The Wolf Prince (16 page)

A sense of expectation hung in the air, nearly visible.

Willow gripped his arm. He saw she had the same rapt expectation on her lovely face. A quick glance showed everyone, from the soldiers to Eric and Chad, had the exact same look.

A moment later, he saw why. A tall man, hair as black as the night sky, strode out of the mouth of the castle. Dressed all in black, the only spot of color was the blood red lining of his long cloak.

At the sight of him, Ruben’s wolf growled. Their soldier escort immediately dropped to their knees. Only Willow, Ruben, Chad and Tatiana remained standing.

Ruben braced himself for a fight. A quick glance at Chad showed the Bright man had also adopted battle stance.

Willow stood frozen, in obvious shock. Her sister however, was not so bold. After one quick look at the dark man, Tatiana dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

Though brave Willow trembled violently, she held her ground. As the Shadow king approached, she held her head high, like a queen about to receive a supplicant.

Ruben admired her courage even as he feared for her safety. He tried to go to her, shocked when he found himself unable to move. When he glanced over at Chad and Eric, he noticed they both struggled futilely beside him. Whatever magical spell had gripped him had touched them, as well.

He did not care. He would not give in. This was Willow, and he would not abandon her when she needed him most. With a huge shudder, he pushed through, feeling the very atmosphere tear as he broke free.

Before the dark king reached her, Ruben stepped in front, placing himself squarely between Willow and danger.

To his shock and disbelief, Willow pushed her way around him, so that she once again stood, alone and unprotected, to wait for their enemy’s approach.

“He is not our enemy,” Willow said, again as though she’d read his mind. Her beautiful dark eyes glinted—with unshed tears?

Ruben looked more closely at the Shadow king. Something about him seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until he compared his features with Willow’s that he realized what he saw. Similarity. Willow had the same chin, the same skin tone and the same almond-shaped eyes.

Howling hounds. Was this man Willow’s birth father? He hadn’t expected it to be this soon or this easy. Stepping back, he decided to wait and see.

* * *

Willow stared at the man who had sent the hawk to find her and who, also according to the hawk, had sired her. She waited for a jolt of recognition. But when she met the tall man’s caramel-colored eyes, so like her own, she felt...nothing. No immediate sense of kinship, no feeling that fate had somehow worked a miracle by bringing them together. Not even the lurking sense of completeness that she’d half hoped would finally click into place.

The king glanced once at the others, then his cryptic gaze settled finally on her.

“Welcome to NorthWard,” the tall man said, his aristocratic features showing no hint that he knew who she was. “It’s been many long years since a Bright has graced our shores.”

Shores? For the first time she realized they must be near an ocean. As she was about to speak, Eric and Tatiana snapped out of their trance. They jostled each other while rushing forward, vying to claim recognition as the head of their respective families.

They both began speaking at once, their words tumbling over each other in a jumble. The dark king waited one heartbeat, two, then raised his hand and silenced them as effectively as if they’d been gagged.

“Someone will show you to your rooms,” he told the others. Once again he looked at Willow and this time, he held out his arm for her to take. “Walk with me,” he said.

Hesitating briefly, she placed her hand on his arm and went with him.

As they walked, he talked. He spoke of nothing of consequence; rather he described his gardens to her in such lush and lavish detail she could almost smell the blooms. She got a sense he was testing her, sounding her out as though a short conversation would give him an insight into her soul.

She played along, nodding and smiling politely, though she volunteered nothing about herself. They strolled down long, empty hallways, eerily similar to those in her home except for the stark lack of color. After his garden, he spoke of pets and land and horses. Finally, he got around to telling her about his family.

He and his queen had three children, two boys and a girl. The eldest and heir had recently married and his wife was expecting a child in a few months. Willow caught her breath at the thought that she might have half brothers and a half sister, but until this man broached the subject, she wouldn’t even allow herself to consider the possibility.

Finally, he stopped in front of a door. It was, like all the others, constructed from a single piece of black obsidian.

“This is your room,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’ll leave you here to rest and freshen up. Someone will come and get you for a more formal audience, at which time you may meet the rest of my family, if you like.”

Taking a deep breath, she wished she had the courage to finally ask if they were her family, too.

Instead, she smiled back and thanked him, then entered the room she’d been given, letting the door close softly behind her.

Alone, she realized her hands were shaking. She didn’t know what to think. Was this man, this king, her father, as the hawk had claimed? If so, why did he not acknowledge who they were to each other? Was he testing her for some reason?

