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Louisa's Lamentations (Book 4 of The Sovereign Series)

Prologue 

“King Franz, you must let our children mate. Rion has waited over 700 years for his female and can wait no longer!” King Alaric stood strong amongst the various shifters in the room, all of noble birth or guards to the king of the wolves, Franz Reifenberg.

King Alaric Soilleir had been king of the fae for what seemed like millennia, and he wasn’t about to see his son and heir lose his she-wolf mate. Not because of some stupid class discrimination. Though species usually only ever mated with their like, ever since the first king of wolves had taken a female who was a sorceress, the fae and wolves crossed over every once in a long while.

“Nonsense,” Franz spoke. “Klara will have a mate through the Mondblume Ceremony, just like her older brothers. Like all royalty does.”

Alaric was becoming desperate for his son. The two younger folk had met by chance and felt the first signs of the mating pull immediately. Rion had confided in due course that he was no shifter, not that Klara couldn’t tell. There was something magical, otherworldly about the handsome young man. Or at least the fae prince had looked young, be he was over 7 centuries old when he came upon his female.

“She won’t.” In Alaric’s voice was a warning. “I’ve seen what can happen and have read it the stars. They tell—”

“They tell you nothing—a pittance at most.” Franz waved him away drolly. “You are on my island as an ally, Alaric. Do not test my hospitality by forcing this ridiculousness. Klara will forget all about your son once she is mated to another. She won’t—”

“She will not want another.” The fae king was firm. “You forbid this and you will regret it. You will lose your daughter, possibly in the most decisive of ways.”

Franz had heard enough. He gestured to the guards who moved forward, sure that the spell the sorceress, Mirella, had wound around the palace would keep the fae’s magic from working. Alaric seemed to know it as well, and his face broke from its usual stern demeanor.

“Franz, I beg you.” He knelt on one leg and bent his head. “Don’t do this to my son. He will be king once he has his mate, and your daughter will be his queen. There will be many generations to come from them. Your Klara will never be happy without him.”

“Leave, Alaric, before I make you leave.”

His tone brooked no argument, and the fae king stood tall once again and snapped his fingers once. The crown jewels—the very ones he had gifted to the werewolf king in front of him on his wedding day to Queen Lillith—appeared from thin air. Franz shot to his feet as if to make towards Alaric, but froze.

“I pity you and your closeminded ways, Franz. You have the opportunity to mend the thready relationship between our kind, and yet you mock the bond my people hold so sacred. Your Mondblume potion is a mockery, a sham. You use it so you may cull out the weak and force a bond between two that was never meant to happen. You can write all the charters and articles you please, but it will never compare to the true mate’s bond. You owe it to you family.” He turned to his son, Rionnag, and nodded his head. “We take back our gift to you on your nuptials. You have betrayed us by denying my kin what was meant for him, so we take back our goodwill toward you in turn. Goodbye.”

The two men vanished before their eyes, but not before Queen Lilith saw the younger man’s face. It had broken wide open as a tear spilled down his cheek. Her hand immediately came up to her heart as she turned to her husband, looking pained.

“Franz, the boy looked so sad. My heart weeps for him.”

The king patted her arm, trying to soothe his emotional female. Lil had always been soft at heart when it came to relationships. She even held festive parties on the mainland once a year to celebrate all the mates that had bonded that year. It was a sort of wedding reception for the town, and everyone drank and were quite merry. Queen Lilith was the most popular of all the royalty, and her king was absolutely smitten with her since the day they had met at his Coming of Age Ball.

“There, there, my love,” He cooed softly to her. “The boy will be alright, and Klara will be choosing her mate come this time next week. She will have forgotten all about Rion by then and will instead choose one of our own kind.” He kissed her lips gently, and the little flip her heart did was not the good, sweet type you got that warmed your chest. It was the kind that foretold of tragedy, a broken heart, sometimes even more…

She tried to quell the horrible feeling that something was very wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

But by the end of the night, her whole world would be turned upside down.

***

“I’m sorry, my love,” Rion crooned to Klara from her bedroom window. “Your father won’t allow it, and I only have a few moments left to be with you.”

“He has to!” Klara sounded depleted as Rion’s light blue eyes flickered a slate grey as he watched her face droop with worry. “He can’t keep mates from bonding. It’s unreasonable and so, so wrong.”

Rion understood her plight. Though she could take another to wed and mate with, she had tasted what the true bond felt like, and it would ultimately pale in contrast to the forced one of the Mondlume elixir. And though wolves lived longer than humans, fae were nearly immortal, and there would one day be a time that Klara was gone from this world if she did not mate with future faerie king.

