Chapter 44
Anya Delemond
The Prince’s study was considerably cozier than the throne room, but not by much.
The fireplace looked like it hadn’t been lit in decades, and Anya swore she could hear the books shivering from the cold on the birch shelves lining the space.
A behemoth desk sat in the middle, the top auspiciously clean.
The room seemed more like a stage than a study.
Anya jumped as the door slammed shut behind her.
“Apologies, Princess. I’ve been meaning to have this door cushioned.” He lofted the great bird from its place on his forearm, and it flew over to a perch by the window. It apparently went everywhere with him.
“Not necessary, Your Highness,” she said, avoiding his gaze by looking out the window. Mountains towered in the distance, flanked by a ring of pine, then farmland, then colorful cottages and shops. A wide berth of grassy hills separated the castle from the populous.
The rug shifted as the Prince drew a step closer. “It must be hard, being in a foreign land, surrounded by your ancestors…but still a stranger, without a pack.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at his touch.
“I have a pack. My mate’s pack,” she said.
He raised a brow. “Really? Then tell me. Say I send you with the mana stones you request. Where will you go when the children are healed and the seas are calm?”
“Back to my people,” she said simply. What other choice was there?
“With that Centarian sailor?”
She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “That Centarian is my mate,” she growled.
“You plan to rope a sailor to a palace for the rest of his life? Rip him away from his pack?”
The growl disappeared in an instant. Guilt surged in her chest as the reality of the future hit her.
From the moment she and Roderick made their passionate declarations to each other, she had only thought of how they would be together.
For her life at the palace, it would be an improvement of circumstance regardless.
She would have him there to share her burdens, to keep her company and hold her in the night.
He would be giving up an adventurous life at sea under the sun and amidst the foaming waves, where every day would bring thrilling trials and every night the merriment and love of his pack.
Could a sailor ever truly be happy with an anchor like her?
The Prince beckoned her to turn around and grasped her fingers in his.
“I have a proposal for you, Anya. One that will benefit both our kingdoms.”
Her name on his tongue made her stomach twist, but she still managed to feign a confident, “I’m listening.”
“You can help your people, set your mate free, and have all the power you need to ensure Valeria’s safety…if you marry me.”
“What?” She blinked fast and retreated her hand, bringing it to her chest. “No. No. I am flattered, Your Highness, and rather surprised, but I cannot accept. As I said, I am mated already.”
His eyes widened. It was a bit curt, sure, but in all reality, one of her more tame rejections.
He took her hand more forcefully this time.
Pressing a kiss to her fingers, he looked up at her and flexed his shift to show his wolfish eyes.
“Mated is not married. Think about it. You can be a wolf here. You will have a pack here. I know your woes, Anya.”
How dare he? How dare he pretend to understand her plights? Yet he said it so confidently; the words felt violating. She wrenched her hand free, unable to repress a growl. “You don’t know me.”
“I may not, but Marguerite does.”
Her blood ran cold. “How do you know that name?”
He strolled calmly beside the bookcase, stopping as he reached the desk.
“I’ll show you. After all, what’s mine will be yours soon enough.”
He slid open a drawer, removing a leather-bound journal. Unwinding the strap, he spread dozens upon dozens of yellowing parchment letters across the desk.
“Miss Melusine has been writing to her father for years, right under my nose. It seems a few of my kelpie took a liking to him, and have been exchanging their gifts and messages for decades.” He picked a letter up and examined it.
“I was upset, at first. He was my father’s most trusted guard and spy, and he fell victim to the charms of a woman with blood so diluted she could hardly summon a single spark.
Then he came to work for me, and here he was, sending the spoils of Aquillas to his Valerian daughter.
But then I saw opportunity. His daughter was a marchioness, a dear friend of the Princess.
How could I let such intimate knowledge slip through my grasp? ”
“You pretended to be him,” Anya said, dread swirling in her gut. The Prince knew absolutely everything. While Marg thought she was confiding in her father about her life, she was unwittingly feeding information to the Winter Prince.
He abandoned the letters and strode to her, bracketing her against the bookcase.
“Sharp wit, Your Highness. So you see, I know you more deeply than you can ever imagine. Your heart bleeds for the children. I can ease their suffering. All you need to do is say yes.”