Finally she turned and studied her room. The bed, despite the unrelenting black of the fluffy comforter, looked soft and warm. Too tired to think straight, she crawled between the sheets and let the welcome oblivion of sleep claim her.

* * *

Ruben was too keyed up to sleep, so he decided to explore the castle. He hadn’t been given strict instructions to remain in his room or anything. He found a flowing cloak with a hood and settled it around his shoulders. Since Willow had once told him that the Brights would not welcome him in their land, he could only imagine how the Shadows would feel.

The empty hallways had an eerie feel to them, enhanced by the monochromatic coloring. No stranger to palace life, he kept expecting to encounter someone, anyone. A harried servant, a bored socialite, the requisite drunk uncle. Instead, his footsteps echoed off the granite walls, reinforcing his solitude.

With each turn, the endless expanse of hallway stretched out before him, dark walls studded by black doors. Finally, he came to a landing with a massive, two-sided staircase. He could either go up or down.

He chose down. And as he took the steps two at a time, gradually the hum of voices came to him, letting them know there was a part of this castle still full of life.

When he reached another landing, he realized the sounds came from still another level down. The curve of the massive staircase made it impossible to see below, so he continued on. Once he stepped onto the next landing, he saw a crush of people gathered around a set of double doors at the end of yet another infernally long hallway. He hurried to join them, not certain what they were doing, but curious nonetheless.

Though several cast him curious glances, no one questioned him as he took his place in the line of people pressing through the doors. The tide of bodies carried him inside, disgorging him as everyone headed in their own direction.

He glanced around and realized he was in the throne room. He thought of the one at home, remembering how he’d compared it to the SouthWard room. Then, he’d believed that difference to be great, but the difference between Teslinko and SouthWard was nothing compared to this.

The Shadows’ throne room, like everything else in the palace, was dark, very nearly sinister, whereas the Brights’ had been over-the-top, glittering, gaudily, bright. The sharp contrast between the two throne rooms was as remarkable as the difference in the castle itself. Lit solely by giant iron candelabras, the black marble floors gleamed, reflecting back the candlelight which gave the room a gloomy, surreal appearance.

Trying to blend in with the others would be an exercise in futility, especially since he wore trousers of a soft fawn color and his shirt was a pale blue. The entire court wore dark colors—deep maroon, navy, purple and the ever-present black.

Despite their proclivity to drabness, by contrast the people appeared happy, wearing bright smiles and joyous expressions as they chatted with their neighbors. No one seemed to take notice of him, standing alone and feeling out of place on the edge of several large groups of people.

There was no dais; rather the enormous black obsidian throne sat beside an immense fireplace where only embers smoldered.

The king, dressed all in black, waited regally for his subjects to approach. Briefly, Ruben wondered why his queen didn’t hold court with him, then as King Drem began to shimmer right in front of his gaze, he forgot about the question. The king faded and reappeared, solid one moment and ethereal the next. He and the chair appeared to merge, becoming one. Only when he flashed his white smile did people begin to move.

Again, there appeared to be no orderly process. As far as Ruben could tell, if one wished to speak to the king, he or she took their place in line and waited patiently for their chance.

Since he had absolutely nothing to lose, Ruben got in line and mentally prepared to appeal to the king.

When he reached the front of the line, he stepped forward. Taking his cue from the men who’d gone before him, he dropped to one knee in a gesture of respect.

“Welcome again, Prince Ruben of Teslinko,” King Drem boomed. “What can I help you with on this glorious day?”

“I need to get back to the land of the Brights,” Ruben said, the urgency in his tone making it no less respectful.

“Are you certain?” King Drem regarded him curiously. “What do you seek there that cannot be found here?”

Ruben hoped the tight set of his jaw didn’t betray the fact that the Shadow king acted as though he might have to stay here forever. He had to tread carefully, so he drew himself up and looked the other man in the eye. “I hunt a murderer, a killer who crossed from that land to mine and brutally slay one of my servants.”

King Drem’s dark brows rose in surprise. “A murderer? Among our people? We are not killers, whether Shadow or Bright. That does not seem possible.”

“I assure you that it is.”

“And you’re certain.”

“Very certain. My servant is dead. And I saw the man cross the veil. A magical artifact is also missing.”

At his words, the king’s expression grew pensive. “And the one you seek—is he Bright or Shadow?”

“Bright. The man had golden hair and purple eyes. He was tall, broad shouldered and athletic.”

“Like the SouthWard princes?” the Shadow ruler asked, glancing at them.