He wanted to sob at the thought of a world without Klara, though he knew that in time, his fate would grant him another female. If that went awry, then another. It would take hundreds of years, but it would happen.

Until then, he would always mourn for his Klara, the woman who was meant to be his but was denied due to disgusting intolerance.

He pressed his lips to her cheek, feeling as his mouth became wet with his Klara’s tears. The girl choked out a sob, and her shoulder shuddered beneath his strong hands.

He couldn’t bear to linger there anymore, to be with her, but never to be a part of her. He would have to say goodbye forever, for the spell that the sorceress cast wouldn’t allow him to do what he wanted and whisk her away to be with him forever.

He turned aside, closing his eyes as he heard her weep behind him. He didn’t want his last visual to be of her crying. He wanted to remember her laughing, like she did when they first met months ago.

As he reappeared at his father’s side on the mainland, he saw the somber looks on his siblings’ faces. All but one was mated now, and he was sure to find his soon enough. He had come of age recently, and it usually took faerie royalty no longer than a few years of maturation to find their ‘gràdhaich’, or beloved.

He wished his last brother better luck than he had.

***

Klara paced her floor, her thumbnail wedged in between her teeth as she nibbled it down to a nub. Rion had left only hours ago, but already the pain in her chest was increasing. She believed it meant he was getting further away from her, but as this was the first time a royal had found a true mate since…well, maybe forever, she had no one to ask if her heart was breaking, or if she was simply feeling the after-effects of crying uncontrollably for hours.

Still, her tears had never truly stopped, and they dribbled down to her chin even after she ceased attempting to wipe them away.

She ached. It felt like an injury that bloomed from her heart, the small angry muscle that felt like it was being stabbed by a million tiny needles to bleed out, and she was tired of crying herself dry every few minutes. One wave would pass, only to bubble up anew ten or twenty minutes later.

Klara had to speak with her father.

She made her way towards the east wing, determined to convince him to let her wed and mate with Rion, her true other half. If he wouldn’t allow it, she didn’t know what she would do, only that it would be severe enough to make him regret denying her.

Knocking on the glossy oak door that let to his boudoir, she was unsurprised when her mother answered it and welcomed her in with soft, sad smile.

“My darling, please come in. Your father—”

“I’m here, liebchen. Just washing up.” He was bent over the water basin and scrubbing at his beard with his fingers.

Klara stepped inside the room, stalking towards her father boldly. She was convinced she could persuade him to let her be with Rion. He just had to let her, and he’d never denied her before this.

“Father, why won’t you let me be with Rion? He is a good, honest man who—”

“Is a faerie,” the kind cut in. “We mate like with like, and you will be wed to a shifter if it’s the last thing I see to before I die.”

She pointed at his chest, poking him with the finger that had been recently in her mouth. “I will die if you don’t let me be with him. Already I can feel my heart shattering the further away he moves from me. It’s like an angry fist is squeezing it, tiny pinpricks stabbing into it like pincushion. It—”

“Will go away like all other bonds as far as the Mondblume is concerned. This is what has been done for generations, my pet. Ever since my grandfather’s grandather’s grandfather was young. It is what is to be done and will be done.” He stopped. “Next week at your 21st birthday. Now run along, my sweetling, and get some rest. You have final dress fittings tomorrow, and I’ll have no more of your backtalk.”

Klara’s cheeks flamed red as an angry s***h cut across her face in her ire. She turned on her heels, muttering to herself.

“We will see who regrets this most, father. You all will see!” She stomped out of the door, her skirts swishing being her.

“What does she mean, Franz?” His wife looked to him as he patted his face dry with a clean cloth.

“Nothing, my pet. She will get over it in a few days. She just needs some rest and a fresh face tomorrow.”

Lilith smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it.

And she laid awake for what seemed like hours until she heard a frightful scream in the middle of the night, making her bolt upright in her bed.

“Dear one,” Franz mumbled from his pillow. “What was that? And how late is it?”

Lillith had no clue, but got up from her bed to seek out the source of the disturbance. She didn’t have to wait long as a maid in her nightgown scurried down the hall as soon as she swept open the door.

“Your Highness, you must hurry!” the young female with the stark wide eyes said to her. “Klara has fallen from the roof of the palace onto the flagstones on the path through the garden. She’s close to death!”

