*Isaac*
Lorena sits in a wing-backed armchair in the formal sitting room off the front garden. Her golden hair falls over her shoulders in soft curls.
Her eyes haven’t left mine for the past hour, and to be honest, I find myself growing more and more uncomfortable in her presence.
This isn’t good.
She’s my top contender at this point, a week after out initial meeting. Her father, an Alpha, is a great man. Kind, loyal, intelligent. An ally I am lucky to have.
I know that his loyalty to the crown isn’t contingent on whether or not I choose Lorena as my wife and Luna based on a prior conversation I had with the man.
Thank the Goddess.
It’s not that I’m not attracted to her. It’s not that I can’t see her potential.
It’s her voice–and the words that leave her lips when her guard is down. I can sense a bit of a mean streak, and the way her eyes narrow on the female maids that work at my home make me wonder if she’d rule this house like a dictator, her intentions cruel and that cruelty for her own entertainment.
“I’d like to have at least three children, all boys, of course,” she says after a few minutes of awkward silence. “But I will require nannies. I don’t want childrearing to get in the way of my duties as Luna, of course.”
“Of course,” I reply dryly. She’s said that phrase a thousand times. For an hour, she’s spoken only of her social accomplishments–her aptitude for hosting parties, her extensive experience doting on her father’s visitors. I know nothing about her otherwise. “Do you like to read?”
Lorena blinks at me. “Read?”
“Yes. Or… music?”
“I like fashion magazines,” she says with a smile. “I like to stay up-to-date with my wardrobe.”
“Wonderful,” I say as gently as possible. My eyes slide from her face to the clock on the far wall above her head. When I see it’s time for her to go, I feel relieved. “Well, thank you for coming.” I rise from my chair and walk toward the door, opening it wide for her. Lorena curtsies low before walking out of the room, one of my maids trailing her toward the front foyer.
“You can’t be serious, Isaac.”
I turn toward Ella’s voice, finding her standing at the foot of the staircase. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a Wellington University crewneck sweatshirt, the deep red color bringing out her sea-green eyes.
“I didn’t know you were home.” A sense of peace rushes over me as Ella hops down the stairs and folds her arms over her chest.
“I ran out of paint, and Aunt Poppy’s solution was to have me crush seashells for hours on end to make my own.” Ella examines her nails and eyes me skeptically until we hear the front door firmly shut. “Why is Princess Lorena of Windsong Gorge meeting privately with you?”
“I am going to propose to her–”
Ella scoffs, then breaks out in a sharp laugh that echoes through the foyer. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I didn’t think you were actually going to go through with this!”
“You know better than anyone the situation our kingdom is in.”
“So you’ll marry that box-blonde twit and live a life of misery in her company?” Ella rolled her eyes as she walked past me and into the throne room, ignoring the maids who are steaming the curtains.
“She is the most accomplished–”
“She is a bitch.” My little sister flops down onto my throne, crossing her legs. “It’s a no from me.”
I can’t help but chuckle as I tuck my hands in my pockets and walk toward her. “This isn’t up to you.”
“I went to Wellington with her, Isaac. She was in my graduating class. She is the worst kind of woman. Manipulative. Vindictive. Snotty and… rude. She has a real chip on her shoulder, and I know for a fact she will do nothing but make your life miserable and bully everyone in this house.”
“I need a wife. I need a Luna on that throne right there to oversee my kingdom when I am away at war, which is coming soon. I don’t have time to continue looking for one.”
“You act like you’re picking out a new pair of shoes.”
“It’s rather similar.” I shrug.
Ella stands with a huff and walks to the windows overlooking the gardens. Behind us, the maids have moved on, sensing we need the room. Ella and I have always been close, but our fights are legendary in the castle, especially for those in my employment who have been with us since we were children. I’m on thin ice with Ella, I can feel it. She hates this as much as I do, but what choice do I have?
“You could just tell the Alphas they’re required to bring their forces to you. You’re the Alpha King; your title supersedes their feelings.”
“If it were that easy, Dad would have done that years ago. I can’t have another civil war on my hands, not now that King Kane is edging closer to Moorn.”
“Has there been news?” Ella looks up at me with concern in her eyes.
I lick my lips and focus on the frosted landscape outside the window. “A camp has been erected roughly fifty miles from Moorn. Two villages in the near vicinity have burned to the ground in the past two weeks. Everything points to Kane.” I look down at my sister. “War is coming, Ella.”
“Dad and Uncle Antony were talking about it,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Antony is under the impression it’s not a sound threat, but Dad’s on edge.”
“I’ve been keeping him updated.”
“But not about your plans here?”
The last thing I want to do is tell my parents I’m marrying out of necessity.
“No. And it will stay that way until the marriage is finalized.”
“You’re an idiot,” she hisses under her breath. “You’ll break Mom’s heart.”
“I’m doing this to protect everyone.”
“You’re punishing yourself for thinking you're incapable of feeling the mate bond.”
