Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Vaela
“We’re not in the Jewel Kingdom any longer,” I whisper under my breath when the Blood Alphas’ castle comes into view.
“No, we are not,” Garrick says, looking up at it. “I’ve seen grain silos with more decoration than this.”
It’s true. It’s not as elegant and luxurious as I’m used to, but it has its own sort of charm in a savage, brutish way.
There are no slender towers reaching elegantly into the clouds, no bright banners rippling from polished golden poles, and not a single marble statue of a naked goddess posing beside a fountain.
It’s a dark, hulking fortress crudely carved from rough stones, which are covered in old moss and creeping vines. The thick stone towers are connected by high walls lined with armed guards. I shiver when I see the brown furry back and bushy tail of a wolf prowling behind the crenellations.
Everyone we pass stops and stares at us in shock as we roll into the courtyard, passing under the dark red banners hanging from the battlements, each marked with the black head of a snarling wolf.
“Garrick,” I whisper as the Varkharian guards take control of the horses, guiding them toward the large doors on the far side of the courtyard. “I’m going to be okay, right?”
He smiles sadly at me. “Princess, I’ve never seen you in any situation you couldn’t handle. Keep your wits about you, don’t lose that indomitable spirit Aurevale loves so much, and you will be just fine.”
I hope he’s right.
But this place is no Aurevale.
I hold my breath and stare in shock as a woman suddenly drops onto all fours and explodes into a large brown wolf. She shakes out her fur, sniffs the air, and races out of the castle.
“Did you see that?” I ask, turning to catch another glimpse of her. She is gone and most shockingly of all, not one other person in the bustling courtyard seemed to notice or care that this woman just turned into a wolf.
Loud trumpets sound out as the kings’ men step out of the huge wooden doors.
More people gather in the cramped courtyard as they approach. I even spot several wolves prowling around with their heads lowered, staying to the back of the crowd.
Is that how it is here? Do wolves just mingle along with everyone else?
This place is not like the courtyard at home with all of the fancy dresses and gentlemen in jeweled gloves and embroidered coats. I don’t see one scrap of silk in this entire lot.
“I’ll present you,” Garrick says, opening our covered carriage.
“No! Wait!” I reach out to grab him, but he slips out and stands on the raised step.
“Coming to you from Aurevale!” he shouts loud enough for the entire kingdom to hear. “The exquisite and graceful, Princess Vaela Valecourt.”
Here goes nothing…
I step out of the carriage and stand on the step, waving to the crowd.
No one bows when they see me.
No one cheers.
Pure silence.
They just stare with the most unimpressed faces I have ever seen.
I suddenly feel very overdressed in my pink dress, golden ribbons, and carefully curled hair.
One filthy little boy points at me. “Is that the hostage?”
His mother grabs his arm and pulls him away. “Hush.”
“Is it true she sleeps on a bed made of jewels?”
“I said hush.”
I feel woozy as I cling to the carriage, wishing I was anywhere but here. Why couldn’t my grandfather have fixed that dreaded wall? Then, I wouldn’t have to be in this predicament. He could have sent Aunt Petunia to be held hostage by these savage wolves. Nobody liked her anyway.
The man at the head of the trumpeters comes forward, shaking Garrick’s hand. “I am Oren, coinmaster of Varkhar.”
He is the coinmaster? Him? He is dressed like a peasant with ripped, tattered clothes. The coinmaster of Aurevale has a silk cloak stitched with over one hundred rubies. The washing rags in the kitchen look better than the outfit of this coinmaster. Unbelievable.
The man walks straight past me without so much as a glance.
I am quickly beginning to understand that princesses are not nearly as impressive here as they are in Aurevale.
“Three wagons?” Oren asks.
“Three wagons,” Garrick confirms.
“Where is the gold?”
My head is spinning as Garrick throws off the canvas, revealing chests and barrels of precious gems and gold coins.
“This is stamped Aurevalian coin?” Oren asks, inspecting the chests.
“Of course.”
“And where are the jewels?”
“In all three.”
I’m still standing on the step of the carriage, higher than everyone else.
A few people are still looking at me, but most of the others are more interested in the glittering gold and jewels in the wagons.
I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that these people have never seen a real gem in their entire lives.
“Nothing leaves the courtyard until it has been counted, weighed, and recorded,” Oren says to his men who start unloading the chests.
I step down onto the uneven stone, suddenly wishing I was wearing my riding boots instead of these pink silk slippers. They’ll be ruined before I step into the castle. Mother would be horrified.
“Oren,” Garrick says when the coinmaster is satisfied that all of the agreed-upon riches are present and accounted for. “Allow me to introduce you to Princess Vaela.”
He looks me up and down dismissively. “You will get your own room. Three meals a day.”
“If it’s not too much to ask, I would like a feather bed with silk sheets,” I say.
He scoffs rudely. “It’s too much to ask. You will get a straw mattress like everyone else.”
My mouth drops. “Straw?”
