The kiss she’d shared with Ruben had rocked her world.

Since Willow had never kissed anyone before, she didn’t know if it was always like this. So intense. So powerful.

And when she’d felt his body swell with desire, her womanly parts had come alive. She’d wanted him, in a gut-wrenching, visceral way.

Apparently he hadn’t felt the same.

The sense of loss that had come over her when Ruben had turned away had been shattering. Used to hiding her inner pain, she’d gathered her shredded dignity around her like a cloak, glad she’d been able to look calm and relatively normal when he’d finally turned back to her.

When they’d first stepped into her world, she’d let the peace of the woods surround her. As usual, the sounds and scents of the forest were a calming, balm upon her troubled soul.

But her sense of tranquillity was only fleeting as she forced herself to remember why they were there. Into this beauty, a killer had gone.

About the Author

KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amidst the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty that surrounded her. Karen now lives in north Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing. You can email Karen at kwhiddon1@aol.com or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.

The Wolf Prince
Karen Whiddon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As always, to my husband and my daughter. My family. You are and always will be everything to me.

Chapter 1

As dusk settled over the land like a tattered cloak, Prince Ruben of Teslinko stood alone in the crumbling, condemned tower of his ancestral home and wondered if madness had finally come to claim him.

If not yet madness, then complete blackness of soul. Worse, he could see no way out. He was trapped, as surely as a wild animal caught in a snare.

At the thought, his inner wolf snarled. The beast had been furious as of late, clamoring for him to shape-shift, to change. Stubbornly deliberate, Ruben had remained human for two entire days now. Normal for most Shifters. As for him, forty-eight hours felt like a death sentence.

If only death could come so easily.

Again, the black thoughts. Nothing would help him. Nothing save changing, letting his beast take over once more. Each time, he remained wolf longer and longer, having to battle the wolf inside to shift back to human. And then once he had … he wanted to die.

He’d lost control. More than that. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to regain that part of himself he’d given over to the wolf. The human part, necessary to survive in the kingdom of his parents, the world of his people. Something had broken inside him and he didn’t know how to fix it. Being human felt like how an addict must feel without the drug. Craving it, shaking, unable to sleep, or eat, or function.

He was damaged, ruined, borderline insane. And he—or rather his wolf—didn’t care. Always, the idea of changing, of remaining wolf, beckoned like a glittery bauble forever out of reach. The struggle to keep from giving in grew more and more difficult, compounded by the fact that he really did not care. He’d rather be wolf than human. And though he knew this was considered wrong, it was the way he felt.

Worse, he could only think of one reason why he should try to repair his damaged psyche, because he sure as hell would rather stay wolf than man. But as his father’s sole heir, the fate of his bloodline rested squarely on him. Unless his hidden madness overwhelmed him, Prince Ruben would rule Teslinko one day. Therefore, he couldn’t give in to his deepest, darkest desire and vanish into the vast forests surrounding his father’s lands. Forever to walk on four legs instead of two.

Even the thought made his insides quiver with longing.

Damn it.

Rather than pace the confined space, stepping carefully to avoid the crumbling stones and gaping holes, Ruben gripped the stone window ledge so hard his knuckles turned white. Breathing rapidly, he watched as vehicle after vehicle snaked up the winding, ancient road toward the royal castle. Not to the old part where he now hid, but the sleek, renovated, modern building where his family resided.

No one but Ruben ever visited the decrepit ruins. He preferred it this way, relishing his solitude over the hundred irritating daily tasks a royal prince must perform.

He counted this night among those onerous duties.

His parents, King Leo and Queen Ionna of Teslinko, were having a huge ball. Tonight, and again one week from tonight, and once more a fortnight from tonight, and so on. As long as it took, they had said, making no secret as to their reason. Now that his sisters, including Alisa had been married, all eyes had turned to Ruben, the youngest child and, as the only male, the royal heir. His parents had decided Ruben needed to settle down and produce an heir of his own. This event would be the first of the many it took to find him a suitable wife.

Which was the absolute last thing he wanted.

Ruben could have told his parents they were wasting their time. But as much as he loved them, he was well aware of their shortcomings. They heard only what they wanted to hear, steadfastly refusing to believe their only son could do any wrong.

He certainly hadn’t told them of the dark cloud that had settled over him. They weren’t aware of the possibility of his encroaching madness, nor that he’d reached a decision never to marry. How could he, when he could be a danger to anyone who got too close to him?

So he’d suffer through who-knew-how-many balls, dances or parties, all the while hoping for a miracle that would likely never come. Pity he didn’t believe in either magic or divine intervention.