Lillith’s heart leaped into a gallop at the maid’s words, and she left behind her husband to hurry down to the grounds in nothing but her dressing gown to cover her night apparel.

She scurried down the steps to the main floor, shuffling through to the wide doors that let into the back gardens. A few other shifters surrounded a crumpled body, the light from a swinging lantern shining over the blond head of her daughter.

Only it wasn’t blond at all, but crimson in color.

Blood.

Lilith screamed as the guards moved away, her knees cracking onto the stones as her hands came out to cup her daughter’s face.

As tears spilled down the queen’s cheeks, Klara’s eyes fluttered open, looking unseeing on her mother. She was simply going by her gentle touch.

“Mutter,” the girl whispered, smiling softly up at her. “So…so bright here. Tell him…tell Rion, I love him…always will.” Blood gurgled up and dripped over the side of her mouth. “Tell him…I’m free.”

Klara’s eyes clouded over as the last rasp of her breath escaped, her chest stilling for good as her mother wept over the dead body. Not caring about the state of her robes, she pulled Klara’s head onto her lap as she rocked back and forth until the tears could no longer come.

Soon, a man came over, the pack physician, and he murmured that he would take good care of the body and prepare it for burial. One of the guards took her hands, and, pulling her upright gently, stepped away before  bowing slightly to the King.

Franz’s mouth was open. Alaric had foretold he would lose his daughter. The damned man had  right. He was wrong.

The king looked over at Lilith’s cold countenance and stepped back. In all the time they had been married, she had never looked at him with anything but love, except for the few times she’d berated him as she gave birth to their children. Their three sons and their youngest and only daughter, Klara.

“I will never forgive you for this. Not ever, Franz.”

She stalked past him, whipping her hand out to push his aside when he tried to reach for her.

He was aggrieved, but he couldn’t let that show.

Or let anyone know how much he regretted his dealings with the fae. From henceforth, they would always be enemies.

“Prepare my daughter for burial,” he barked at the physician before jutting his chin at the others. “Instead of a Ball, we will unfortunately be having a wake.”

He turned to the castle and almost broke down weeping for his daughter. The only thing he could think of, though, aside from his hatred of the fae was, ‘what have I done?’

And miles and miles away, Rion shrieked in his bed as he felt the bond between them break, knowing that his little she-wolf mate was gone for good.

1. Masquerade 

Louisa thought that her idea for a masquerade for her Coming of Age Ball was a stroke of genius. She knew she was very much unlike her older brothers when it came to choosing a mate for life. While Kane had been immediately smitten by his Queen Alexandria’s unabashed candor, Kolton infatuated with the ginger-haired beauty Eliza, Kade struck dumb by his demure and loyal servant girl turned princess, Louisa had an inkling that none of those would do for her. For some reason—and as if she had inferred it all along—she knew something different was in store for her.

And she would know it when she found it. It was like a sixth sense.

While her mother looked oddly at her when she had suggested a masked ball, she was only too pleased to oblige since the last input on one her Coming of Age balls had come from the present King, Kane, and it was minimal at best. Finally one of her children seemed content to give their input about what they actually wanted in their ball.

With the information that Louisa’s wish was for a masquerade, she sent off the invitations stating that it was strictly “no mask, no access”. Both women were sure that there would be much talk about the odd request both before and after the ball.

Now they were in the Grand Ballroom with Louisa dancing with another charming male. The man had a nice smile and a pleasantly rumbling voice, but Louisa couldn’t seem to focus on the words he was actually saying. He could have been talking about the weather or airing his political views on the latest Middle Eastern turmoil, but she would have been none the wiser.

No, it was not with this shifter that she was meant to be.

When she didn’t ask him name after their dance, he seemed put-out, but he walked away gracefully only to dance with another female within minutes.

As was the usual, no one would know Louisa was a princess. Even when she’d gone to boarding school years ago it was under an assumed last name. Louisa Reifenberg was called Louisa Crane, an unassuming name if there ever was one. Not even her closest girlfriends were aware of her true identity. It was imperative that they did not, for what if they slipped and let it out? She was sure that once Catelyn and her twin Cherie found out, they would be as shocked as anyone.

Taking a moment to grab a refreshment, she plucked a Madeleine from a plate and nibbled at one corner. Taking a sip of the punch, she was nearly kicked in the gut by an alluring, unusual scent. The briny fragrance of the sea. When she was going to school on the east coast, she had often gone on daytrips to wade in the soft surf and sandy beaches of Cape Cod and Nantucket. The even more remote shores of Martha’s Vineyard were a little harder to get to, but so worth the wait when you were lying on your back and looking at the soaring cliffs behind you.

