The Rejected Wolf Princess

Pain is Beauty

Evie’s POV

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me on a job well done?”

The tourney is over. I’m a bit flushed with wine and full with quail, duck, and all the other fine foods that were served to us, and as a result, I haven’t said much to my bodyguard as he walked me back to my room. We’re nearly there now.

“Congratulations,” I tell Ty dryly. “You certainly maim and injure well.”

“Not as well as Prince Charming. That last arm he took off… Whose was that, again? His own Beta?”

Technically, it was Tristan's father’s Beta. It was a surprise to all of us, I’ll admit, when his wolf bit the poor Beta’s arm clean off. Then again, neither Ty nor Tristan was responsible for any of the three deaths that occurred in the pits today. Gruesome sport, tourneys.

“You’re both winners,” I tell Ty with a yawn. “You should both be proud.”

“Especially the one with the princess’ favor,” he says with a wink.

I hate it when Ty does that—winks at me. Teases me. It’d be one thing if he was flirting with me. Lots of the male Omegas and commonfolk in the castle do it to me in a respectful way, and I don’t mind that. With Ty, though…

Well, it doesn’t feel like he’s flirting with me. It just feels like he’s making fun of me. And I don’t much care for it.

“Marisa’s waiting for me inside,” I tell him when we reach the door. “I’ll knock if I go out again.”

That’s the rule with Ty. He was given the room next-door to me, and I was instructed to knock and inform him anytime I go anywhere. There’s always a guard stationed within a stone’s throw of my door anyway, of course—oftentimes Ty himself—but those guards are stationary, whereas Ty goes where I go.

“Right,” he says with a hint of distaste. He’s never cared for Marisa. “Don’t have too much fun.”

And with that, he slinks off to his room.

I heave a sigh as I open the door to my room, glad to be rid of him. Marisa is bustling about my room, preparing a bath and lighting candles in preparation for dark. She offers me a guarded smile when she sees me, which tells me she’s probably still sour over my having blamed her for my lateness earlier.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “About earlier. If Tristan wasn’t there, obviously I would have taken the fall. You understand, right?”

To my surprise, her expression doesn’t suggest that she understands. Strange, since it certainly wasn’t the first time I’ve treated her unfairly, and she usually lets it roll right off.

She doesn’t say it, though. She just smiles a thin-lipped smile, says, “No need to apologize, Princess,” and comes over to help me undress.

Sensing that she needs to be cheered up, I decide to direct the conversation toward my date with Tristan. Marisa has always loved to gossip. “So, what do you think I should wear to this dinner I have at Castle Gibbous?”

She helps me step out of the gown and lays it out on the bed before answering, “I’ve already spoken with the dressmaker—she’ll have something new prepared for you by then. Blue, since that is the color of the Gibbous Pack.”

I frown. I really prefer pink and purple, but I suppose it’s the right thing to do if it’ll make Tristan happy. Thankfully, she undoes the laces of my corset at that point, allowing me to breathe properly for the first time since this morning, and my frown fades.

“I don’t know why I wear that thing,” I mutter as I follow her into the washroom, where I sink back into the tub. “Sort of like subjecting myself to torture, isn’t it?”

She laughs. “Pain is beauty, they say. Lord Tristan certainly couldn’t keep his eyes off certain… parts of you today.”

My eyes bulge in surprise. I don’t know whether to reprimand her for being so crass or insist on more details. I settle for the latter. “Really?”

“Oh, certainly. Not that it’s any surprise, if you’ll pardon my saying so, Princess. You have the sort of body that turns all the men’s heads; most are just too afraid to gawk given, you know… your status.”

My cheeks are starting to burn, and I’m not sure whether it’s with pleasure or embarrassment. “Bit on the skinny side, though, aren’t I?” I ask her, glancing down at myself. “Don’t men like curves like yours?”

She snorts. “In the bedroom, perhaps. On a pedestal, though? To show the world?”

I’m not sure I like the sound of that, nor that I understand it fully. “But… when the time comes for me to marry Tristan… won’t I be in the bedroom with him?”

She laughs, which, of course, makes my cheeks burn harder. “Of course you will, Princess. And you’ve a body that will satisfy him there, too, I’m sure. I simply mean to say that the sorts of pleasures a man like Lord Tristan might find in a body like mine, he’s probably already found.”

I’m not sure I could be any redder at this point. I’m starting to feel lightheaded. How hot did she make this water? She’s already started washing my hair, or else I’d insist on getting out. “You mean to suggest that he’s been… promiscuous… with other women?”

“Oh, I’m quite sure of it.” Seeing my horrified expression, she adds quickly, “It’s perfectly normal behavior, Princess, especially for a handsome young lord like him! Soldiers, too—knights—probably that moody bodyguard of yours, even.” She wrinkles her nose. “Though I’m not sure who would be willing to bed a traitor, handsome as he may be.”

I really don’t want to think about Ty “bedding” anyone—not that thinking of my future husband bedding someone is any better. “But… I thought fornication before marriage was forbidden. I thought it ruined the reputation of the woman in question. How are all these men finding willing partners?”

Marisa still looks amused, which I find quite annoying. “For noblewomen, I suppose that’s true to some extent. For princesses, it’s certainly true. For the rest of us, though, it’s fairly commonplace.”

“What about the sacred connection between true mates? Don’t we owe it to our true mates to save ourselves?”

“Depends on the situation. Lord Tristan, for example, has known you were his true mate for how long now—two years? Would you really expect a man like him to wait two years to give in to the more carnal needs of his wolf?”

Until now, I certainly would have. Now I don’t know what to think.

“You’ll understand when your wolf awakens, Princess,” she explains as she rinses my hair. “You may even start to understand sooner than that; it tends to creep up on you about a fortnight beforehand.”

I’m not sure I want to understand. I step dramatically out of the tub and reach for my robe without waiting for her to hand it to me.

“Forgive me if I’ve overstepped,” she says with a polite bow of her head. “That being said, should you ever have… questions… about the feelings you start experiencing, please feel free to come to me, Highness. I might be able to help.”

What she really means by that, I realize as I stare back at her in shock, is that she, too, has been promiscuous before marriage.

And just like that, I realize just how little I know about anything.