A Throne of Fangs

9 - A Pawn for A Princess

Once the crowd was dismissed to go back to participating in the revelry around them, he loosened his grip on my shoulder. The king and queen turned to us, their backs on my father. Thankfully, Bethany wasn’t up on stage with him. I didn’t think I could handle that level of insult.

“The wedding will be held in the late morning to give those a chance to recover from this evening,” Queen Marigold said. “Then there will be a grander party, and you two can complete the bedding. After that, you will officially be the princess,” she said without any emotion as if reading off a list.

“We are happy to have you here,” The King said, his eyes were warm and it made his words seem somewhat true.

“It’s an honor,” I replied, lowering my head.

“Once the festivities are complete, you will settle into life here.” The Queen took the conversation again. “You’ll be expected to maintain a certain dignity at all times.” She finally looked at me, her eyes hollow. I felt as if she could see through me. She unnerved me.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Ms. Thatcher will see to teaching you how the court works. I, along with some ladies chosen by me, will take charge of training you in the ways of nobility. That is above Ms. Thatcher's station.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty; I look forward to it.” I tried to smile at her. She regarded me over her nose, her lips in a thin, almost disgusted line. “You were chosen to be here. You will live up to our name.” She turned on the spot, her golden skirts swishing behind her.

She chose me, I thought. Maybe I wasn’t living up to whatever expectation she set for this role in her mind. I did not know, or quite possibly, she heard the butthole rumor.

“She is just nervous,” The King explained, but his tone was formal. I could not keep up with these people. I hoped they would drop some of the formalities when we weren’t on display. “Enjoy the festivities.”

He left us, and finally, I was alone with the man I was going to marry. I turned to my betrothed to speak to him. I hoped I could get something from his words. Something that showed me he was a real person, and whatever I had now just felt from him was in my head.

I knew I was being naive, I knew that, but I also knew, beyond a doubt, that if I didn’t keep granting myself these small chances to hope, to pretend, I would lose the fraying grip that held me partially composed. And, beyond all else, I was terrified of the person that would seep out if I lost that hold.

He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, his eyes focused behind me, over me, towards the party. “Christian,” I said, “I’m-”

“Prince Christian,” he responded, his gold-grey eyes locking on mine.

My cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I tried to hide the sting of embarrassment under a timid smile.

“After tomorrow, you may address me informally, but not yet,” he practically commanded.

“Of course, Your Highness, I apologize.” I bowed my head and took a breath through my nose, attempting to calm the confusion and hurt. He didn’t say anything else; just moved his eyes away from my face, so I tried once more. “I just hoped I would get a chance to talk to you before the wedding,” I said.

“What do you want to say?” He was looking over me now.

“Nothing in particular,” I responded calmly, even though I was beginning to get frustrated. “I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other a small bit before we were to be wed.”

“Why get to know each other now?” he asked, still not looking at me. “After tomorrow, we have time for that part.”

“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” I asked him. My voice was harder than before, but I kept my anger from it.

He froze and locked his gaze on me, his face hard yet wary. “What?”

“It is only that I am speaking, and I’m unsure how things are done in The South, but where I’m from, it is polite to look at the person you are talking to.” I folded my hands over my dress and gave him an airy smile.

“You are talking to me; this is not a conversation,” he pointed out.

I huffed. “Do you have a problem with me personally?” I asked. “I do not wish to be here either, but I have decided to give you grace and not take any resentment or anger out on you, knowing you are also forced into this situation. Understand that we are both servants to the crown.”

His face settled into a mask of steel, but I could almost feel the rage beneath it. Was this the power of the royals that was spoken about? It was unnerving.

“You do not wish to be here?” he asked slowly, his voice cold. It sent a shiver through me I didn’t think I fully suppressed.

“If I were allowed to have a wish, this would not be it,” I explained. His eyes narrowed, and I swallowed. “But my needs and wants do not matter. I am here as a servant for my King, for the crown of wolves,” I corrected automatically.

I thought of what I did not say, what I could not say to the man that I was going to be attached to for the rest of my days. That I wanted to go home. My heart felt heavy; I was gone for a day, and the place where I was born already felt so foreign, almost as foreign as these castle walls did.

His jaw ticked. “I do want to be here,” he responded.

I blinked. “You do want to be getting married?” I asked, half expecting him to be talking about the party he seemed so desperate to go and enjoy.

“Yes,” he responded in a tone that made me sure he thought I held no intelligence.

“It’s only that I thought you were forced into this by your parents?”

