as abnormal and as isolated as he’d feared.

The potential felt enormous. Just the idea that he might not be alone in this felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He took his father’s arm, trying to frame the words properly so that he didn’t give too much away. “How long have you—”

Someone shouted for the king, cutting Ruben off before he could finish asking his question. As they hurried over, he figured maybe it was for the best. He could probably learn more by keeping his mouth shut and observing. He definitely didn’t want his father guessing that something serious might be wrong with his only son and heir.

* * *

As she quickly made up her bed, Willow saw something stuck between the pillow and the edge of the wall. Leaning in, she picked it up and froze. An earring. One of the dangly pearl earrings she’d worn last night. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. The ancient and valuable set had belonged to her mother and, as most of the queen’s jewelry did, contained magic only she could access. Willow had borrowed them without permission, intending to return them quickly, before her mother noticed. With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten about them.

One earring. Her hand shook as she cradled it in her palm. One perfect, slightly sooty, pearl earring with unknown magical powers. Oh, shades. The queen would certainly notice if the set wasn’t returned intact. She had to find the other.

Frantic, she looked. A search of her bedding revealed nothing. Ditto under the bed and on the surrounding floor. Think, Willow. Think. Since she’d obviously showered last night with the jewelry on—how could she have been so oblivious?—she checked the bathroom and the shower. Nothing.

Shadefire and double shadefire. Heart sinking, she tried to think. One of her mother’s perfect pearl earrings was missing. How long until her mother noticed? The way Willow’s luck seemed to be running, the queen would decide to wear them today. She’d fly into a rage when she couldn’t find them. And Willow knew where her mother would look first. Not to Tatiana. No, Willow would have a lot of explaining to do.

After the breakfast, she had to find the other. If it wasn’t here... Her pulse skipped a beat. She must have left it in Teslinko, at the prince’s palace, most likely somewhere in the ashy ruins of the ballroom. After the breakfast, she’d return there. That is, if she could sneak away without anyone noticing, and try to find it.

Plan made, she hurried to get ready for the breakfast, well aware her mother wouldn’t appreciate it if she was late after her conspicuous absence at the welcome reception the night before.

And she’d have to do her best to steer clear of whatever scheme her sister was concocting. She had enough trouble already. No sense in borrowing any more.

* * *

“Something is going on with my sister,” Tatiana murmured to Prince Chad. She liked him, she really did. They’d been seated next to each other at the breakfast table, Chad on her left and her betrothed, Prince Eric, on her right.

Chad’s faded violet gaze sharpened. “How so?”

Since Willow hadn’t shown up yet, and he had no idea what kind of bride their combined parents had saddled him with, she hid her smile and shook her head, sending her glorious hair swaying. “I’m not certain. I’ll watch her and see if I can get her to tell me.”

He nodded, already looking bored with the subject. As he held her left hand under the table, he’d begun drawing circles in the middle of her palm with his thumb. She shivered, unable to believe how erotic such a small touch could be.

That, plus the fact that he dared take such liberties right under the watchful eye of his brother made it doubly thrilling.

They were two of a kind, she and Prince Chad. If Willow wouldn’t play along, Tatiana would try some other scheme to switch bridegrooms.

“What are you two talking about?” Eric turned and leaned closer, his perfect white teeth flashing in a face that carried exactly the right amount of tan. Studying him, from his patrician features and bright violet eyes, to his hair the exact same shade of gold as hers, Tatiana knew on the surface that no one would understand why she didn’t want him. He was perfect, every girl’s dream of a prince. Like Prince Charming in the old stories.

In looks, he was exactly like her. Her mirror image.

Tatiana never fooled herself or tried to hide from her flaws. She was, she knew, vain and shallow and often bad tempered. The most important person in her life was, and would always be, herself. She didn’t care about others’ feelings or charity work or any kind of endeavor that might involve selfless giving. She adored luxuries, adulation and being cosseted, not necessarily in that order.

She sensed Prince Eric was the exact same way. Like her inside as well as out. She’d known instinctively an instant after meeting him. Left alone together for too long, they’d either kill each other or—and this was more likely—their relationship would eventually dissolve into icy indifference. After that, the affairs and love children and scandals and misery would swiftly follow. The stain on her reputation would be more than she could bear.

There were quick scandals—such as what would happen if she switched fiancés—and those that were soul-sucking, psyche-damaging and lasted for an eternity. Marriage to Eric would cause the latter.

Therefore, Tatiana would not marry him, regardless of what her parents had promised his. The way she figured, she had one way out, as unlikely as it might seem. Her plan was comprised of two parts. First, she had to get Prince Eric to fall in love with her younger sister.

And second, she had to make Price Chad fall in love with her.

The second part was easy. No man had ever been able to resist her once she started batting her long lashes his way. Judging from his hand-holding activity, Prince Chad would prove to be no exception.

Yet another challenge that wasn’t. Oddly disappointing, that.

Tatiana found she genuinely liked the younger prince, at least on first impression. Though also fair skinned with golden hair and about the same height, he lacked a certain symmetry of features, and was a rugged-looking man rather than a beautiful one. Personality-wise, she could already tell he was as different from his older brother as she was from her younger sister.

