Page 2 of Wolfkissed
“Nothing wrong with being pale.”
“Pale like the fae,” I whisper and cradle the pearls in my palms, cool and smooth like tears. “Like my fate.”
“Don’t be so morose, my lady.” Della takes the earrings from my hands and hangs them on my ears, then snaps the necklacearound my neck, over the collar, where it hangs together with my ever-present silver locket. “You have always been a fighter.”
I shoot her a surprised look—I don’t ever recall her saying such things to me. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“No.” She lifts the crystal phial of rose and jasmine perfume and dabs some on my wrists. “I was referring to the past.”
“I know.” I fight my self-directed irritation. I’m seeing omens where there are none, because the future scares me. Knowing I survived the past doesn’t make me feel any more optimistic about my upcoming marriage. My gut feeling is that I should run away.
My rational mind tells me not to be a fool. I’m a spoilt nobleman’s daughter, raised in luxury and the arts. I’ve been groomed for this role all my life, more so since my father passed away and my mother remarried. Even more so since she passed away as well, leaving my stepfather in charge. He immediately recognized the advantage of marrying me off to Lord Eorl.
See, Lord Eorl signed a contract with my stepfather promising to bring fertility back to our barren lands through Crown-approved green magic. Oh, he’s human, but knows fae who will do his bidding.
At least, I’m not being pawned off to a fae lord, which is quickly becoming a fashion—human brides sold to fae grooms. Still, my stepfather managed to make a profit out of me.
He made me useful. His damaged stepdaughter. Useful to himself, his wife and daughter, to everyone living in this manor and on its lands, lands that would have become mine by right, only I’m an orphan, scarred inside and out, and a woman. Despite the heroines dotting our history, I’m still underprivileged and in need of a husband to support me.
And I should, apparently, be grateful for having found one…
The manor is as noisy as a hive, and just as busy. Liveried servants pass us by, carrying trays and deep bowls of steaming food. Harried-looking maids rush down the hallways, chattering among themselves, their cheeks flushed, arms full of crockery.
Della hurries after me as I make my way down the stairs. Together we walk into the great hall with its huge fireplace that’s always lit and the black chandelier swinging in the middle, decorated with curling horns said to be trophies from dark fae hunts.
The hall is lined with long tables and benches, and the servants are already laying the dishes and silverware, placing the food on a separate table near the kitchen door.
The best dishes, best silverware, the silver goblets, I note as I make my way through the hall, heading for the end where the family sits. Stepfather has gone all out.
This much effort can’t be just for the House of Fireflies. The human Houses attending the banquet are on a par with the fae Houses, if not richer.
Anyway, the point is… Who else is Stepfather expecting tonight?
I try not to let the unknown affect me, though I’ve been a mess since the attack. Granted, it was many years ago, nearly a decade, but sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday, and I crave my routine and safe structures.
A decade later, and I can still see my mother’s lacerated body sprawled in this very hall as I was carried away, screaming and kicking. Carried away by the monsters. I clench my hands, nails biting into my palms, the small sting staving off the panic.
You’re safe now,I tell myself.Here is safe. Nobody can carry you away again. We have guards and patrols. They won’t catch us off guard a second time.
“My lady,” Della says from behind me, and I realize I’ve stopped in my tracks. “Do you have any need of me, or shall I go help with the serving?”
I wave her away, still disoriented from the memories of that terrible day, then start determinedly toward my seat. I already see my stepfather standing there, talking to one of his close friends, Lord Pavander from the capital, Siris, come all the way here to grace us with his stinky presence.
Could he be the one Stepfather is trying to impress? It’s possible.
I hesitate before approaching. They don’t like women hanging around them, unless it’s pretty women they invited and who make them look good. I like listening in to conversations about interesting things like the farms, the trade, the people, but tonight I’d like not to draw Stepfather’s ire toward me. Not with so many people watching.
I won’t be here for much longer, anyway. I’m set to travel soon, maybe as soon as in the next few months. All this will be behind me, exchanged for whatever awaits me across the plains.
More people are standing or sitting about, talking and drinking wine. And what about the hunting party and all the ruckus they were making earlier? They are nowhere to be seen, which means they still haven’t entered the manor.
I smooth my hands over my gown and start toward my stepfamily. Heads turn, gazes following me.
“The Frost Princess,” I hear people whisper. “She’s here.”
I purposefully ignore them and the stupid nickname. It’s stuck on me for years now, ever since I grew into a woman and they realized I wasn’t going to get rid of my high collars and long sleeves, my aversion to touching, and silly small talk.
That I was never going to become like them or turn into the person they expected me to be.
