Chapter 2 Chapter 2

I had discovered that there were many forms of torture in life.

Being forced to wear uncomfortable shoes was one.

Being forced to sit through a royal dinner was another.

Being forced to do both at the same time was simply cruel.

I stared at myself in the mirror while Aunt Amara finished braiding my hair, wondering how a person could look so pretty and still feel like they were being prepared for execution.

“Aunt Amara, I don’t want to go,” I complained, tugging at the skirt of my white gown. “I’d much rather throw this thing into the fireplace and spend the evening in the library.”

Amara laughed softly as she worked a small crystal into one of my braids. “Your father would probably have a heart attack.”

“Then maybe he should stop inviting people over for dinners that last longer than some marriages.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’ve been sitting through these dinners since I was old enough to hold a spoon. I’m allowed to be dramatic.”

She shook her head, smiling as she continued working on my hair. Amara was heavily pregnant with her third child, but somehow she still moved around with more patience than anyone else in the palace. She was my favorite aunt for a reason. Unlike most of the adults around me, she didn’t treat me like I was one wrong decision away from destroying the kingdom.

I watched her through the mirror.

“Aunt Amara?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like outside our territory?”

Her hands slowed.

That tiny hesitation caught my attention immediately.

“Sometimes,” she admitted.

I turned slightly in my chair. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. Everyone keeps telling me the world outside is dangerous, but nobody actually tells me what is out there.”

“Because you’re not ready.”

I groaned. “That’s what everyone says.”

“Because it’s true.”

“My mother says the outside world is dark. My father says I have everything I could possibly need right here. You say the world isn’t like the books I read.” I folded my arms. “At this point, I’m beginning to think all of you secretly got together and decided to make my life miserable.”

Amara laughed.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She turned me gently back toward the mirror and finished the braid before placing her hands on my shoulders.

“Astrid, books are wonderful because they let you see places you’ve never been and experience things you’ve never experienced. But they don’t show you everything. There are beautiful places outside these lands, yes, but there is also war, hunger, death, betrayal and people who won’t care that you’re the daughter of a king.”

I stared at my reflection.

“That sounds horrible.”

“It can be.”

“And you’ve been out there?”

Amara’s expression changed.

Just for a second.

I noticed.

“Once.”

My curiosity immediately sharpened.

“Where?”

She smiled mysteriously. “That’s a story for another day.”

I groaned. “Why does everyone keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Making everything sound like some mysterious secret.”

“Because sometimes secrets are better left alone.”

I studied her reflection.

That was definitely not an answer.

I was about to push again when she touched my hair.

“There.”

I looked at myself properly for the first time.

She had woven tiny silver crystals through my long white hair, and they caught the light whenever I moved. The gown she had chosen was simple but elegant, flowing around me without making me feel like I was wearing one of those ridiculous dresses Mother usually preferred.

I turned from side to side.

“Okay,” I admitted. “This isn’t terrible.”

Amara smiled proudly. “I knew you’d like it.”

“I said it wasn’t terrible. Don’t get carried away.”

She laughed and kissed my forehead.

I leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Come on. Your father is waiting.”

I groaned again.

“Maybe if I pretend to be sick—”

“No.”

“Maybe dead?”

“Astrid.”

“Worth a try.”

She shook her head as we left the room.

Four guards were waiting outside.

I looked at them.

Then at Amara.

“Four?”

“You’re a princess.”

“I have two legs. I can run away with either one.”

The guards tried very hard not to laugh.

Amara gave me a warning look.

I smiled sweetly and walked between them.

I wasn’t exactly sure whether I was a princess or a prisoner anymore.

At this point, the difference was starting to feel dangerously small.

Dinner was already underway when we entered the great hall.

My father sat at the head of the table, looking every bit like the terrifying Lycan King everyone outside these walls believed him to be. Alexander never needed to raise his voice to command attention. His presence did that for him.

Beside him sat my mother, Lucy, looking completely unimpressed by whatever political argument my father and Alpha Roman were having.

Alpha Roman of the Dead Lands sat across from them.

I had seen him before, but never this close.

He was intimidating.

Tall, broad, and ridiculously confident, with the kind of presence that made it obvious he was used to people listening when he spoke.

I looked away.

Then looked back.

Just once.

Okay, twice.

Maybe three times.

I wasn’t staring.

