Stolen Princess

8. No Free Wrens

The dress Isobel chose was itchy.

Encased in ivory lace from toe to chin, I felt like I was going to lose my mind tonight. The whole hall was humming with news of what had happened this afternoon. Rumors flew about the troll, the Orcs, and the blue magic.

I glanced every once in a while towards my father at the Royal table, and he looked oddly pleased despite the possible destruction his kingdom had narrowly avoided today. I busied myself with white wine - the only kind Isobel would allow me in said itchy dress. Sam had disappeared hours ago, the Orcs had all but tossed me out, and now Isobel was the last piece of comfort I could find today.

Unfortunately, staying at my sister's elbow meant being subjected to the rest of my sisters' nonsense. I tried my best not to listen, but every once in a while between courses, or when the musicians went quiet, I heard their conversation.

"He isn't so bad looking, I suppose," Isolde giggled behind one slender pale hand, and I rolled my eyes. She would change her fancy in a short quarter-hour, and I knew it.

"He's green all over!" Isleen protested, and my pointed ears burned as I reluctantly turned my full attention to them once more. "He's a prince you idiot! Who cares if he's green! You don't see that holding back any of these nights from her," and with that, they both glanced my way darkly.

Unfortunately, I'd been so stuck on something they'd said just a moment ago I'd forgotten to be careful, and they caught me staring boldface, wine glass mid sip. I gulped as they narrowed twin sets of bright blue eyes and snickered to each other behind their tiny pale hands.

"Who's a prince?" I asked, choking on the wine a bit... surely I'd heard them wrong... they'd heard wrong... surely it wasn't...

"Crown Prince Oren, you idiot!" Isla rolled her eyes to the ceiling then looked over at Isleen in a long-suffering kind of way like I was an idiot, not just green.

"Crown Prince?" I parroted helplessly, setting my wine glass down with a thud before anyone noticed my handshaking, "Crown Prince of Orcdon?"

"Wake up Wren!" Isleen hissed across the table, "Your stupidity will embarrass us all!"

I blushed at her reprimand... how had I not known? With a flip of her long and perfect blonde hair, my sisters frowned at me reproachfully and left the table to join the dancing.

I reached for another glass of wine from a nearby servant, swallowing the contents as quickly as I could.

Oren was a Prince.

That meant Talon...

I breathed out in a long groan.

I'd blood bonded the Princes of Orcdon to me... perhaps the greatest diplomatic faux pas in the history of human and Orc relations.

It was more than enough to start a war... more than enough to get my neck cut to sever the connection... I grasped for another glass of wine, then thinking better of it this time I wrestled the bottle from the footman. He gave me a distasteful sniff and moved on as I nursed the green glass bottle to my itchy lace-covered chest.

Crown Prince.

Prince of Orcdon.

Oh no. Oh, dear.

And then another thought - they hadn't even mentioned it to me?!

Well, really!

It was more their fault than anything, wasn't it? They'd known me on sight... and I'd - well, I'd assumed a little too quickly. I'd lept into a blood vow without a backward glance and now the lives of two rival kingdoms, one of them a Crown Prince were entwined.