A growl roiled in her throat as she shoved him away.
He recoiled in momentary surprise at her strength.
Then, with a snap of his fingers and a shrill cry from his bird, the shifter band on her wrist grew hot.
A familiar ripple coursed through her spine.
Pressure built in her jaw, and her fingers pulsed. Fear seized her chest.
She was shifting. Her panicked eyes darted between the Prince and his bird, then—
That bird.
She knew that bird.
In a rush, she realized exactly where she’d seen it—looming upon the topmast of the Lupus Star amid the magical storm.
They were on.
“You lured me here,” she grit out. Somehow…you knew…we were coming…” With a growl, she tried to resist the shift, but the wolf overcame her and she burst forth in a blinding flash.
A yelp escaped her as a heavy paw forced her against the marble floor. She recovered her composure with roiling snarl. The Prince was the epitome of the most rakish of suitors she’d ever dealt with. Being wolves in this moment made it no less unsettling.
“My bride is a bright one,” he breathed, canine breath wafting to her nose. “I had intended to haul you in with the storm. Imagine my surprise when the only quarry I cared about was not aboard.”
Anya’s rage morphed into terror, pinning her ears back as the Prince shifted all his weight atop her. He buried his nose in the thick fur of her neck, then huffed out slow, covering her with his unwelcome scent.
She loathed the fearful whimpers that eked from her muzzle, but she couldn’t stop.
The Prince exerted some kind of energy, the way Adam Eran had.
But where Adam’s energy radiated leadership and strength, the Prince’s was brutal and paralyzing.
Her mind was back in a cage, all the while her instincts cried out for help, for her mate, for the Mother Moon to come down and smite the Prince.
But any intervention would only seal the children’s fate.
Stop, please stop, please—
The Prince jeered, “You’re sniveling like a dog. What’s wrong? Never felt the pull of a proper alpha before? I suppose not, since you claim to be mated to that fanged abomination.”
Her claws scrabbled at the marble as she tried to escape. He dug a paw between her haunches. “You need to be tamed. You and your kingdom of human hybrid mutts.”
The weight lifted from Anya’s back, and light surrounded them, and they were back on two legs. Before she could utter a word, her back met the bookcase.
“And I think I’ve found the perfect leash for the job,” he crooned, pressing harder against her, sliding his hands down her waist in a demeaning appraisal.
“Rake,” she spat. A growl roiled in her throat as she tried to twist free to no avail. She could overpower almost any human. But she had to remember that like Henrik, the Prince had no shortage of strength in this form.
“I like a wild woman,” he whispered, sending hot breath on her neck right over Roderick’s fang marks. “But if you cross the line, I’ll punish your people. And if they do, I’ll use you, their precious Princess, to pull them back.”
A bitterness made her heart twinge. She wasn’t precious. She was a pawn. She was a pawn in her parents’ hands or the Prince’s.
Then Roderick’s sweet protests slipped into her mind.
You’re so much more than that to me.
As she leaned into the reassurance it gave, she swore she could feel his breath moving in and out in tandem with hers—just for a moment, a ghost of a sensation, a spring breeze in her lungs.
It carried hope, life, love. But all the love in the world couldn’t change who she was, or what she needed to do.
“What would you expect of me?”
“Only the auspices of marriage. Rule by my side. Warm my bed. Mother my children. And in exchange, I’d say your hand is worth”—he hummed thoughtfully—“six chests full of mana stones.”
She nearly retched at the thought of sleeping with the prince, but the mention of mana stones made her freeze. Six chests. Each about two cubic feet, and each mana stone averaging half an inch…
The numbers ran through her head. A lot. The answer was a lot. At least thirty thousand stones. Enough to cure the children and replenish the emergency stores of every region twenty times over. With proper regulation, that many stones would last Valeria decades.
“And what of my kingdom?”
“If you live peacefully with me, Aquillas and Valeria will continue as they always have. And if famine or flood or invaders threaten to harm your people, I will send aid. Although…Miss Melusine’s letters did mention your fear of your replacement, Count Scorer.
But rest assured. By then, our children will be grown and have a rightful claim to both kingdoms. We’ll rid Valeria of the humans and restore our lands to their former glory. To before the glacial wall.”