Eric and Chad, who stood with a group of admiring women, were oblivious.

“Yes,” Ruben answered. “Like them. Though something is off with the younger brother.”

The king frowned, studying them. “He uses some sort of magical glamour, dulling his appearance.”

“Dulling it? Would that change his appearance very much?” Enough to ensure that Ruben would not recognize him? Suspicion and anger burned in his chest.

“It’s possible.” King Drem shrugged. “Did you think to ask him why?”

“Willow told me. I think it was his peculiar way of courting her.”

“Courting? He wishes to marry her?”

“Her parents arranged the match.”

“Millicent and that...” Anger flashed across his aristocratic features. “They’ve arranged for my...for their daughter to marry a man of the East?”

“My mother has little use for me,” Willow put in, startling Ruben, who hadn’t been aware she’d arrived.

Coincidence? Or had she been summoned? He turned to look at her, crossing his arms to keep from reaching out to her as she took a step closer to the throne.

“I think my existence reminds her of things she’d rather forget,” Willow continued. She took a deep breath and raised her chin in that cute way she had, letting Ruben know she was about to do something that, for her, was very brave.

“I need to know something, your Highness,” she said, her voice barely quivering. “When you sent word to my room that you wanted to see me, I came willingly, because I must ask you a question.”

The king nodded. “Go ahead.”

Quickly glancing around at the packed room, she frowned. “Perhaps we should speak in private?”

“I don’t see the need.” He smiled, making Ruben wonder if he already knew what Willow meant to ask.

“I have no secrets from my people,” the king said. “Please. Ask your question.”

“Very well.” She took a deep breath. “I would like to know if you are my birth father.”

Chapter 16

A
bruptly the room went utterly silent. Whispers died down, everyone making no secret of their rapt attention. Willow kept her gaze fixed on the king and told herself that she didn’t care. These were not her people. Not yet, at least.

Back straight, heart in her throat, she faced down the man who, for whatever reason, had not only failed to acknowledge her parentage, but had done his best to pretend as if she’d never been born.

It shouldn’t have hurt so badly.

He bent his head, his expression pensive. Again, he didn’t appear to be ready to give her a direct answer. That was all right. She’d waited her entire life. She could wait a few more minutes. But no more than that.

“I loved your mother once. Twice,” King Drem mused, his tone pensive. “And I believed she loved me. We made plans to wed, but right before our wedding, she told me she would be marrying King Puck instead. She wasn’t royalty then and to her it was a heady thing, to be made queen of her own people.”

Shocked, Willow took pains to conceal it. This was news to her. She’d always believed her mother had come from minor royalty. But then, since Millicent was extremely tight-lipped, Willow hadn’t actually known anything of her mother’s history, nor she suspected, did Tatiana. Her mother had always been very secretive of her past. Now Willow understood why.

For a moment, an old pain flashed across King Drem’s autocratic features. “I loved her,” he repeated, his low voice breaking. He looked away, obviously gathering his composure. Out of respect, Willow glanced down at her feet, waiting until he spoke again.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “She had a choice,” he continued. “True love and ruling over my people or...her own people. She chose to remain among the Brights.”

Eyeing her blankly as though he didn’t really see her, the Shadow king appeared lost in thought and memories. His obvious grief, even after all these years, made Willow’s chest ache.

She glared at the court, willing them to converse. She hated that they were so bold as to intrude on such a private moment. Everyone in the room strained to listen with no shame.

“That was her reasoning?” Willow asked, pitching her voice as low as she could to keep it from carrying. “The desire to rule the Brights meant more to her than her true love?”

Of course, knowing her mother as she did, Willow could easily imagine this scenario. What she couldn’t picture was her mother actually loving someone other than herself. Though, the more King Drem spoke, the more it sounded like she hadn’t.

“Millicent didn’t want even to try to overcome the prejudices of our two peoples against each other. She would have been an outsider here.”

Raising his head, he sighed, gazing off into the distance. “So she chose Puck instead. They married amid great celebration, or so I hear. I, of course, was not invited to the wedding.”

“But this was all too long ago to have resulted in my birth,” she protested. She fell silent when King Drem raised his hand.

“You have no concept of how difficult this was for her,” he said. Though privately Willow doubted that, she nodded and kept her mouth shut.

“Were your two people enemies then?” Ruben asked. He’d come up beside her and, to her surprise, took her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers.

“Not enemies,” King Drem said sadly. “We weren’t friends, either, but we did do a fair bit of trading between our lands. That has completely stopped these days.”

