The Princess Swap

11.

It took a few days for me to conclude it would take more than a single smack to get the Prince to drop his despicable behaviour. If anything, he had gotten worse. The illusion I had about his relationship with the princess had long shattered.

He was surly, arrogant, rude and altogether disagreeable. He went out of his way to make me hate him and he succeeded. I pitied the Princess then. I really did. She would spend the rest of her life living with such a rude man who took pleasure in shutting her up at every second, then proceeding to ridicule her.

Being a Princess didn’t turn out all fun and games as I expected. I found that people did not hear me. It irked and scared me at the same time. If people would not listen to someone as influential as the Princess, then I had no hope.

And it did not sit well with me.

His hands enveloped mine as we strode into the king’s throne room where his parents sat, shoulders back and form relaxed, looking regal and respectable in their attires. We stopped about a foot away from the stairs to the throne and on cue, he bowed. I took that as my cue to curtsey.

“Oh, dear.” I heard someone say. The king nodded in response while his queen continued to stare at me in wonder. It didn’t take a fortune teller to know I missed the mark of royalty, fell short of the perfection expected from all royals.

On a happier note, Marcella wasn’t allowed in here so no one commented on my wretched manners. We took our places besides our monarchs. Myself to the queen’s side and Prince Zion to his father’s.

“We haven’t had time to converse in a while,” The Queen whispered to me. At least, I thought she spoke to me. Her eyes stared forward. No one stood close to us. Behind us was the coat of arms of Karriel as well as our flag, the flag of the Capital and the Alpha Pack’s emblem; a large black wolf head with bared, sharp teeth, mouth open in a menacing growl and a crown exactly like the one the king wore, on the wolf’s head.

The Alpha Pack.

The smallest yet most powerful pack in all of Karriel. The Princess would be the sixth member of the pack if I did not ruin her chances of marrying this arse.

“Ariana, you would tell me if you’re having difficulties adjusting, wouldn’t you? I’m here to help, whenever and on whatever matter, please feel free to reach out to me.”

“Yes, my lady. I’ll be sure to,” I answered, having no plans whatsoever to actually do that.

Being a Princess required as much survival instincts as being Selene, the unranked wolf of Southern Moon.

“Your Majesty.“ She continued to look straight ahead, posture rigid yet relaxed, soft voice caressing my skin, yet firm.

“What?” Two men filled into the room, their heads bowed as they shuffled in, led by two of the king’s guards in their red and white uniforms and ridiculous hats.

“Your Majesty.” They bowed and it clicked.

“I am addressed as Your Majesty, Ariana.” Heat climbed up my chest and splotched the fair skin of the princess.

Mistakes.

Lots and lots of them. An unending string of saying the wrong things, curtsying the wrong way and to the wrong people. A woman had stood talking to Marcella once while I approached, dressed in such expensive jewellery, stood with such grace, I felt she must be a royal of some sorts. And what to do if not curtsy at my betters?

Marcella had tinged an ugly red. Turned out the woman was nothing more than the Luna of a rich Alpha who had no relevance to the king. Her wealth could not be compared to the Crown’s but I had foolishly deferred to her and earned myself a good scolding.

“We must have a long chat soon. Your behaviour worries me,” She whispered.

“Emissaries from the South.” I perked up as the men were introduced. I came from the South, as did the Princess. Although I came from a small, unnamed place, abandoned due to flood.

 An arrangement of velvet stools spread out to the king’s left but he offered none to the men so they continued to stand, their heads bowed. One of them had sweat soaking his beige shirt.

“Oh, that. I’m deeply sorry. My mind feels like chaff this period. Any small wind and it’s scattered. You know, with the wedding less than two months away, I’m anxious about so many things.”

It became my go-to lie. When I did the wrong thing, something I did up to twenty times every day, I faked a nervous laugh and chalked it up to wedding jitters. The only explanation for the sudden, unexplainable lack of manners of the Princess.

“It’s why we must have a chat. I will send for you this evening. Please, do not schedule anything with Zion for this evening.” She adjusted in her seat and gave the men her full attention.

Whatever the king was saying took the chill out of the room. The men sweated buckets, shuffling their feet. The Queen adjusted herself in her seat again while I tried to hide in mine. The king’s anger made the air tense. The force of it knocked the breath from my lungs. I did not have a wolf yet but I had instincts and they pushed at me to flee from the terrible danger that mounted around us.

One of the men stuttered something.

A growl that made the hair on my skin stand rent the atmosphere and cut him short. I cursed myself for not listening, for wallowing too deep in my thoughts to miss what it could be that would enrage the king like this. Whatever it was, whatever had been said, I would not wish for even my enemy to repeat it. The sound made my palms clammy and my neck itch.