These days Ruben didn’t believe in much of anything. Least of all, in his ability to lead his people.

Below his vantage point, a door closed and a woman’s bright laughter trilled through the air, drawing his attention. They came alone and in groups, every young, marriageable woman in Teslinko and beyond. Dressed to impress, they chattered and giggled and plotted. Though he despised the label, he knew he was known far and wide as the catch of the season. Therefore he could, in theory, have his pick of gorgeous, desirable and well-connected women. Sadly, he wasn’t interested, not in the least. He had too many issues to burden anyone else with them.

Of course, unaware of this, his parents plunged full-steam ahead in their plans of finding him a mate. Shifter or human, they’d told him they’d be happy as long as he was happy. They had no idea that happiness for him was an unattainable goal.

A party only made him feel worse rather than better. And what a gala this would be. For this event, the royal decorator had spared no expense. A hundred thousand tiny lights illuminated the trees, the drive and the entrance.

Glumly, he continued to stare down at the festive scene below as more and more guests arrived. How many were there? From what he’d seen so far, he’d guess at least two or three hundred single women, all fixated on the same goal. Him.

Inside, his wolf stirred, intrigued by the variety of new scents and sounds. The beast wanted to be set free to investigate. As always, the notion tempted him.

No. He shook his head, mentally pushing his wolf back into a cage and locking the door. Once finished, his chest ached with the familiar and now forbidden longing. Better if he could simply shape-shift into wolf and never change back to human. At least this impending madness didn’t seem to bother his lupine self.

And there it was. Again. Temptation. If he valued what was left of his mind, he knew he could not give in.

Watching as expensive car after expensive car rolled up the drive and disgorged its contents, he sighed. He’d better go change and prepare to do his time. If he was lucky, he could snag a couple of glasses of strong Scotch to help him survive the ordeal.

Trudging through the forest, the watered silk of her best formal dress bunched up in her fist, Willow of the SouthWard Brights tried to think happy thoughts. Because she couldn’t take a chance on getting dirty, she ignored the siren call of the wild animals watching her from their various hiding places around the thick forest.

All she’d have to do was crook her little finger and whistle, and they’d come. When they were with her, carnivores ignored their natural prey, and the most skittish of beasts calmed under her gentle hand.

It was a gift and one she had kept hidden, by necessity. The one time she’d tried to tell her mother, she’d been treated with scorn and derision. After that, she’d supposed everyone else would view her gift the same way, so she had kept it secret. Not only from the rest of her family, but from everyone in the kingdom. In a place where the level of magical ability meant power, Willow’s was a secret best kept inside.

Just like the tear in the veil.

She’d discovered the portal by accident a year ago while on one of her solitary strolls through the forest. Just because she didn’t cast spells or use magic like her mother and sister, didn’t mean she couldn’t sense it. And the lure of the shimmering veil had drawn her as surely as a bear to honey.

With it, she could cross between her world and that of the humans. She’d taken advantage of this numerous times in the months since, yet another secret she held close to her breast.

She quite enjoyed her anonymity in the human world. There, no one knew she was a princess. No one thought she looked different or looked down on her because she was lacking in magic.

A loner by nature, Willow had few friends among her kind. With a rueful smile, she stepped over a fallen log. Make that no friends. At least, not among her people—the Bright.

Forcing herself to focus on the present, she felt the siren thrum of the magic as she approached the veil. Her heartbeat quickened and the scents of the forest became sharper, more intense. Damp earth and plant, and the slightly acrid, barely detectable scent of its animal inhabitants.

As she neared the shimmering space, she felt an unfamiliar tickle of anticipation.

The royal family of Teslinko was having a ball. Tonight, in fact. According to the chatter she’d picked up hanging around near their castle, they’d been preparing for the huge event for weeks. Rumor had it that the king and queen were determined to find their son, Prince Ruben, a bride.

Willow cared about none of that. As the youngest—and least desirable—daughter of a powerful queen, she had her own worries about that area. According to her older—and much more beautiful—sister, Tatiana, Willow would remain unwed the rest of her natural-born, magic-less life.

Which, though occasionally sounding lonely, was all right with Willow.

Growing closer to the veil, she felt the pull of its magic. She took a deep breath, then another, allowing herself to feel the power of the ancient earth gathering under her feet and the rush of air swirling around this, an opening between worlds.

Ahead, in a clearing between two tall ash trees, the space flickered, odd shapes sparkling through a fog, as though one might be able to see them if one turned quickly enough. The magic was strong here, visible even to the untrained eye. Briefly she wondered how it was that a hapless human hadn’t managed to wander straight into it and wind up among the land of the Bright—her home.