Willow nodded. Though many years had passed, and Shadow handicrafts were few and far between; their knives were valued for their craftsmanship and beauty.

This was all very well and good, but didn’t even begin to answer her question. Again, Willow faced the king, drawing strength from Ruben’s fingers intertwined with hers.

“If this is the case, did you ever see my mother again?” she asked. “Obviously, you must have.”

Focusing on her, slowly King Drem nodded. “I did.”

“When?” she persisted, wishing he’d just come out and say she was his daughter.

“Years had passed and Millicent had been married to Puck several years. She had already borne her husband a daughter when she sought me out. She was unhappy and wanted to see if what we’d once had still burned as bright.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I, of course, could never refuse her anything.”

So it was true. She waited for a sense of joy that never came.

The king smiled sadly. “Obviously, you were the result of that union. Foolishly, I thought she’d stay. But her husband wooed her back with jewels and honeyed promises.”

She couldn’t help but notice he didn’t mention the baby she’d been. Willow squared her shoulders and braced herself to hear the rest. She’d come here for the truth and the truth she would have. No matter how much it hurt. “Weren’t you curious about me? Did you truly have no desire to see the child you helped create?”

His dark brows came together in a thunderous frown. “Your mother didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head. “Tell me what?”

He sighed. “I wondered if you knew. I was forbidden to contact you, as long as you remained in your land. King Puck said he would wage war on NorthWard if I tried to see you or get in touch with you in any way. So I did not.”

Her knees almost buckled. Now at last, she understood everything. She felt a rush of anger toward the woman who’d raised her. All these years. Teased by her classmates and her sister, gossiped about by her own people and shunned by the man she’d believed to be her father. All the while wondering why.

And now she knew.

Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face. Leaning forward in his massive black chair, King Drem studied her. “You didn’t know?” he asked quietly.

Still gripping Ruben’s hand, she took a step closer, bringing him with her. “No. I suspected, when I first met you. But then why were we bound and made to wear hoods? We were brought to you, then. Did you not order this?”

He smiled, looking anything but regretful. “I did not. My closest advisor took it upon himself to do this, as a gift to me.”

“I don’t understand...”

“Years ago, when I located a portal that led to your lands, I’ve routinely sent men to check on you and report back to me. This time, you and your friends were riding so close to the portal that he couldn’t resist. You were bound and hooded so he could bring you through, without giving away the location.”

So she’d been right.

“Do you not worry about my parents’ retribution for this?”

Again he smiled. “I don’t think they’ll be so eager to pursue that now. As far as they will know, unless you tell them differently, you came to me.”

She nodded, agreeing silently. “So you did send the hawk—” Horrified at what she’d almost revealed, she bit back the rest of her words.

But the king looked pleased. “You’ve inherited my gift then, daughter. I too can communicate with wild things.”

Stunned, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Not only had he called her
daughter,
but they shared the same abilities. She couldn’t believe she was no longer an outcast, no longer alone.

“Come here,” King Drem ordered, opening his arms wide. “Come here, my child, my girl.”

Letting go of Ruben’s hand, she walked into her father’s arms.

* * *

As she watched from the back of the room, Tatiana took care to remain hidden. She’d found one of the drab dresses favored by the Shadows and hidden her bright golden hair under a hood. With this disguise in place, she’d not only managed to avoid Eric and Chad, but move around the palace unnoticed.

Jealousy gnawed at her as she saw the way the human prince supported her younger sister. Here, Willow was no longer an oddity. Among her own people, she was not ugly but beautiful. Here, she fit right in.

For the first time in Tatiana’s life, she was made to feel outcast, undesirable and alone. For this she hated Willow, but when she saw the Shadow king take her sister in his arms and proclaim her
daughter
to his entire court, she almost lost control. Digging her nails into her palms, she clamped her mouth shut to keep from screaming. She wanted to rush forward, rip Willow out of King Drem’s embrace and fling her across the room.

“Do I detect a bit of rage in the set of your jaw?” Chad drawled from beside her.

She almost snapped at him for startling her. Instead, she gulped in a deep breath of air and, when she was certain she had her emotions under control, turned to him.

“How did you recognize me?”

His leering smile widened. “Such beauty shines beyond any disguise.”

“A compliment?” She didn’t even smile. “Tell me, what are you doing here?” Though her tone was silky, she let him hear hints of her anger. “I thought you were with your brother, being fawned over by admiring women.”

