CHAPTER 4

Nothing has been working. My usual repertoire of resistance goes virtually unnoticed by my parents. Wolves are stubborn, and this battle between us is turning into a cold war. It doesn’t matter how many times I refuse to attend dinner, or how long I refuse to speak with them—they just…don’t care. 

In between the bouts of silence and petty behavior, I spend most of my time in the library. Usually, I avoid confining myself to the mansion as much as possible, but duty calls. I’ve read up on everything we have about the war, though most of its earliest accounts were lost to myth and legend. My family brought over most of their records from the Old Country, but it’s not enough. 

With a frustrated sigh, I slam one of the few hundred old texts shut. More are scattered around the long table in the center of the hall, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I’m not even sure why we have so many books. It’s not as if anyone actually comes to the library and reads. Not in this day and age. We have phones for that. 

My thoughts whirl. Nothing in these books has given me any sort of idea of how I could end this war without being shipped off like a prized pig. Most of it includes accounts of some of the worst battles; ones where too many lives were lost. I’m surprised both Shifters and Wyres have survived any of it. 

Footsteps sound down the hall and I tense. I recognize my mother’s swift, fluid gate, the way her heels click on the marble floor. And I’m really not in the mood to ignore her now. All I want to do is scream. To rant. Talk to someone about how incredibly shitty this situation is. 

I want to whisper my fears of the Bloody Prince. Of the Wyres. Of my future. 

Tristan hasn’t come to see me since my proposal in the bedroom. It’s the longest we’ve gone without speaking. A part of me is embarrassed about how I acted then, but the anger of his refusal stings even worse. So far, that is still my best plan. My only plan. If the Bloody Prince wants a virgin bride, then I could save myself with one simple act. 

Clearly, it is easier planned than done.

The door opens and Mother steps inside, her movements loud in the silence of the library. “Octavia?” She doesn’t need to speak loudly. With my heightened senses, I could hear her miles away. Which means she can also hear me just beyond the stacks, sitting at the table. 

I wait for her to appear between the shelves, dressed in another black pantsuit. This time, her hair is left undone, flowing in rich, inky waves between her shoulder blades. 

“Octavia.” She stops just beside me, hands clasped in front of her. When I don’t answer, she sighs. “Are you going to ignore us forever?” 

“Just until you end this insane plan of yours,” I reply bitterly. 

She sits in the chair next to me, reaching across the table to take my hand. I move it to my lap, fists clenched tightly. “Some day you’ll understand. I know that’s cliché,” she says quickly, “but it’s true. When you become Queen, Luna, whatever it is you’ll be, you’ll understand then.” 

“I understand now,” I tell her. “I understand that you and father have taken the easy route instead of figuring out another way.” 

“There is no other way,” Mother snaps. She takes a deep breath. I can feel her wolf so close to the surface. “If there was, we would take it. But there isn’t. We have more experience in these matters and, most of the time, we have to make hard decisions like this.” 

“You made it look like a pretty easy decision to me,” I scoffed. 

Mother’s silver eyes sharpened. “That’s enough.” She stands, her back stiff with anger. “Your dramatics ends now. When the Prince arrives in two days, you will be on your best behavior.” 

“When the what comes in two days?” My head whips up. “You can’t be serious.” 

But I can see that she is. 

In two days, the Bloody Prince will be at our doorstep. The monster that stalks Shifter childrens’ nightmares will be here. In my home. 

“I came to gave you a warning,” Mother replies. “You will see that this peace treaty works out or you will forfeit your right to the crown.” 

She doesn’t wait for my reply. Turning, she sweeps from the library, letting the door slam shut behind her. I can only stare after her, open-mouthed. Ice freezes my lungs, constricting my air. My wolf self growls in the back of my mind, snarling in protest. But I remain silent. 

My whole life I’ve been training to take over from my parents. That’s been my sole purpose for the past twenty-two years. To threaten my future like this, to take away the one thing I’ve lived for, is cruel even for my parents. The peace treaty is important, yes. But not so important as to threaten the future of the entire Shifter kingdom. 

The sound of my fist hitting the table echoes throughout the room. My claws dig into the wood. 

Two days. That’s all I have to find another solution. To find another way out. 

Two. Freaking. Days. 

+++

Two days pass by all too quickly. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of my floor-length mirror, glaring back at my reflection. Mother had swept into my room this morning with a new dress, ignoring my pleas and protests. She’d warned me that if I destroyed this dress before the Bloody Prince could see me in it, she’d rip my claws out one-by-one. 