His eyebrow raises as his mouth curls up in delight.
“But I will have my own bathing room with a tub, right?”
I can tell from the way he’s grinning that I won’t like the answer.
“You will bathe in the Blood River like everyone else.”
I nearly faint. The river? With everyone else? He can’t be serious…
My stomach drops as I turn to Garrick.
“Garrick…” I whisper. “Please…”
He steps forward and swallows me in his big comforting arms. “You’ll be okay, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ve never met anyone as strong and spirited as you.”
“Are you leaving?” I ask, feeling panic taking over. “Already?”
He looks sad to see me go with his lowered shoulders and downturned face. “I’m afraid so, Princess. It’s been my honor looking after you all these years.”
He drops to his knee and bows to me one last time. As soon as he stands, I leap on him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug I never want to release.
“Be strong,” Garrick whispers, peeling my arms off him. “Make your parents proud. Make Aurevale proud.”
I fight back tears and stand up straight, nodding to the man who’s kept me safe my entire life. “I will.”
He nods sadly and gets back to the wagons as Oren guides me to the large doors.
The wolf guards are unloading the chests full of my possessions, and being unnecessarily rough with them. I bite my tongue when I see one ruffian toss my chest of dresses onto the ground. A young boy leads my horse away. I hope it’s toward the stables and not toward the kitchen.
My sadness and panic turn to impatience and anger. I’m suddenly realizing how bad my situation is and I’m not happy about it.
“Do the Kings of Varkhar not present themselves when a royal arrives?” I ask, barely able to hide the venom in my tone as we walk. What kind of manners do these barbarians have?
“Excuse me, Princess,” Oren says with an overly friendly smile, which I’m picking up as sarcasm. “They are very busy protecting our kingdom, and yours, from the Hollowborn.”
“Of course,” I say, swallowing my pride and indignation. “Perhaps I shall meet them later.”
“Perhaps,” he says, guiding the way.
I feel eyes on me from above and that’s when I see them standing on the platform up high.
The Blood Alphas.
The Kings of Varkhar.
I shiver when I feel their strong gaze bearing down on me. My feet stop moving. My entire body goes still as I stare up at them in awe.
I have spent the whole journey imagining the Blood Alphas.
I pictured elderly tyrants with rotting teeth and greasy beards.
Then I pictured cruel warriors covered in scars, bones, and the blood of their enemies.
Once, when I briefly allowed myself to be optimistic, I imagined that perhaps they might be reasonably pleasant to look at.
I was not prepared for this.
The king on the left is tall and broad, although not nearly as enormous as the man beside him.
His thick black hair is pushed back from a handsome face sharpened by high cheekbones and a strong jaw covered with a neatly trimmed beard.
He wears a fitted black tunic embroidered with dark silver thread, leather pants, and a golden crown tilted on his beautiful head.
His dark heated eyes are locked on me. Goosebumps rise on my skin when I feel the sizzling intensity of that gaze.
That must be King Cassius.
I’ve heard he’s the smartest man in the kingdom. A true strategic genius.
He has the kind of confident ease of a man who knows he owns everything his eyes touch.
Including me.
I swallow hard as I look at the larger man on the right.
King Tovik.
He is the largest man I have ever seen.
Perhaps the largest man who has ever lived.
His shoulders look wide enough to block the castle gates. He looks scary enough to send the Hollowborn fleeing with only a stern glare. He is a force.
Blood and mud streak his thick, muscled torso. His black hair is hanging loose around his hard, unshaven face.
He looks terrifyingly powerful, and for some reason, I can’t take my eyes off him. A pale scar cuts through one thick eyebrow.
While Cassius looks at me with heated lust, Tovik is watching me with pure awe in those dark eyes.
The Kings of Varkhar.
The Blood Alphas.
My new captors.
They are beautiful beyond belief in their own savage way. My heart jumps. A deep sensual throbbing spreads between my legs as I watch them watching me.
“Princess,” Oren says in that sarcastic tone. “I have jewels to count. If you please, or perhaps you are waiting for a carpet of rose petals to be laid below your feet?”
I grit my teeth, giving him a sharp glare as I march forward, my hands squeezed into fists.
Garrick is already guiding my carriage and the empty wagons out of the castle. Perhaps, I’ll see him next season when he returns with another payment.
Or, maybe these savages will have me for dinner and I’ll never see anyone again.
Either way, I have no choice.
I have to make the best of it.
With a heavy breath, I follow Oren into the castle, ready to see my new home.
But as I walk through the dark halls, I’m not dreading the straw mattress or bathing in the river. I’m not missing my parents or all of my friends back home.
I’m thinking of those two alluring men and the captivating way they were watching me.
Watching me like I’m not just their hostage.
They were watching me like I was theirs.
Like they owned me.
Those possessive gazes make me shiver again.
My pulse races.
Why were they looking at me like that?
And why did I like it?
But most importantly, why do I want more?