Her words strike me in the chest. I’ve only ever shared that with her. I’m sure our mother assumes. As powerful as she is, even she hasn’t been able to unravel my own abilities and the consequences that come with such power.
Ella rubs the pendant hanging around her neck between her thumb and forefinger as she turns her attention to the window. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t wear it. It’s nothing special, just a thin gold chain and a gold circle inlaid with strange symbols. It’s a gift a woman named Mystica left for her before Ella was even born.
“Promise me you won’t marry Lorena.”
I sigh heavily. She nudges my arm with her shoulder.
“I’m serious. Anyone but her.”
“I can’t make promises right now, Ella. Not when a threat is on our doorstep.”
A flash of green catches our eyes out the window.
“What was that? Was that a–a woman running by?” Ella hurries to the other side of the room to look out another set of ceiling height windows. “Isaac, come look!”
I come up behind her as a woman dressed in an emerald green gown darts around the corner of the castle, her red hair falling loose from what looks to be an intrigue braid once secured to the back of her head. Three guards are chasing her, but she runs out of sight into the back garden.
“What the fuck?” I run to another window, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman, but she has disappeared behind a neat row of hedges.
“Who was that?”
“I have no idea. Stay here.” I rush out of the throne room and down one of the long, twisting hallways that leads to the back veranda.
* * *
*Maddy*
“The king is not expecting any guests this evening,” the guard said, looking me up and down.
I opened my mouth, racking my brain for anything to say to him that he could understand. His stance and expression told me everything I needed to know.
Reginald hadn’t been instructed to bring me here for an interview. He’d lied, knowing I’d fail, or thinking the king would take pity on me and give me an opportunity to try to woo him.
I’m not sure what Reginald thinks he’ll gain from this. Maybe money, maybe fame and glory.
It doesn't matter to me. I’m not going back through that gate to the car waiting for me roughly a quarter mile away. Hell no.
So… I looked around, ignoring the guard when he repeated his words to me, words I barely understood.
And then, I’d bolted, my feeting flying across crunchy, frost covered grass. My lungs are beginning to burn in my chest, and I’ve only made it a few steps, guards on my heels. But what choice did I have?
Maybe I underestimated the conditions I’d face. While my homeland is so far north it’s almost always covered in snow and ice.Crescent Falls should be warm and inviting in the spring.
Apparently, this is an uncommonly cold spring, and in seconds my fabric shoes are soaking wet, and my toes erupt in a pins and needles sensation that sends ripples of cold agony ripping up my legs.
“Hey!” Someone shouts, and a quick glance behind me alerts me that there are three guards rushing toward me as I sprint across the front gardens and take a sharp turn around the castle.
My dress snags on the hedges, but I yank it free and continue to run until I reach a little gate leading into an expertly manicured back garden that seems to go on for miles.
Dashing through the gate. I continue to sprint. My feet slip and slide over stone pavers that are placed in a winding path. I look around for a place to hide, at least until the guards move on and I can continue my journey to the far walls cutting off the castle from the forest that swells beyond.
I spot a shed, the door slightly ajar, and launch myself inside of it before the guards have even reached the gate.
I don’t dare close the door for fear they’ll notice. I back myself against a row of shelves full of garden supplies and hold my breath. My toes curl against my half-frozen slippers as I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
The guards are shouting back and forth, their voices full of irritation. But soon their voices fade, and I slowly peek my head around the door of the shed and look out before stepping onto the path.
There’s enough of a breeze to rustle my skirts and send a sharp, chilled ache over my skin. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I know it isn’t. I’ll freeze to death in the woods before I find safety and freedom.
A cold death is better than dying at the hands of Reginald’s men after being passed around like a toy.
“Who are you?”
I freeze, a lick of terror shooting down my spine as I slowly turn to face the voice.
King Isaac stands only a few feet away, dressed casually in black slacks and a gray button down shirt, rolled at the cuffs.
His hair is a lighter brown in the sunlight, and his blue eyes sparkle like smooth sapphires. I’m momentarily struck by his handsomeness, all rational thoughts leaving my mind as I take in his perfect nose, chiseled face, and high cheekbones.
Scruffy facial hair coats his jaw, like he hasn’t bothered to shave today.
“Who are you?” he asks again, stepping toward me. “You came here the other day. I remember you.”
I can’t–I don’t understand what he’s saying. I should run. I should turn and take off again.
“Je ne sais pas.” I choke on the words in my own language. I shouldn’t have spoken. I’m supposed to be here to woo him for whatever reason. “Je ne sais pais.” I don’t know.
He arches a brow, looking me up and down before extending his hand. His voice is rich and warm as he speaks, but the words are cloudy and unfamiliar in my mind.
Our fingers almost touch, but I curl my hand into a fist and back away from him–just a step. Enough to give me a moment’s head start.
Then, I turn and run as fast as I can toward the garden wall.
I don’t get far before his arms come around my waist, and he hauls me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.