Red's Wolves

Chapter Six

The soles of Alera's shoes echoed throughout the now silent hall as all attention was on her. Step by step, she made sure each foot was perfectly placed—she would not have a repeat of the last meeting and end up on her face. She doubted she would be able to stand even with Brigette's assistance. Not with the tight corset, stiff dress and hair to match.

Regardless, her attention was solely on her father as she closed the distance. But she could feel his dark stare on her every step—Prince Nicholas of Abignor. Her heart pounded and breathing was difficult, but she forced herself to move forward. To distract herself, she glanced at the onlookers who stared like they had never seen her before. Maybe they hadn't, or maybe they didn't expect her to look as she did. It didn't matter. She offered curtsies and the fluttering of her eyelashes as if she was trained for this very moment. As would be expected of a princess such as herself when meeting the betrothed for the first time.

The thought made her want to vomit.

"Daughter, it is so good to see you looking well this morning," her father said as she approached, and offered his hand for her to ascend the dais. She could hear the forced kindness and formalities in his tone. The false smile as he made to meet her eye. It seemed he may not have expected this visit as much as anyone else, which spoke volumes about how Nicholas viewed their kingdom.

And her.

Taking her father's hand, she let him lead her to the front of the room, up to the dais that housed the throne, and between him and her one day, soon to be husband.

Her father continued in his saccharine tone as all attention was now most certainly focused on her. Her palms were sweating and if her father felt them, he at least had the grace to not say anything. "Alera, Princess of Palazia, allow me to introduce you to Nicholas, Crown Prince and Heir of our greatest ally, Abignor."

Urging to face him, Alera finally had to open her eyes and face the man who would be her husband.

He looked as cruel as she remembered.

His dark hair was slicked back from his scalp, revealing harsh, angular features and black, beady, hawk-like eyes that never seemed to blink, but instead took everything in. Assessing his next prey, calculating his next move. And when that predator's attention rested on her, everything she had dreaded about this union rose to the surface and threatened to send her to her knees and beg her father to reconsider.

But there was no way she could have done that in front of the people here, not when there were visitors and she was supposed to be a representative of her kingdom. Even when she wanted to cry, kick and scream, turn around and run. Everything about this man made her want to flee.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Nicholas." She didn't even know how she found her voice, especially one that sounded as steady and confident as the one that left her throat. She curtsied and when she raised her attention back to him, the look he gave her was not one of hope, or love, or anything good that would prove to her this arrangement was in her best interest.

The look he gave her was nothing short of haughty contempt. That he knew exactly who she was and what people thought of her, and that as soon as he stole her away to Abignor, he would lock her away, throw the key, and take everything that was rightfully hers as his own.

"Pleasure," was all he said in a tone that dripped as much distaste as the look he gave her. If they were more in a private setting, she was certain he wouldn't have touched her hand or lifted it to his mouth with the smallest of kisses on her knuckles, just enough to maintain the facade that this was something he wanted rather than something he was doing to advance his position. She did notice he wore black leather gloves—was it a formality or because he had heard the fearful rumors about her? It would have been far more insulting to bless himself to his gods in a visiting kingdom, would it not have?

It mattered not, because she had to steal her will and not wipe her hand off on her stiff skirts the moment he released her hand, the lingering slime from his lips like a crawling insect that refused to leave her alone.

"Fantastic," her father interceded with a booming, authoritative voice. "This is going to be the greatest of days. A celebration for all. A joyous matrimony in honor of Princess Alera's eighteenth birthday. Let the music play and the festivities begin."

There was a forced cheer in response—they were not there for her. No one approached her but rather ran towards the large banquet tables that were now laden with food and drink along the outer walls of the grand hall. Even Prince Nicholas was eager to move, stepping off of the dais as soon as the king allowed it. Which left Alera and her father standing up there alone, watching their guests as much as they were assessing her.

"Was all of this necessary?" She asked softly, just loud enough for him to hear. But her father didn't take his attention off of the crowd mingling about.

"Do not be ungrateful, Alera. Not every princess is fortunate for such an audience, regardless of their birthday."

And that was answer enough, she realized, as her father stepped from the dais himself and offered his hand for her to follow. Who was she to deny the king? Anything she did or said was going to be whispered and gossiped about when this was all over—if she was to ignore her father amidst it all would only be one more insult to injury.

So her father's hand she accepted, and he led her through the room, introducing to this diplomat and that dignitary, reminding everyone he spoke to that how fortunate the princess is to have the Prince as a husband, and how grateful they are for such a match. Like a puppet on a string, he played the game, and the more she was dragged about, the more she realized the game that was being played.

The hours passed, and she felt like she was going mad.

But above all else, there was no more unmistakable truth than the realization that her father truly would have done anything necessary to marry her off and make her become someone else's problem.

A match based solely on love, at least for her, was never going to have been an option.