Kier
"You looked more jovial at your father's funeral," Randale says, handing me a brimming wine glass. "Here."
I bring the glass to my lips, watching the maidens dancing at the centre of the room, their white sleeves floating about them with fluid grace. Younger unmated males watch with wide gazes, entranced.
"Mother outdid herself," I murmur and toss back the liquor. It burns as it settles down my throat. Mother’s hazel eyes catch mine and she subtly inclines her head towards the entrance. I look away, ignoring the silent request. I’m no sooner interested in this union as I am in its consummation, but yes. I should walk to the entrance and await my bride with utmost anticipation. And when she finally graces the hall, I should take her hand, lower my head and kiss it, declaring to all that I will only bow before one being—my Luna.
I take Randale’s glass and empty it out, shutting my eyes as I feel the liquor work its effect. Maybe I’ll kiss her feet too, if I’m drunk enough.
"It has worked its purpose. We all needed the distraction," Randale says, his eyes darkening with grief.
The past week has been a different kind of hell. I should have known better. Reaching out to King Harmon had been a grave mistake, one I am paying for dearly.
After getting a rather depressing report on a rogue attack that had hit the human lands, I had taken it upon myself to offer refuge, refusing to follow in the same footsteps my father had. In good faith, King Hamon sent his daughter, Fiona, who also happened to be his emissary, and somehow, the rogues had gotten that information. Her carriage and the men I’d sent to escort her from Oakshire were attacked en route. My men returned barely alive, but the princess and her entourage weren’t so lucky.
I rode to Ashbourne, the mortal kingdom, with her remains and was met with brute force. Wolves and humans, armed to the teeth with weapons laced with wolfsbane, and they aimed for the kill. I thought dealing with Atticus had been hard, but having King Hamon joining hands with Atticus was the beginning of a nightmare. Atticus has him eating out of his hands, making him believe I’d earned his trust, only to betray him. He believes I had his daughter killed and I am a tyrant like my father.
It’s not hard to give into the thought. An apple doesn’t fall very far from its tree, after all.
My messages to properly explain the situation ceased when the body of my messenger was returned to me in the same fashion that Princess Fiona’s was returned to her father. The same precise cuts. The same deathly blow that killed her.
The attacks began the next day, and I’ve spent my nights the past week evacuating and rebuilding, tending to the injured and training my men. Mother thought an outlandish ceremony would be a pleasant distraction from all of the horrors we’ve faced. So far, it seems to be working just fine. I hear laughter for the first time in days. Children are running around, flowers in their hands and hair. Colors burst in my vision, reminding me that there are other colors than the crimson of blood.
Like white, the color of lilies. Or violet, the color of Jessamine’s eyes.
Randale grabs my shoulder, jarring me from those thoughts and he pats down gently. “It wasn’t your fault, Kier.”
I shrug him off. “I never did say it was.”
My fingers rise to a tray and I snatch the drink off it. Randale eyes me warily. “Go easy on the wine, Kier.”
A small smile blooms on my lips. “I’m only taking your advice.” I glance around. “Where’s Lloyd? He doesn’t nag me as much as you do.”
“You sent him away to Eldora, remember?”
Right. I shake my head, the first signs of dizziness slipping in. I toss the glass aside and someone yelps as it shatters by their feet. Silence falls and I stroll up the dais, heavy feet thudding against the ground. Mother’s eyes narrow with disapproval and I settle on my seat, her voice flits up to me, “You could at least try to look happy about it.”
I grin. “Why don’t you mate with her instead? Your odd tendencies might swing that way too.”
She stiffens, her eyes darting left and right, checking if anyone was close enough to pick up on that. “You will watch your tongue when you speak to me, Kier.” Her nostrils flare and she leans in. “You’re drunk.”
“Mother, mother,” I say, propping my head against my clenched fist. “What do I do with you?”
She watches me sharply for a moment, her eyes darkening when she comes to the realization that I know. Hard, terrible decisions. I must make them. I have her being watched, and somehow, she still got the message across to Atticus about Fiona’s visit. She’s ruined everything, yet, I cannot, for the life of me, rip her heart out like I’ve thought of doing for the past few days.
What could be more important to a mother than her child’s life? What could be more important to a Luna than her pack? What could be so important that pushes her to sell us out and ruin all I’ve worked for?
And more importantly, how does a son sentence his mother to death by the executioner’s blade?
She starts to speak to me, but pleased gasps suddenly fill the air, drawing my attention to the double doors and the woman walking through. My body freezes. That dress…It’s the same one Jessamine wore at the ball. I’m on my feet before I even realize it, and my chest tightens with need as Moira clears the steps, her father holding her arm, leading her up to me.
My focus zeroes in on Moira and she smiles, her brilliant blue eyes glittering with joy. For a moment, I give in to the alcohol and let myself see what I need to. Glossy black hair changes to a silvery blonde, blue eyes tun violet, thin lips stretch into the sensual full mouth that tortures me every night in my sleep, and they spread into a mocking grin. Her skin is dusted with gold and it almost looks surreal as she approaches, the red dress pooling behind her.
She walks up the dais alone, stretching her fingers out to me. I take them, smiling, and I lower my lips to her knuckles, brushing her skin gently. The scent of roses slams into me like a brick wall and I force the crushing weight away, eager to remain in the moment where it is Jessamine with me and not Moira.
Violet eyes spark with mirth as my gaze lifts to hers once more. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
My thumb brushes over her pulse point. “Why, you look stunning, little witch.”
She giggles, like I imagined she would and soft fingers grasp mine tightly. “Shall we?”