I don’t think I destroyed it, though. In my opinion, I’ve made it better. 

The atrocity she’d brought me was a nice enough color; a rich, emerald green that made my gray eyes pop. But the puff sleeves and copious amounts of taffeta made it a complete eyesore. So, to get my mind off the horrors that awaited me tonight, I did a little…fixing up. 

Before, the sleeves had nearly engulfed my arms, tightening around my wrists. Now, my tanned skin peeked through evenly-cut slits. I trimmed away the high neckline into a Queen Anne style, with a little help from one of the maids. The taffeta had been cut away, leaving only two, wing-like strips that had been sewn onto the top of my shoulders, leaving the silk beneath bare. 

Overall, I think I did a hell of a job with it. 

If I’m going to face the Bloody Prince himself, I might as well look my best. Not for him, but for myself. As the maid zips the dress up, I feel more confident. More powerful. My parents might have taken away my choice, but I still had my wits, my courage, and my strength. 

The Bloody Prince is going to regret ever laying eyes on me. 

I check my hair for any flyaways, making sure every strand is in place. Braids wrap around my head like a crown to remind the Prince who he’s dealing with. They meet at the back, twisting together into a low bun. Gold dangles from my ears, complete with a glimmering choker of diamonds around my neck. 

The only thing missing is a crown. 

Mother and Father have thrown an extravagant dinner in honor of the peace treaty. I’ve watched cars arrive all evening, Shifters of every rank, every status, make their way towards the ballroom. Even from my bedroom, I could sense their nervousness, their morbid curiosity. This would be the first time any of the Shifter elite will see Wyres up close. 

Outside my window, I hear the crunching of tires on the gravel drive. My maid hurries to the window, peering out into the darkness. I refuse to move. I can smell them even from here; a wild scent that has no place in my territory. My maid lets out a sharp breath, her body going taunt with tension. 

Still, I stay where I am. 

“He’s here.” Her voice is so soft, I barely catch it over the pounding sound of my heart crashing against my ribcage. “There’s…so many of them.” 

Well, who would expect the Bloody Prince of the Wyres to show up without an army? 

“Please make sure everything is prepared for my arrival downstairs,” I reply tightly. 

The maid is slow to tear herself away from the window. Head bent, she scurries past me, nose twitching anxiously. When the door closes behind her, I let my canines slip, biting into my lower lip. I am not going to cry. I refuse to show any weakness. It doesn’t matter that my palms are slick with sweat. It doesn’t matter that my heart is screaming for me to tear off this dress and make a run for it through the woods, to disappear into the wild. 

I am not going to let him win. 

Swallowing my fear, I turn from the mirror. My hand shakes as I open my door, shutting it softly behind me. I take my sweet time as I head toward my fate. One step in front of the other. Deep breath. My heels click against the floor, echoing down the corridor as I head for the ballroom. 

Everyone else is already inside. I can hear their whispers, smell their fear. All except the Wyres. They are silent and they smell like the forest; a rich, earthy scent that makes my head spin. Two butlers wait by the doors, stiff and cold. As one, they reach for the door handles and it’s all I can do not to run right then and there. 

The doors sweep open. Light floods the corridor. A hundred faces turn towards me. 

And there he is. 

I spot him immediately, standing beside my mother and father. He’s dressed in a black suit, a tie the color of blood cinched around his throat. The material strains against his broad chest, his arms, as if he was about to burst from the jacket in seconds. His hair is the color of honey, curling across his forehead, around his ears. At first glance, he seems harmless. Like any other Shifter.

His jaw is sharp, brushed with honey-colored stubble that does nothing to hide the model-like bone structure beneath his flawless skin. He’s tall—taller than I’d imagined—with a broad chest and slim waist, built like a warrior. This is no mere aristocrat. The Prince looks as if every story about him is true; that he leads his own battles, that he’s killed hundreds of Shifters with claws of iron and teeth of steel. 

Golden eyes lock with mine and a tremor of fear rolls down my spine. 

I can feel his power emanating from across the room. It is cold and ruthless, biting into my soul. 

“Princess Octavia Hart,” a butler announces. I barely hear him. Blood thrums in my ears, turning to ice in my veins. 

The Bloody Prince doesn’t move a muscle, his face as still as stone, and any bravado I had pretended to have before vanishes into thin air. I’m not ready. I’m not prepared. 

This is not a man who can be messed with. I can see it in his eyes. 

Steeling myself, I step into the room. The doors shut behind me. 

There is no going back.