“You know nothing about this, about me,” he scoffed.

“That is exactly my point, dear betrothed. I am trying to get to know you before we are to be wed.”

His lips curled into a condescending smile. “So…you don’t want to be here.” He tilted his head, looking down at me. “I have to say I am surprised. This is the best arrangement you will ever have.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged. “I have heard that before.”

“I am intrigued. What else could you want? You will be waited on hand and food while you sit in your pretty dresses in a palace.” He laughed... at me before lowering his voice to say, “You are edging the line of ungrateful.” His words held warning and command.

One that I intended to ignore.

“I am not saying I am not honored by the position I now find myself in,” I responded. “Since we are getting to know each other, I will share another wish of mine.” I took a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact. “I would appreciate it if you kept threats out of our relationship, whatever that is to consist of.” His eyes widened until I added, “We are to be equals.”

He tipped his head back, and booming laughter rippled from him so loudly that those near enough to the stage noticed. Most looked at us, well, at him, lovingly as if their prince’s happiness was their own. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

After he calmed down, he said, “You will be my princess.” As if that were an explanation.

That stupid smile that arose from him finding something truly interesting, something as comical as us being equals, never left his face. I wanted to lean forward and wipe it off myself. My hands twitched at the thought, and I clasped them together in a demure way I saw the ladies do here every time their hands were unoccupied.

“And I will hold a royal title, even if I was not born into it,” I retorted. “I expect you to treat me as the royal I will become.”

“Princes outrank princesses.” He shook his head. His golden hair danced under the candlelight; it disgusted me. I had found him so unearthly beautiful moments before, but he was foul.

“Do they?” I asked.

“You have much to learn,” he admonished and seemed like he was about to walk away.

“You asked me a question,” I said, and he stopped his shifting feet. “You asked what I would rather be doing.” I had his unbroken attention again, but I knew how fleeting that was. “I was set to take over The Western Pack; it was what I had trained for my entire life. That is what I would want to do. That is what I want to do. To lead.”

It was the only thing that got me out of bed on those dreary mornings after my mother died, where grief and destitution begged to pull me under. I was a leader of my pack. I had to be there for them even if I couldn’t be there for myself.

“You will be a princess.” He sounded exasperated. “You will have power.”

“Will I have duties?” I asked, trying to keep any flair of excitement out of my voice.

“Of course.” His eyes strayed behind me again. “You’ll manage the ladies, help choose some redecorations, small ones, until my mother officially retires, maybe even give your input on banquets, and be a big sway in the fashions worn at court.”

I stared at him until he looked back. “Actual duties,” I clarified. “Leadership, decision-making for anything that will make an impact outside of the castle.”

He blinked. “That is for me to do. You are to support me.”

I nodded, my stomach twisted again and again into a tight coil. “Forgive me; I am trying to come to terms with how my life has changed.”

“Yes, but changed for the better.” He frowned and then added, “Usually, this would be over a few months. It is natural for you to need some time to adjust.” He seemed to actually understand that, at least. It was the first time I felt my words got through to him during this entire conversation.

“I am away from home,” I explained, trying to keep the peace. “I have lost my future title at that home. I’m just trying to…” I tried to search for the right words. “Make sense of it.” I offered him a smile.

“Yes, you were off limits because of that,” he mused.

My smile dropped along with my stomach. “What do you mean?”

“You were the sole heir to The Western Pack, so you were not an option before. Something about shifting families or politics.” He waved his hand as if those words did not shatter the very ground beneath me.

My anger flared; I didn’t realize that I could not have been chosen for him until Bethany had gotten pregnant. She had taken everything from me. It twisted my rage deep inside me.

“But now you’re not,” he added.

“Clearly,” I responded dryly; I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I knew I was toeing the line of insubordination, but I could not find the ability to care. It was hard enough to breathe.

He huffed out of his nose, half amused, half annoyed. “Your life will be easy here. If I’m being honest, we are talking in circles, and I am starting to tire of this.”

“If I am being honest with my future husband and not The Prince, I will tell you that I do not wish for an easy life,” I seethed, my hands balling at my sides. “I wish for one filled with purpose. My entire life up until this point has been spent preparing for a position of power.”

“You will adjust,” he responded. “You will have to. There were quite a few others that my mother favored over you, so you will live up to the task.” It wasn’t a question. “That will give you something to do that will not be easy: to sway her favor.”

My brows furrowed as I tried to make sense of that. “If your mother favored others, why am I here?” I asked.

His gold-gray eyes slid to mine. “Because I chose you.”