“Get out.” I blinked.

I couldn’t see him from where I sat, not without leaning forward in an undignified manner, but I had heard his voice every morning, every afternoon and every night. Made to spend a distasteful amount of time in his presence, the Prince’s voice had become more familiar to me than the Princess’

It wasn’t the king’s anger that triggered the chill in my blood.

The men scurried out of the throne room, some of the guards looking like they wished to hurry away too. My heart still pounded, the growl still rumbling from his chest like an explosion building momentum.

“You didn’t let him finish,” The king said, voice steady but strung tight as he addressed his still growling son.

It took a while to calm his wolf and stop his growling. When he spoke, his voice came out as a tight that caused a chill down my spine. I thought I had seen the worst of him, I assumed he couldn’t be any more than a spoilt prince. Listening to him b***h almost made me forget the reputation that preceded him.

“Any more of that crap and I would have ripped his tongue from his throat.” He meant every word, every syllable, he uttered.

Prince Zion wasn’t just a prince. Not just an alpha. Not just our next king. His reputation had nothing to do with his station. He still stood as the most ruthless prince Karriel had seen in centuries. That  was his reputation. He stood undefeated in war.

I let myself lean forward then. Who would notice me being undignified when even the queen fidgeted in her seat? I leaned forward to catch his legs bouncing up and down, his fingers tapping his thigh.

“If you are to be king, then you must listen.” The king called, no trace of any emotions in his words.

“I listened!” He snapped. “I listened well enough. I listened to those piece of s**t stand here and insult my family!” He exploded.

“Zion –“

“Hell, I’m not done with them.” With that, he flew out of the seat. Despite his mother calling at him, he stalked out of the throne room, after the men who I never listened to, to do goddess only knows what.

“One of these days, we must let him preside over issues while we sit at the side-line. We should let him do some ruling with his queen before we step aside for them.” The king was saying but all I heard, all I felt, was the Queen’s hand squeezing mine on my lap. All I heard were her soft words and the blood rushing to my head.

“Calm your prince, my princess.” She whispered.

I registered the words. Of course, I did. They registered at a small corner of my mind which had been thrown off by the terror that sipped in through my pores from the Prince’s anger and froze my blood.

Whether I liked it or not, I felt fear snake up my arms.

Being unranked meant having no wolf. A child of two shifters who had failed to shift like their peers.

Wolves started to shift at thirteen. Betas were always the first to shift, at around thirteen to fourteen years. I never heard of a Beta shifting after their fifteenth birthday. They were early bloomers. Omegas shifted a little later, sometime at their seventeenth birthday. Alphas shifted whenever they felt like it, but they almost always shifted early, depending on their strength. The stronger ones shifted faster. The others shifted around fifteen.

At nineteen, I hadn’t shifted. I had four months till my twentieth birthday, after which I would go from unranked to wolfless. Then I would have to be registered to continue living in Karriel. Karriel belonged to werewolves. Any other specie in it had to be registered.

I had no rank. Yet a lot of people labelled me to be an Omega. It meant that I felt things a little differently. An Omega wolf would pick out the smallest emotion. The stronger the force of the emotion, the harder it hit an omega.

I believed myself to be an Omega then.

No other person, excluding a few guards, seemed to be as shaken up as me.

“Calm your Prince and find me this evening.” The Queen let go of my hand. What other option did I have than to obey? For a split second, I entertained the thought of pretending not to hear her but my legs were climbing down the stairs to the throne before I knew it.

Something warred inside of me, making my heart beat faster. I followed the essence of his anger through unfamiliar corridors, all the way down the set of spiralling stairs to the ground floor, bumping into people, ignoring bows and curtseys and greetings as I went.

I saw them a few feet away from the entrance of the castle. People paused as the Prince hijacked one of the men by his shirt, lifting him with his back pressed against a wall. No one even tried to stop the Prince from whatever he planned to do to the man squirming in his hold.

“When I speak, I expect a clear answer.” He was saying as I hurried forward.

“P – Prince Zion, it – they are not m – my words. I am only a – a me –“ He wasn’t going to finish his sentence. Not with the increased rage in the air. Not with Zion’s hands tightening further on his shirt.

“Zion.” I could have yelled. It could have been a whisper. I cannot say. But I called his name and he paused.

The man he held up looked – he looked familiar.

When the Prince turned to me with burning red eyes that spelt doom, I paused. The same emotion racked through me. I paused to consider why I would be afraid of a man getting pummelled.

That – It wasn’t fear that made my heart race. I was upset. Angry even.