“Tsk, tsk. Jealousy and anger do not become you.”

“I believe this is an emotion you’re familiar with,” she said smugly. “You despise Eric as much as I loathe Willow.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. Stumbling after him, she allowed him to pull her down the hallway. Her heart racing, her blood pounded.

No one stopped them.

Chad shoved open a door and yanked her in after him. Thoroughly aroused, she went willingly, though she feigned a token protest. Chad kicked the door shut behind him and pushed her onto the bed. Panting, she lay on her back, gazing up at him. His expression was cruel as he tore her dress, yanked down his trousers and climbed on top of her.

Thrilled, she clawed at him. Her last coherent thought as he pushed himself into her ready body was that she’d finally found The One. They were two of a kind.

Later, pleasantly sore, she gazed up at Chad as he adjusted his clothing. His handsome features were austere, as though they hadn’t just shared a savagely brutal sexual encounter.

She stretched, grinning. “I get to be the one in charge next time,” she said.

He blinked, gazing down at her as though he had no idea what she meant. “Next time?”

Unable to resist boasting, she pushed up on her elbows, well aware that her enormous breasts were on full display. The better to tempt him. “Honey, with me there’s always a next time. Unless I don’t wish it, that is.”

Chad scowled but didn’t respond. She couldn’t help but smile. He’d already proved he was powerless to resist her.

* * *

Watching Willow reunite with the father she’d never known brought mixed emotions. Poignant, true, but Ruben also felt a sense of loss. She’d found what she’d unknowingly been seeking, while he...had failed on all levels. So far. He refused to admit defeat yet.

He finally understood the dual nature of his task. Yes, he had to find the murderer and bring him to justice. But he also needed to find a way to heal his fractured psyche, to learn to coexist with the wolf inside him. If he did not, he knew he’d either go completely mad or he’d die.

One thing he did know for certain. He wasn’t going to find anything he sought here. And while he’d let himself hope that Willow would be part of his journey, now that she’d reconnected with her past, he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to stay here.

He wished he knew what she wanted. She hadn’t shared this with him. She took visible delight in her new family, and their apparent acceptance of her was like balm on her troubled soul. He hadn’t seen much of her the last few days and the fact that she’d been willing to walk with him both relieved and worried him.

She’d changed in many small, subtle ways. He felt as if she were slipping away from him. Not that she’d ever been his to begin with, but he was no longer certain she’d even go back to SouthWard with him and the others.

No matter. The sense of urgency had returned full force. A killer had yet to be caught. Restless, Ruben knew he’d soon have to be moving on. Tatiana, Eric and Chad had made no secret of their readiness to return home.

Willow, however, was less easy to read. Either way, it was time for him to leave. With or without her. He only wished the thought of leaving her behind didn’t feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest.

So he bided his time and let her enjoy her new family. He roamed the palace, waiting. The few times he had encountered Willow, she had seemed like a ghost, clearly no longer interested in anything but her newfound family.

Finally, he’d had enough. By his reckoning, nearly a week had gone by. Time wasted that he could have been spending hunting the murderer. Eric, Tatiana and Chad also kept to themselves, so he didn’t even have them to discuss this with.

He knew he could wait no longer. When he did see Willow again, it was by chance. Returning from yet another solitary stroll in the woods, he’d made up his mind to seek out the others, learn what they wanted to do, before finding King Drem and informing him of his plans to leave.

Willow was first on his list.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, he saw her hurrying down the path toward the meadow. She carried a small bouquet of flowers. How beautiful she looked, as though the mist and rain agreed with her, her dusky skin glowing with health.

“Willow,” he shouted. She turned and waved, the joyous expression on her face warming his heart as she hurried over.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, hugging him. Chest aching, he hugged her back, before setting her apart. Cocking his head, he studied her.

Though she colored prettily, she continued to hold his gaze. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she finally said, breathless.

He nodded, momentarily unable to speak over the lump in his throat.

“How much time has passed since we’ve been here?” he finally asked her. “I mean in my world. I remember you said time passes differently here.”

She frowned, looking up from her contemplation of a particularly dark rose, as scarlet as blood. “I’m not sure. Why?”

He resisted the urge to touch her and smiled gently. “Because I’ve got to go back to your land, the land of the Brights. I’ve got a killer to catch, remember?”

The look she gave him told him that she had, in fact, managed to forget. This saddened him more than he could express.

As she rearranged her expression back to one of bland vagueness, he reflected that the woman standing before him was nothing like the Willow he’d come to know and care for.