Wolfkissed

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ROSAMUND

There is an unusual commotion at the heart of the manor.

Della, my lady in attendance, glances up from her painstaking work of brushing out my dark hair, alarm written all over her thin features. “The men are back.”

“The hunting party is back.” Pursing my lips, I gesture for her to continue. My oval mirror shows my reflection, but I avoid it as much as I can, preferring to gaze down at the dark pleats of my long gown.

“Do you think they might have caught anything big?” Della asks, separating my hair into parts and grabbing the hairpins. “A boar, or a deer?”

“From the sounds of it,” I mutter, aware of the cheering and yelling echoing through the manor, “I’d say yes.”

“They were talking about going into forbidden territory.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Dark fae territory. Because the bounty there is more plentiful.”

“Men are idiots.” I instinctively lift a hand to make sure the stiff, high collar of my gown is buttoned up to my neck. There will be many people at the banquet today, and I don’t want anyone staring—well, no more than the usual amount.

“They said they’d go into the werewolf kingdom, up on the mountain slopes.”

“Good Gods above and below.” I do my best to suppress a shudder. “That’s beyond idiotic.”

Della sucks in a sharp breath. Her hands go still on my head. “Apologies, my lady. I hadn’t meant to remind—”

I slice my hand through the air to silence her. “Never mind that. Better hurry up with my hair.”

Nodding, she twists up sections and lifts them to create an upswept hairdo, then pins gems and silk butterflies into it. It’s a new fashion among human aristocrats, I’m told, one I couldn’t care less about.

Which is as much as I care about this banquet.

“Do you think the Lord of Enjou will be here?” Della recovers quickly. “They say he’s very handsome. And unmarried as yet.”

She’s used to my abrupt mood changes, knowing the reason for them. Everyone does around here.

“I’m betrothed to someone already. I don’t need to look at unmarried, handsome lords.”

“Ah, but the heart rejoices at the sight of male beauty, doesn’t it?”

I cover up another sigh. Sometimes, even knowing all about me and my past won’t stop people from sending little stabby jabs my way.

Not only because I’m not beautiful, not anymore, but also because she just reminded me that I’ll never get my own pick of a man to marry.

My father—stepfather, that is—announced that he was giving my hand to Lord Orvyn Eorl.

That was many years ago, right after he married my mother, when I was too young to understand my fate. And after the attack, well… He was all too happy Lord Eorl didn’t annul the agreement. Because who in their right mind would want me now?

I should be grateful, I suppose. Niele, my stepfather’s wife, never misses a chance to remind me of that. I wish I could embrace the sentiment.

Even though Lord Eorl has pushed off the wedding quite a few times. I’m about to turn twenty-three, kind of old for getting married in this age and time, but I’m sure he has his reasons.

“Do you think the House of Fireflies will attend the banquet?” Della is still talking, I realize, and has already added a number of decorative pins to my hair. I frown at my reflection, then look away quickly.

“The noble fae will want to honor their promises,” I mutter. “They have been careful to keep good relations with us since the War of Justice.”

That was the war between humans and fae over four hundred years ago that toppled the fae sovereignty over this world and changed fae magic, either diminishing it until it became almost non-existent, or distorting it, resulting in the dark fae who roam the mountains close to the rim of the world…

changing them in terrible ways, either forcing them to shift into animals, or trees and plants, or else giving them power over the dead and dark things.

“Yet, they are arrogant, my lady, always thinking they are better than the likes of us.” Della walks around me, hands on her hips, surveying her work. Then she grabs a jewelry box from the commode and opens it for me to choose. “I think the pearls, my lady. They complement your skin.”

“Because I’m pale like a wraith, you mean?” I ask wryly, picking the pearls she suggested.

“Nothing wrong with being pale.”

“Pale like the fae,” I whisper and cradle the pearls in my palms, cool and smooth like tears. “Like my fate.”

“Don’t be so morose, my lady.” Della takes the earrings from my hands and hangs them on my ears, then snaps the necklace around my neck, over the collar, where it hangs together with my ever-present silver locket. “You have always been a fighter.”

I shoot her a surprised look—I don’t ever recall her saying such things to me. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“No.” She lifts the crystal phial of rose and jasmine perfume and dabs some on my wrists. “I was referring to the past.”

“I know.” I fight my self-directed irritation. I’m seeing omens where there are none, because the future scares me. Knowing I survived the past doesn’t make me feel any more optimistic about my upcoming marriage. My gut feeling is that I should run away.