She had fallen in love with the sounds, smells, and sunshine of a warm day at the beach with good friends and even better memories.

But why did it smell of the ocean? There was no salt water nearby, and the lake’s clear blue was as fresh as you could get.

As soon as it wafted past her nose, the scent was gone with another turn of the crowd as people danced past, laughing and having a good time. That was important to Louisa too. If she could only make one person truly happy with being her mate—or at least one male—she would at least give everyone else a night to remember.

But already, she missed the smell of the sea, and she wandered off in a different direction, away from the punch bowl and the delicate little dainties that many were nibbling on before dinner was to be served.

Her brother Kade came around with Meredith after finishing a dance and nodded to her. “Anyone promising?”

“No. At least not yet.” She frowned. “But the night is still young and I have a feeling something wonderful could happen still.”

She hoped fervently that something would. So far, the evening was a bust, but as she had said, the night was still rife with promise.

If only the promise would hurry the f**k up already.

Kade passed by, and she nodded over to Kolton, her other older brother. Kane and Lexi were in their usual spots as they watched the festivities, right next to her mother and father, Margot Reifenberg happily chatting with Queen Alexandria as her foot tapped to the rhythm of a waltz.

As usual, her father looked bored, but Kane was keeping him entertained somehow, and no one was looking as she slipped outside onto the balcony for a bit of fresh air.

With all the hot bodies behind her, the coolness of the night air was relaxing, and she sucked in some much-needed oxygen into her lungs that wasn’t simply inundated with the scents of strange shifters, expensive colognes, and flowery, cloying perfumes. Natural scents were more her thing, whether it was the crisp air of the morning or the clean fragrance of water as it lapped about the bow of a boat along the lake.

The spring air was always a treat, the odor of fresh blooms closing up for the night before tucking tail and drooping for a snooze. She was glad to have been born in the springtime, the symbol of new beginnings where everything seemed so much brighter and more alive. Green popped up where snow once covered the ground, hiding the dingy brown of dead grass and fallen foliage. Thankfully, there were quite a few fir trees on the island, so the deep greens kept the winter blues away.

Leaning against the concrete bannister, she became alarmed at a movement in her peripheral vision. She turned quickly and watched as a shadowy figure came out from the corner, masked for the ball. She heaved a relieved sigh as the person came forward and smiled.

Tall—maybe 6 feet and 6 inches—he gave her a wide smile, bowing low before putting out his hand. With some reluctance, she thrust hers out as well, intent on shaking his, but he bent down low and placed his lips on the back of it. With his head bent toward her, she could see the light blond strands of his shortly cropped hair before he lifted his head and she was met with cool grey-blue eyes. They reminded her of icicles as they glinted in the cold winter sun.

“Alaric Soilleir, at your service, milady,” he introduced himself in a deep husky timbre. It somehow still held some unknown power, though there was also a beguiling mischievous twinkle in his eyes through the dark scarlet hue of his mask.

“I would give you name as well, but as you know, it’s just not done at Coming of Age balls,” she told him truthfully. What was the point of being discreet in who the princess was when you gave your name out willy-nilly?

“Understandable,” he chuckled lightly. “And no matter. The masquerade was a bit of a switch, though. I wonder why.”

Louisa’s lips twitched, and she wanted to open her mouth and explain. Something about the older man made her think he was a gentleman and not a cad, though he had an almost impish grin that made her want to burst into laughter somehow.

“I’m sure there was good enough reason,” she replied amiably. “Maybe to add to the mystique of the last Coming of Age Ball for this generation of royalty.”

He studied her silently for a moment and blinked once before nodding. “Perhaps.”

“Father, I was—”

The voice was familiar, but what really knocked Louisa nearly off her feet was the smell. Like fresh ocean waves breaking upon shore, she remembered it vaguely from before at the pastry table and turned her whole body as a light tug plucked gently at her solar plexus.

The man stared back at her. With darker blonde locks artfully tossed over one side of his head, he blinked from the older gentleman, Alaric, to Louisa’s gently popped-open mouth. A tongue came out almost surreptitiously to wet his lips, and his eyes flickered lighter, from their cornflower blue to an icy grey that matched his father’s.

Whatever he was to say to his father fell off and was forgotten, though he did speak, bowing deeply to Louisa before she curtseyed back.

“The name is Rionnag Soilleir, milady,” he told her as he straightened his back and a hand drew out in offering to hers. “And I would like to ask you if I may have this next dance.”

