Karen Whiddon - The Wolf Prince

Here we go , Willow told herself as she propelled herself forward, aiming for the single empty chair at the table. She tried to move gracefully, even though exhaustion from the night before made her legs feel hollow and wobbly. Eyeing her sister as she approached, she wondered why Tatiana looked so smug, like a cat that had wandered across a mouse farm.

Of course the moment she took her attention from what she was supposed to be doing, Willow stumbled. She flailed her arms in a passable imitation of a windmill, nearly tearing her dress in her painful attempt to keep from falling flat on her face.

Despite the exhausted weakness of her traitorous body, she miraculously managed to keep standing.

Both princes immediately leaped to their feet to offer their assistance. Face flaming, she waved them away, not missing the wry look her father gave her.

At least her family was used to her complete lack of social skills. While this was her first fall, she was frequently guilty of other faux pas, like saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time. No doubt these two visiting princes had heard stories about her. Even as they once again took their seats, their backs stiff and unyielding, she felt their silence as a form of judgment. She didn’t even try to look at her mother, already aware of the furious condemnation she’d find there.

Instead she glanced again at her sister. Tatiana only tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Normally, she would have made cruel jokes and laughed meanly. Instead, she sat solemnly, her golden beauty glowing, a sympathetic look on her beautiful face. False, but sympathetic nonetheless.

Weird. Really, really weird.

As she resumed her progress toward her seat, remembering what her sister had said, Willow tried to check out their visitors surreptitiously. Tatiana sat between the two princes, their three fair heads the exact same glorious gold, their eyes varying shades of violet, though close enough that they might have been related.

They were perfect examples of the Bright. As shimmering, as golden, as Willow was not. In fact, all of them were as unlike her as it was possible to be. Yet this time, she refused to let them make her feel … less. Because she knew she wasn’t. Prince Ruben had shown her this. If only for one night. She’d felt beautiful, perfect, shining . As she never had before. She wanted to keep that feeling close to her for as long as she could.

The only empty chair for her sat next to the man on Tatiana’s left, which meant he must be the younger son, the one her parents intended her to wed.

Her father stood and pulled out the chair as she approached, glaring at her as though he dared her not to do anything else to humiliate herself and by proxy, them. Only when she was safely seated did he speak.

“Prince Chad, may I present my youngest daughter, the Princess Willow.”

Chad stood, his expression shuttered. He didn’t meet her gaze while he bowed over her fingers. Since this was a formal breakfast, protocol dictated that he kiss her hand, something Willow had always hated. Some kisses were too much, slimy and wet. Others were dry, reminding her of snakes and bats. She’d endured them all time and time again, ever since she’d been a small girl. Always, there was no escaping this archaic ritual, so she suffered through it with a bland smile. When Prince Chad met her smile with an ironic one of his own, she realized he must hate the old-fashioned greeting as much as she did.

His mouth moved over her hand, the barest whisper.

Finally, he released her, dipping his cleft chin in a mock bow. The small glimmer of hilarity she saw in his violet gaze warmed her. Surprising. She thought she might actually like this man, despite his too-good-to-be-true handsomeness.

The other—Prince Eric, no doubt—leaned across in front of Tatiana, his corded arm scraping her considerable bosom, causing Tatiana to draw her breath in a sharp hiss. If he noticed, he paid her no heed, fixing his bright violet eyes on Willow and flashing a dazzling smile that would have been painfully beautiful if it weren’t so practiced.

“I’m Prince Eric,” he intoned, his rich baritone both deliberately seductive and impossibly arrogant. Tatiana’s intended. Willow nodded in acknowledgment.

As her sister had mentioned, Eric was beautiful, in the same way as Tatiana. They were both flawless, golden and oh-so-Bright. Together, they would make a breathtaking couple. And their children would be perfect visions of Brightness. She tried to ignore the envy that coiled in her stomach.

Instead, she opened her mouth to pay them the compliment, remarking on their great beauty and how that would affect their potential offspring. She then realized Tatiana might not appreciate it, especially after what she’d said earlier.

“Pleased to meet you,” Willow said lamely instead.

Was that actually amusement that flashed in her sister’s bright violet eyes?

Though she’d already taken her seat, Chad began to fuss with her chair, ostensibly to help her get settled comfortably. She glanced sideways at him and felt … nothing. Which actually was a relief. He was no Prince Ruben, that was for sure.

The thought startled her. Merely thinking of the human prince made her entire body feel warm. Until she remembered the earring—oh, her mother’s pearl earring—and her stomach turned.

Her mother’s precious, no-doubt-magical, pearl earrings. Precious, not only because of the pearl, but because of the magical power contained within, although only their true owner knew how to use them properly.

She glanced at the queen. Luckily, though she’d decked herself out in a dazzling array of jewels for this breakfast, evidently her mother hadn’t yet realized they were missing. Willow crossed her fingers, hoping her luck held out long enough for her to travel through the veil and retrieve the lost one. Whether or not the baubles were magical, they belonged to Millicent and thus, were valuable beyond compare.

She had to find it. Or there would be hell to pay. Her mother would make sure of that. Therefore, failure wasn’t an option.

When she looked up again, she realized Prince Chad was watching her, as though trying to discern her thoughts. She pasted on her best social smile and pretended to be interested in the table arrangement.

As the servants stepped forward with an array of delicacies, her stomach growled, making her realize she was actually starving. Left to her own devices, she’d have preferred to break her fast with a hot bowl of oatmeal and fresh berries, but instead she allowed her plate to be filled with scrambled eggs, grits and sourdough toast. Though the meal looked heavy, the scent of freshly cooked food made her mouth water.

Glad to have something to do with her hands, she dug in, halfheartedly listening to the conversation swirling around her while she chewed and tried to develop a plan.

“Bright to Willow.” Prince Chad gave her a gentle nudge, nearly causing her to spew her orange juice. She gasped instead, choked and unfortunately began coughing, her eyes filling with tears as she grabbed her napkin to cover her mouth.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sounding concerned, even though a bit of ironic humor lurked in his gaze.

“Swallowed wrong,” she gasped out, waving him away. When she finally looked up, helpless, wishing she could make a quick exit from the room, everyone at the table was ogling her as though she’d grown two heads.

Some things never changed. Except they had, last night at the ball in Teslinko. That night, everything had been ideal.

She gave them a sickly smile, grabbed her napkin and wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. When she did, she saw her mascara had run and that she’d ruined her makeup. Another addition to a morning already gone bad.