My rational mind tells me not to be a fool.

I’m a spoilt nobleman’s daughter, raised in luxury and the arts.

I’ve been groomed for this role all my life, more so since my father passed away and my mother remarried.

Even more so since she passed away as well, leaving my stepfather in charge.

He immediately recognized the advantage of marrying me off to Lord Eorl.

See, Lord Eorl signed a contract with my stepfather promising to bring fertility back to our barren lands through Crown-approved green magic. Oh, he’s human, but knows fae who will do his bidding.

At least, I’m not being pawned off to a fae lord, which is quickly becoming a fashion—human brides sold to fae grooms. Still, my stepfather managed to make a profit out of me.

He made me useful. His damaged stepdaughter.

Useful to himself, his wife and daughter, to everyone living in this manor and on its lands, lands that would have become mine by right, only I’m an orphan, scarred inside and out, and a woman.

Despite the heroines dotting our history, I’m still underprivileged and in need of a husband to support me.

And I should, apparently, be grateful for having found one…

The manor is as noisy as a hive, and just as busy. Liveried servants pass us by, carrying trays and deep bowls of steaming food. Harried-looking maids rush down the hallways, chattering among themselves, their cheeks flushed, arms full of crockery.

Della hurries after me as I make my way down the stairs. Together we walk into the great hall with its huge fireplace that’s always lit and the black chandelier swinging in the middle, decorated with curling horns said to be trophies from dark fae hunts.

The hall is lined with long tables and benches, and the servants are already laying the dishes and silverware, placing the food on a separate table near the kitchen door.

The best dishes, best silverware, the silver goblets, I note as I make my way through the hall, heading for the end where the family sits. Stepfather has gone all out.

This much effort can’t be just for the House of Fireflies. The human Houses attending the banquet are on a par with the fae Houses, if not richer.

Anyway, the point is… Who else is Stepfather expecting tonight?

I try not to let the unknown affect me, though I’ve been a mess since the attack. Granted, it was many years ago, nearly a decade, but sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday, and I crave my routine and safe structures.

A decade later, and I can still see my mother’s lacerated body sprawled in this very hall as I was carried away, screaming and kicking. Carried away by the monsters. I clench my hands, nails biting into my palms, the small sting staving off the panic.

You’re safe now, I tell myself. Here is safe. Nobody can carry you away again. We have guards and patrols. They won’t catch us off guard a second time.

“My lady,” Della says from behind me, and I realize I’ve stopped in my tracks. “Do you have any need of me, or shall I go help with the serving?”

I wave her away, still disoriented from the memories of that terrible day, then start determinedly toward my seat. I already see my stepfather standing there, talking to one of his close friends, Lord Pavander from the capital, Siris, come all the way here to grace us with his stinky presence.

Could he be the one Stepfather is trying to impress? It’s possible.

I hesitate before approaching. They don’t like women hanging around them, unless it’s pretty women they invited and who make them look good.

I like listening in to conversations about interesting things like the farms, the trade, the people, but tonight I’d like not to draw Stepfather’s ire toward me. Not with so many people watching.

I won’t be here for much longer, anyway. I’m set to travel soon, maybe as soon as in the next few months. All this will be behind me, exchanged for whatever awaits me across the plains.

More people are standing or sitting about, talking and drinking wine. And what about the hunting party and all the ruckus they were making earlier? They are nowhere to be seen, which means they still haven’t entered the manor.

I smooth my hands over my gown and start toward my stepfamily. Heads turn, gazes following me.

“The Frost Princess,” I hear people whisper. “She’s here.”

I purposefully ignore them and the stupid nickname. It’s stuck on me for years now, ever since I grew into a woman and they realized I wasn’t going to get rid of my high collars and long sleeves, my aversion to touching, and silly small talk.

That I was never going to become like them or turn into the person they expected me to be.

Someone waves at me from the far end of the hall, and I recognize my cousins, come all the way from the town of Merrith to visit. They are a wealthy family on my mother’s side, dealing in the trade of cloth and wine. A nice bunch, doves flying over this sea of cunning weasels and wicked foxes.

Smiling, I start toward them when a hand grabs my arm and jerks me back.

“Oh, look, it’s the drab bat,” a familiar, annoying voice screeches from behind me, and I turn to face my sister, if only in name, daughter of my stepfather and his wife.

“Matilde,” I whisper. “What do you want?”