I was observing.

There was a difference.

“Stop.”

I nearly choked.

I looked at Amara.

She was trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re staring.”

“I am not.”

“You’ve looked at him six times.”

I lowered my voice. “Could you please stop counting?”

She laughed under her breath as we took our seats.

I immediately focused on my plate.

Unfortunately, Alpha Roman was annoyingly handsome.

It was deeply inconvenient.

I had never actually had a crush on anyone before. The palace wasn’t exactly overflowing with young men my age who were allowed to wander around freely, and the ones who were usually treated me like I was made of glass.

Roman didn’t.

At least, not from what I could tell.

His attention was focused entirely on my father.

“Alexander,” he said, his deep voice carrying across the table, “the western border has become difficult to patrol. We’ve found tracks belonging to creatures that don’t belong anywhere near our territory.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

Creatures?

I looked up.

My father leaned forward slightly. “What kind?”

“We aren’t certain.”

“Then how do you know they crossed from the western side?”

“We found the remains of three hunters.”

The room became noticeably quieter.

I lowered my fork.

Three hunters?

My father exchanged a look with my mother.

“We’ll increase patrols along the border,” he said. “I’ll send additional warriors before the week is over.”

Roman nodded. “That would be wise.”

My mother’s expression remained calm, but I noticed the tension in her shoulders.

I leaned toward her.

“What happened to the hunters?”

She gave me a warning glance.

“Not now.”

Of course.

Not now.

It seemed like nobody ever wanted to tell me anything.

I sat back and listened as the conversation moved toward strengthening the borders and exchanging warriors between territories.

Mother eventually joined in.

“Perhaps we should do more than increase patrols,” she suggested. “Our warriors could train with Roman’s younger wolves. If we’re facing something unfamiliar, sharing information and fighting techniques could help both territories.”

My father considered it.

Roman nodded. “I agree.”

I watched my mother with a small smile.

This was something I admired about her.

She was human, but nobody at this table treated her like she was weak.

My mother had survived a world ruled by werewolves and somehow ended up becoming the woman who could make the Lycan King reconsider his decisions with one sentence.

I wanted that kind of strength.

Not the crown.

Not the title.

That.

The ability to walk into a room and have people listen because of who I was, not because of who my father was.

Unfortunately, the dinner continued.

And continued.

And continued.

By the time dessert arrived, I had mentally died at least three times.

I glanced toward the doors.

Freedom was right there.

I could almost taste it.

All I needed to do was wait until everyone was distracted.

My father was speaking to Roman.

Mother was listening.

Amara was talking to one of the other guests.

Perfect.

I slowly pushed my chair back.

A little.

Then a little more.

Nobody noticed.

I stood.

I took one step.

Then another.

I was almost there when my father’s voice stopped me.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned around.

Every pair of eyes at the table was now on me.

I smiled.

“Bathroom?”

My mother covered her mouth.

Amara looked down at her plate, clearly trying not to laugh.

My father simply stared.

“You’ve been sitting there for less than two hours.”

“Exactly. My legs need exercise.”

“Astrid.”

I sighed.

“Fine. I was leaving.”

“I noticed.”

“Can I go now?”

“No.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

“This is oppression.”

Roman suddenly coughed into his hand.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Was he laughing?

My father pointed toward my chair.

“Sit.”

I returned to my seat with as much dignity as I could manage.

Which wasn’t much.

I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of steak.

My father continued his conversation as though nothing had happened.

I glared at him.

He didn’t even look at me.

He always knew.

That was the problem.

My father could sense when I was planning something before I even did it.

Which was precisely why he could never find out about my secret runs into the forest.

If he ever discovered how often I slipped past the guards and disappeared between those trees, I would never see freedom again.

I took another bite of steak and tried to look innocent.

Across the table, Roman caught my eye.

There was amusement in his expression now.

I raised an eyebrow.

He raised his.

I looked away first.

Not because I was embarrassed.

Obviously.

I just didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.

The dinner dragged on around me, but my mind was no longer on the food or the politics.

Three hunters were dead near the western border.

My father was worried.

Roman had seen something strange in the Dead Lands.

And nobody wanted to tell me what it was.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to escape the dinner because I was bored.

I wanted to know what they were hiding.

And somehow, I had a feeling I was going to find out whether they liked it or not.