I don’t hesitate, and it isn’t until I place the crown atop her brow and bring my lips to hers to complete the ceremony that the illusion shatters.
********
Jessamine
“If you listen with more than your ears, you can feel it. It is made from the same source. The Sun Goddess’s light flows through each of us, filling us with life, love and strength. Feel the center of it. Ground yourself. Drown out the world and reach within you. It’s right there, at the core of your being—”
I throw the dumbbell aside. “This clearly isn’t working, Glenda.”
The woman’s wide nose flares and she snatches her robe from the bench. “Maybe it would if you even tried to concentrate. Even children can feel the well of strength in which their wolves reside. You’re an anomaly. Worse than an infant!”
I straighten my legs and pull on my tunic. “We’re done here.”
“Princess—”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I yell and something stirs in the air. Glenda’s teal eyes widen and she pales. “Oh, for goodness sake,” I mutter under my breath as I storm out of the gallery. We’ve tried every room in the castle. Every hall that could help make me comfortable enough. Still, I can’t seem to reach my wolf. On some days, I feel a tug and hear that mischievous laughter in my head, but that’s about it.
Today, it feels different. I can’t think or concentrate without the images of Kier and Moira’s mating ceremony breaching into my thoughts. It’s today, and my entire being is strung up tight. I need to hit someone. Too bad the only face that comes to mind is Kier’s.
Glenda lowers her eyes to the ground. “I apologize, Jessamine. Perhaps, a briefing would suffice today. We may continue with—”
“Pass,” I flat-out say and lift my equipment bag off the floor, throwing it across my back as I make my way to the door. Az joins me, following at a safe distance from me. We barely talk but he’s done a great job at shadowing me and catching every time I try to run from the castle.
I break into a sprint, covering the distance across the halls in record time. I feel the storm brewing within me, and I need to be alone before I unleash it. I crash into courtiers I remember from a few revelries I have been forced to attend, and I murmur an apology without stopping.
I reach my room, shutting the door behind me, and my body goes rigid when I find Darrock laying on my couch, snacking on my biscuits. I haven’t seen him days. More like I’ve been avoiding him since that kiss, and since everyone seems to think he’s going to propose a union to me soon.
“Get out of my room. I’m not receiving visitors today,” I order, throwing my bag at him. He ducks smoothly, catching it by its straps. He rises, hanging it off the wall, and he turns to me. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Oh, what gave me away?” I ask dryly, pulling my gear off.
“The ceremony was a success.”
My fingers pause on my hairband and tremble a little. “I don’t care.”
“Hmm.”
I glare at him. “I don’t.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Of course.”
The mass of my hair tumbles down my shoulder and I brush my fingers through, gripping the roots tightly enough to hurt. My chest heaves and my eyes burn with unshed tears. Maybe a small part of me hoped he wouldn’t go through with it, but I should have known better than to hope. He could never choose me. “Could you—"
Fingers suddenly brush my cheek and Darrock peers down at me, his thumb wiping the under of my eyes. “Why do you weep for him, Violet? How am I to save face if you keep hurting my ego like this?”
“This is not about you.” My voice is a weak whisper.
His thumb caresses my cheek. “But it is. We’re to be wedded in three months.”
I bristle with indignation, yanking his hand from my face. “I never gave consent to any such union.”
“I saved you and brought you home. A favor was due and I called it.”
I walk forward, invading his space. “There will be no wedding, and I’m getting tired of your antics. Tired of being told what I can and cannot do, where I can and cannot go. The King doesn’t make decisions for me and I will not have you impose your twisted desires on me. Force me and I swear I’ll leave!”
“Where to?” he retorts. “You would run back to the man who’s currently fucking his new bride? Have some dignity, princess. Your pining is becoming utterly shameful.”
The room shakes, and I know the emotions and anger I keep at bay are on the brink of breaking free. “You’re one to speak of dignity, wagging your tail around me like a demon in heat. I’ve faced worse than your stupid taunts and attitude. Look in the mirror, dignified prick, because you have no winning awards in that department.”
He snarls, grabbing my collar and raising me up so that his nose is a few inches away from mine. “You talk big and think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
I try prying his hands off my clothes, but his grip is iron-like. “Clever enough to see through your facade, moron; the stupid masks for your insecurities. You play the part of the big, bad Alpha, but deep down, you’re nothing more than a scared little soul clinging to whatever power he can grasp. You think I don’t know that mating with me is the only way you become king? So yes, I’ll have Kier’s rejections any day over your pathetic ass."
I expect him to yell, or even hit me. But he smiles slyly and sets me down on my feet. “No point in arguing when its already sealed. I am on your side, don’t you see that?”
“Sorry, Dignity. I’ve got trust issues.”
He lets out a deep breath. “I’ll give you time to grieve your…” He pukes the last word. “Love. Two days at best, after which we will begin planning our engagement.” His crimson gaze is unwavering. “This union will benefit us both. I want the throne and you wish to be free. I can give you that.”
“Not happening.”
“Not even to get back at him?”
My ears perk up at that, but I stomp down on my interest. “I’d sooner kiss the sharp end of a dagger.”
His eyes automatically flick to my mouth and when he lunges forward to kiss me, I’m ready, seeing his movements in a rather slow motion. I twist, connecting my fist with his jaw and he sails across the room, crashing into a wall outside. I saunter over to the door and shoot him a wide grin as I hurl the door shut and slide the locks into place.
Shrugging out of my clothes, I slip into the bathroom. I’ve been putting it off, and he has been too, but it's about damn time the king and I had ‘the’ conversation.