A new tune was just starting, and it would be easy to slip back inside and take to the floor. Louisa’s whole body trembled at his voice, and the pulling sensation she felt grew as her feet moved forward.

“Of course. I would be happy to.”

She thought she heard a chuckle from behind her as she stepped back inside, her fingers laced with Rionnag’s before he drew her into his embrace and their bodies swayed on the dance floor. The were silent, and she felt Rionnag’s hand caress the small of her back. The closer they got, the more the twinge in her chest ached to be even closer—closer almost to obscenity.

Halfway through the piece of music, she stole a quick, quivering breath before looking up into the pale blue of Rionnag’s eyes. He had already been gazing down at her.

“What is this?” she asked softly. “Why do I feel so strange? Like something is tugging me toward you and I can’t move away.”

He hummed, stroking up and down her back comfortingly as he took in his own breath of air. “It’s the mating pull—the true kind. The one that royalty has not felt for centuries, being cloistered and relatively alone on this island. The ones they force with a potion that…”

He trailed away, frowning.

“That what?”

He shook his head. “It’s no matter. The true pull of a mate is incomparable to the one made with the moonflower.”

She pondered that for the rest of the dance, her mind all of a flutter until the last strains of the music faded away to polite claps and appreciative nods.

Rionnag bent low over Louisa’s hand and placed his soft lips on the gentle curve between her forefinger and thumb. Leaning in, he whispered into her ear. “Have fun tonight, little mate, for after this evening, no man’s hands will touch your body in any sort of intimate way, and certainly never hold you as close as I will for the rest of our lives.”

He paused as if amused before continuing. “Good to see you again, Louisa.”

With that, Rionnag left a shocked princess gaping after him as he wandered toward the exit to the hallway.

***

Louisa danced until supper, but she couldn’t say she enjoyed it. No other touch gave her the thrill her mates did, though she said all the right things and listened when she had to. By the time dinner was served, she was wondering where the man had wandered off to. She hadn’t seen him since their departure a couple of hours before.

“Who are you looking for, Louisa?” Lexi called as she came over to her side at the table. Though the queen pretended to be only making small talk with a guest, they realized most people were enjoying their meals too much and not listening to what was going on around them. The food at the palace was of a fare far above any they had ever tasted before.

“Nothing—I mean, no one.” She smiled tightly at her oldest sister-in-mating. “I was just wondering when dinner would be over.”

Lexi’s lips tugged up in a knowing smile before they parted. “I suppose that means you’ve made your choice.” The woman almost looked smug.

Rolling her eyes inelegantly, Louisa snorted. “Well, I won’t say one way or the other. I want it to be a surprise to everyone, not just guests.”

Lexi looked a little put-out, but she shrugged her shoulders and moved away after giving her a cheery goodbye.

Louisa sat there, nibbling her Duck L’Orange as she waited for the minutes to tick by until the announcement.

***

“Honored guests, it is with a bit of sadness that I announce the impending mating of my last child and only daughter, Louisa Reifenberg. I know it is customary for the current reigning king to do the honors, but in his stead, Kane has allowed me to speak.”

Louisa moved forward, her eyes scanning the crowd on the sly, looking for Rionnag amongst the throng. Sighing, she hoped he was there somewhere in the crowd. If they were true mates, surely the pull to be close would bring him out of wherever he’d been hiding for a good portion of the evening.

“My daughter, Princess Louisa Reifenberg,” Xavier announced. It caused her to finally take off the fine silk mask she’d been adorning, her eyes blinking into the crowd as a small smile teased at her lips. “Louisa, have you made you selection?”

Selection? It had been made for her, and she almost scoffed.

“I have,” she said clearly, her face once again moving from left to right and taking in faces she had paid little to no attention to since meeting her mate hours ago. “Would Rionnag Soilleir please step forward?”

There was silence as people looked around them, trying to figure out which lucky male was going to be made a future prince. Suddenly, a figured melted from the crowd and walked slowly towards the raised platform, limbs like liquid mercury in a thermometer. Upon meeting the steps, he seemed to slide up them fluidly, one by one. Every motion was poetry, and Louisa felt her heart skip as he strode flawlessly towards her.

He bowed and started to untie the back of his mask before bringing it down from his face. He lifted it up, a lopsided grin turning his already handsome face into one of true beauty.

Louisa gasped quickly as her eyes flew open wide at the man before her.

“You,” she whispered out. “It’s you.”

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