Plus, she suspected he worshipped her already, which in her opinion would make their union a match made in heaven. One absolute in her life was that she needed to be the worshippee rather than the worshipper.

“Would you fetch me some more coffee, my dear?” With a smarmy smile, Prince Eric tapped her on the shoulder like she was his personal maid.

Stiffening, Tatiana fought the urge to tell him to get it himself. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “We have servants for that. All you need to do is hold up your hand and signal one of the waitstaff. See, there are several standing over by the silver coffee urn.”

Instead of being mollified, he pouted. “I’d rather you get it. Such a personal gesture carries so much meaning, don’t you think?”

Right, she thought. So much meaning. In a sad little way, he was right, because if she scurried to do his bidding, she’d be setting a precedent for the rest of their lives together. That is, if she was unlucky enough to actually marry him. She simply had to finagle her way out of this.

Clenching her jaw, she kept her pretty smile in place. No, she wouldn’t be jumping up to fetch and carry for him. Not now, not ever.

Pretending to misunderstand, she tilted her head. “Of course. I’ll do it.” And she lifted her hand, signaling a servant over. “Prince Eric needs more coffee.”

Immediately, the waiter brought over a new, piping-hot cup and set it down in front of the prince.

“There you go,” Tatiana said brightly, pretending not to notice Eric’s frown as he gaped at her, apparently stunned into silence that she hadn’t jumped when he had snapped his fingers. “Next time, you’ll know what to do so you can get it yourself.”

And with that small insult, she turned back to her left, keeping her sweet and slightly dopey smile in place. She’d learned early on that her beauty tended to intimidate men. Yet if she acted less intelligent, that one flaw appeared to negate the other, at least as far as they were concerned.

While Eric stewed silently, Chad leaned closer, smiling a small, secretive smile. “Well done,” he murmured. “Most women are so busy fawning all over him. I wager he has no idea how to react to one who doesn’t.”

Pleased, Tatiana took a sip of her own coffee, now lukewarm. She wished she could say more, but she had to be careful not to overplay her hand.

Speaking of which, Prince Chad squeezed hers under the table, apparently intent on continuing his sensual thumb massage.

Enough. Aware of the dangers of acquiescing too early, she moved both her hands to the top of the table, folding one over the other and pretending to inspect her flawless manicure.

He gave a snort of laughter, which she ignored.

Casually she glanced at her watch. Where the hell was Willow? Their mother had been quite clear in letting her know that she was to attend this breakfast on time. First she’d missed the welcome reception and now this? Already she was over thirty minutes late.

A quick glance at Queen Millicent showed her mother had definitely noticed and was greatly displeased. Though she kept her face expressionless, well aware of the consequences brought on by a frown, the queen’s eyes snapped with annoyance.

About to push to her feet and fetch her sister, Tatiana breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened and Willow strolled inside. Tatiana noticed her sister had not taken her advice and had chosen to wear the blue silk dress.

Both men turned to look. Inside, Tatiana prayed Prince Eric would somehow find Willow attractive, if only because of the sharp contrast between her coloring and everyone else’s.

Apparently, the weight of everyone’s stares made Willow falter. She nearly stumbled, regaining her balance only at the last moment and flashing the group a weak smile. “Good morning, everyone,” she murmured.

Even though this dress wasn’t as flashy as what most considered fashionable and Tatiana herself wouldn’t be caught dead in it, reluctantly she approved. She had long ago noticed that Willow looked better when she wore less glitz and glam. She had no idea why that would be so—in her opinion, the more glitter the better—but it was true.

And the sky-blue color of the gown made Willow’s dusky complexion glow. She had, Tatiana noticed, even taken the time to twist her long, dark hair into a chignon. If she was feeling charitable, Tatiana might even say her sister looked...pretty. In an odd, shadowy sort of way.

To Tatiana’s right, Prince Eric puffed out his chest, believing here would be another easy conquest. To her left, Prince Chad went very, very still. As Willow approached with her father, King Puck, in order for him to make the introduction, Tatiana noticed the younger EastWard prince’s set jaw. He narrowed his eyes at the woman he’d been promised to marry. If anything, he looked furious.

Good, she thought with satisfaction. Evidently he hadn’t been told of the youngest princess’s physical shortcomings. And there was no way he could know Willow had no magic, either. Which was fine with Tatiana, since she planned to tell him herself. Once he believed himself to be doomed to marry such an ugly, non-magical woman, Prince Chad would be that much riper for the picking. He’d crumple under the massive assault she had planned.

She watched from under her lashes as his nostrils flared, obviously trying to maintain a bland expression.

She’d seen men do that before, though usually they’d been looking at her, overcome by her loveliness and trying not to show it.

All her life, Tatiana had been the beautiful one. Sought-after, cosseted, beloved eldest daughter. The world was more than her oyster—it was her pearl. And her baby sister, Willow, had proved to be the perfect foil, reflecting back Tatiana’s beauty and amplifying it by comparison.

For that, Tatiana was grateful, though she’d never expressed her gratitude to Willow. How could she, when to do so would mortally offend the younger woman?

Both of the EastWard princes watched Willow walk toward them, appearing riveted. Tatiana knew that had to be a ruse. They didn’t fool her. After all, who know better than her what men wanted?