Grae opened his mouth to speak as his three guards stumbled into the entryway, Briar two steps behind. At the sound of their drunken arrival, I dropped Grae’s hand and retreated a step on instinct. To the others, I was Briar’s guard and nothing more. There would be a lot of questions if they caught me holding hands with the princess’s betrothed. I wished the floor would swallow me whole. What in the world was I thinking?
I raised the back of my cool hand to my burning cheek, trying to snap myself out of this magical spell. I blamed the wine.
“Come on,” Maez said, sweeping her arms as if herding sheep. “To bed with you lot. We’ve got to wake up in only a few hours.”
Briar reached my side and looped her arm through mine, swaying on tipsy legs as she dragged me up the stairs. I looked back at Grae, who tracked my every step under heavy brows. Whatever he had to say would have to wait. I curled my fingers into my palm, remembering the feeling of his rough grip on my own. The sensation burned into my mind. Gods curse me. Did Grae hold hands and rumble whispered promises to all his friends? I couldn’t allow myself to answer that. Either way, it would only hurt me.
The pull of the waxing moon begged for my Wolf. The silvery light kissed my skin from where I stood between the gauzy curtains. I was so ready to shed my chemise and shift, to run through the midnight trees. That would make me feel steady again, instead of the jittery mess who couldn’t get the feeling of Grae’s hand out of my head. But my fur in the wind and my paws on the earth would have to wait one more night. We were leaving for Highwick in the morning and I couldn’t go gallivanting off into the forest.
The Moon Goddess smiled down on me from the twinkling stars as I promised her, “tomorrow.” I was so close to the end of this—a pacing wildcat ready to be unleashed. Twenty years of waiting would come to an end. I’d finally have a pack and new forests to explore.
The latch on my door clicked, and I whirled to find Briar shutting the door behind her. On bare feet, she padded toward my bed and slipped into the sheets.
She grinned at me. “The moon is too bright and I’m too excited.”
With an exaggerated sigh, I walked to the bed. “Shove over.”
“Thank you,” Briar whispered, shuffling to the side.
I turned to look into my sister’s large blue eyes. “Will you still be climbing into my bed when you’re the princess of Damrienn?”
Lifting her chin with a smug smile, she said, “Possibly.”
I huffed. A sudden painful thought swept into my mind: Would she be sharing a bed with Grae? My stomach tumbled. They’d be sharing a lot more than a bed. That’s what these marriages were for, not only alliances and land treaties, but siring future Kings. Bile burned the back of my throat. I knew this day would come, I told myself. It was the price of being part of a pack; traditions must be upheld, sacrifices made, but in exchange we’d finally have a family.
It didn’t mean I liked it, though.
“You should be sleeping,” a warm voice called from the corner.
Vellia appeared, a rocking chair with her. She glided back and forth, smiling at us. Our whole life she appeared the same: a warm lined face and silver hair, but the lines never deepened, and the strands never whitened more than their grayish hue. She seemed stuck at the age she was when she granted our mother’s dying wish. I wondered if tomorrow she’d age again.
“We can’t sleep,” Briar grumbled, just as she had when we were children. “Tell us the story.”
Vellia chuckled at us—her two grown wards. “It has been many years since you’ve asked for a bedtime story.”
“Not just any story,” Briar corrected. “The story.”
Our story.
Vellia’s eyes crinkled as she bowed her head in acquiescence. “All right,” she said in her hushed voice. “Seeing as it’s the last story I will tell you.”
Sorrow stabbed through me at that confession. I knew Vellia would leave us and we’d journey to the capital alone—it was always to be that way. Even so, a life without her felt unfathomable.
“It was a beautiful summer’s night,” she began, as she always did. “Queen Rose Marriel’s belly was as swollen as the full moon. The night of her babe’s birth had arrived. As the Queen labored, the King called forth the rulers of every Wolf kingdom to celebrate the birth of his heir. The Silver, Onyx, and Ice Wolves all came, and just before the clock struck midnight, a beautiful baby was born. The castle celebrated, their cheers heard throughout the entire kingdom. This child was a manifestation of the greatest love the world had ever known.”
Every child in Aotreas knew my parents’ love story—of how Sawyn cursed my mother to a deep sleep and locked her in the tallest tower in her keep. But my father had found her, and his kiss had broken the spell. The Sleeping Queen. The story was told in every corner of the continent—a cheerful story of true love conquering dark magic. That’s where the songs and poems ended. But life, as it always does, carried on. I nestled my head into my pillow and watched Vellia’s rocking falter, just as it did every time she told the tale of our birth.
“But on the twelfth tolling of the bells, as the new princess took her first breaths, the sorceress Sawyn appeared.” Briar gasped in faux surprise. “Sawyn snuffed out every candle until only her eerie dark magic glowed from her haunted eyes. She stormed up to the King, demanding he bow to her power. King Sameir looked her dead in the eyes and said, ‘You will never be queen.’”
I mouthed my father’s damning words along with Briar. My sister thought our father’s condemnation was brave, but I thought it was pure arrogance. He sneered in the face of a powerful sorceress, and look what happened. Whether it was bravery or arrogance, my father’s words were his death sentence.
“Sawyn struck down King Sameir with a bolt of her power. She pointed a crooked finger to the circle of onlookers and professed, ‘The line of Marriel ends tonight. Now, bow down to the Queen of Olmdere.’ One by one she knocked down every Gold Wolf who sprung to the King’s aid. And so the other rulers fell to their knees, groveling for salvation from the sorceress’s wrath.”
“Cowards,” Briar muttered.
I snorted. Cowards, perhaps, but survivors, too. They all still had crowns on their heads, and we didn’t even know if our parents received a burial, let alone the rest of the Gold Wolf pack who died protecting them. I wondered what would’ve happened if they had all attacked. Would it have been enough to overtake Sawyn? Her magic couldn’t hold them all at bay . . . could it?
“After all those many years, Sawyn finally got what she had always wanted,” Vellia said. “To be queen.”