Karen Whiddon - The Wolf Prince

Ruben didn’t understand this line of thought. Last time they’d set off bombs and had tried to harm his sister. The only thing they’d achieved had been jail sentences and widespread scorn and censure.

None of that had fazed them, he guessed. Because they’d regrouped and tried their foolish terroristic actions again. To what end? Ruben couldn’t see what they had hoped to gain by blowing up the palace. Did they even have a plan? Somehow he doubted it.

He suspected they were all crazy. What they wanted was impossible. They wanted Shape-shifters to be able to stay wolf longer than human. Even if such a thing were physically possible—which it was not—Ruben knew better than most how that could mess with one’s mind.

Pushing aside his thoughts, he walked with his father through the still smoldering rubble.

“We’re lucky no one was killed.” Grim faced, in the watery light King Leo looked older than his years. As he watched his normally jovial father shoulder the responsibility for the destruction, Ruben suppressed fury. The strong emotion stirred his wolf to instant alertness. The beast was spoiling for a fight.

He felt his father’s wolf respond in kind, which was unusual. Normally, both his parents’ beasts were sedate animals, content with their lot. Unless … Of course.

“How long has it been since you changed?” Ruben asked the king. Standing right next to each other, both their wolves could sense the other’s restlessness. As usual, at least lately, Ruben had difficulty keeping his under control. He watched as his father instantly subdued his own beast.

Ruefully, Leo smiled. “Quite a while, actually. I’ve been so busy. And now …” He spread his hands, visibly struggling with slipping control. “I don’t know when I’ll ever find the time.”

“You must,” Ruben began, stopping as he watched his father engage in a battle with his beast that felt both odd and eerily familiar. He’d encountered so many of these same battles himself recently.

The king’s inner wolf fought him, struggling to break out, to force a change. Since Ruben had never seen this happen with anyone beside himself, he watched helplessly.

“Sorry.” His father grimaced. “I’ve been fighting my wolf for a while now. I really need to make time to change.”

Ruben felt a combination of emotions. Sadness, fury and anticipation. He realized the latter was fueled by his own wolf. The animals were in sync about one thing—the urgent need to change.

A quick glance at his father made him realize the older man was having similar thoughts. “How about we go right after we finish with this?”

Ruben nodded. Sometimes it was easier—and safer—to give in.

Together they finished their inspection of the damaged area. Through it all, the sense of finality that the king wore like a cloak fascinated Ruben. He couldn’t help but compare his father’s issue to his own. Did King Leo share his son’s problems with his inner wolf, the constant battle to remain human, to maintain control, often with a high mental and physical cost? If so, Ruben wondered if that meant he wasn’t as abnormal and as isolated as he’d feared.

The potential felt enormous. Just the idea that he might not be alone in this felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He took his father’s arm, trying to frame the words properly so that he didn’t give too much away. “How long have you—”

Someone shouted for the king, cutting Ruben off before he could finish asking his question. As they hurried over, he figured maybe it was for the best. He could probably learn more by keeping his mouth shut and observing. He definitely didn’t want his father guessing that something serious might be wrong with his only son and heir.

As she quickly made up her bed, Willow saw something stuck between the pillow and the edge of the wall. Leaning in, she picked it up and froze. An earring. One of the dangly pearl earrings she’d worn last night. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. The ancient and valuable set had belonged to her mother and, as most of the queen’s jewelry did, contained magic only she could access. Willow had borrowed them without permission, intending to return them quickly, before her mother noticed. With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten about them.

One earring. Her hand shook as she cradled it in her palm. One perfect, slightly sooty, pearl earring with unknown magical powers. Oh, shades. The queen would certainly notice if the set wasn’t returned intact. She had to find the other.

Frantic, she looked. A search of her bedding revealed nothing. Ditto under the bed and on the surrounding floor. Think, Willow. Think . Since she’d obviously showered last night with the jewelry on—how could she have been so oblivious?—she checked the bathroom and the shower. Nothing.

Shadefire and double shadefire. Heart sinking, she tried to think. One of her mother’s perfect pearl earrings was missing. How long until her mother noticed? The way Willow’s luck seemed to be running, the queen would decide to wear them today. She’d fly into a rage when she couldn’t find them. And Willow knew where her mother would look first. Not to Tatiana. No, Willow would have a lot of explaining to do.

After the breakfast, she had to find the other. If it wasn’t here … Her pulse skipped a beat. She must have left it in Teslinko, at the prince’s palace, most likely somewhere in the ashy ruins of the ballroom. After the breakfast, she’d return there. That is, if she could sneak away without anyone noticing, and try to find it.

Plan made, she hurried to get ready for the breakfast, well aware her mother wouldn’t appreciate it if she was late after her conspicuous absence at the welcome reception the night before.

And she’d have to do her best to steer clear of whatever scheme her sister was concocting. She had enough trouble already. No sense in borrowing any more.

“Something is going on with my sister,” Tatiana murmured to Prince Chad. She liked him, she really did. They’d been seated next to each other at the breakfast table, Chad on her left and her betrothed, Prince Eric, on her right.

Chad’s faded violet gaze sharpened. “How so?”

Since Willow hadn’t shown up yet, and he had no idea what kind of bride their combined parents had saddled him with, she hid her smile and shook her head, sending her glorious hair swaying. “I’m not certain. I’ll watch her and see if I can get her to tell me.”

He nodded, already looking bored with the subject. As he held her left hand under the table, he’d begun drawing circles in the middle of her palm with his thumb. She shivered, unable to believe how erotic such a small touch could be.

That, plus the fact that he dared take such liberties right under the watchful eye of his brother made it doubly thrilling.

They were two of a kind, she and Prince Chad. If Willow wouldn’t play along, Tatiana would try some other scheme to switch bridegrooms.

“What are you two talking about?” Eric turned and leaned closer, his perfect white teeth flashing in a face that carried exactly the right amount of tan. Studying him, from his patrician features and bright violet eyes, to his hair the exact same shade of gold as hers, Tatiana knew on the surface that no one would understand why she didn’t want him. He was perfect, every girl’s dream of a prince. Like Prince Charming in the old stories.

In looks, he was exactly like her. Her mirror image.

Tatiana never fooled herself or tried to hide from her flaws. She was, she knew, vain and shallow and often bad tempered. The most important person in her life was, and would always be, herself. She didn’t care about others’ feelings or charity work or any kind of endeavor that might involve selfless giving. She adored luxuries, adulation and being cosseted, not necessarily in that order.