Maybe, because the power felt so odd, humans instinctively avoided this area.

Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, Willow stepped into the shimmering veil and gave herself over to the magic.

Bored, drifting from one cluster of simpering women to another, trying not to gag on the choke of their strong perfume, Ruben glanced at his watch for the twentieth time and wondered how long he needed to stay. At least until the meal had been served, he estimated grimly. Naturally, the dinner service was a drawn out process that could take as long as two and a half hours. So for now, he was stuck.

His mother, Queen Ionna, had already taken him by the arm and dragged him around the crowded room, introducing him to what seemed like every unmarried woman under the age of forty. He’d taken care to be pleasant, nothing more, well aware of his mother’s displeasure when he didn’t choose one female to single out for his attentions.

He suspected several of the women were disappointed as well, though most took care not to show this. There were so many of them, women of every shape and size. Young and old, virgin and widow, his skin crawled as each eyed him as eagerly as if he were a prize stud up for auction to the highest bidder.

Which in a way, he supposed he was. His sister Alisa had often complained about this very thing. Aware of her tendency toward the dramatic, he’d never taken her complaints seriously. Now that she’d been married off and his parents’ focus had turned to him, he’d begun to see her point.

Restless, his wolf tested the edge of his control. Gritting his teeth, Ruben forced the beast back into his mental cage, a task growing more and more difficult.

At the thought, a wild longing swept him, freezing him in his tracks. To run free. Wild. As he pushed the desire away, he swore he could feel his wolf’s savage amusement.

Not good. So not good.

The evening was early yet, the music soft and the food and drink plentiful. He eyed the guests lingering over their cocktails, standing in clusters and conversing about financial markets, the latest fashions or the employment crisis in other nations. All topics which held zero interest for him.

He’d already downed two strong Scotch-and-waters and now sipped his third. Mildly intoxicated, he was well aware that he had to slow down if he wanted to keep the wolf at bay and the darkness inside him from leaking out. Wouldn’t do, he thought cynically, if the guests were to realize the heir to the throne grappled with bouts of insanity. The humans would be horrified and the Shifters … they’d be appalled. He could imagine the varied reactions. He wouldn’t be regarded as such a catch then.

Again, he nearly smiled, his wolf pacing restlessly, full of nervous energy. The idea almost sounded … good to him. Proof positive how unbalanced he’d become.

In the crowded ballroom, Shifters and humans mingled, the majority of the humans unaware that there were those among them who could change into a wolf at will. His boredom growing, Ruben began picturing their reactions if he were to calmly stroll out to the middle of the empty dance floor, strip off his tuxedo and drop to all fours to initiate the change that would turn his human form into that of a huge, nearly Feral, wolf.

Panic from the humans. His wolf snarled, enjoying the mental image. From his own kind, the Shifters, he expected he’d see a mixture of shock, anger and disgust.

His parents would be mortified. After the first moment of horror, the damage control would begin in earnest.

The thought made him smile again, a record as of late. Again, the idea felt tantalizing. As if he could close his eyes, let his tattered willpower fall away, and allow events to happen as they would. His wolf would take over. Everything would be out of Ruben’s hands.

So simple … He swayed, tempted. Snapping his eyes open, he took another slug of the strong liquor, letting it burn its way down his throat.

And therein lay the twisted path to madness.

Giving himself an inner shake, putting a choke hold on the furious wolf inside, he again began to make another circuit of the room, trying to regulate his breathing, his thoughts, his steps. As he looked up, he noted his mother’s sharp gaze fixed on him.

Inhaling the mixed odors of perfume and human sweat, he shuddered, longing for the clean, crisp scent of the pines, the damp muskiness of the earth. The lure of the forest beyond the castle, where he spent so much of his time, pulled at him, though he knew part of that was tied up in his wolf’s desire to break free.

While he strolled about, gritting his teeth and hiding his indifference, inside his wolf snarled and paced and raged. Ignoring the capricious beast took effort, but he managed. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ruins at the edge of the forest, but he fixed what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face and attempted to socialize.

His mother’s earlier decree replayed in his head. Find a wife. You are heir to the throne. It’s long past time you settled down. Marry. Have children.

His absolute worst nightmare. No, he paused, twirling the ice inside his almost empty glass. His second worst nightmare.

And the women. Every one of them made no attempt to hide their hope that he’d chose them. They smiled and simpered and tried to seduce him, but he barely gave any even a cursory glance. Despite their varying beauty, none of them interested him. He knew many of them, had run into them at one event or another over the years. Some he’d grown up with, played childhood games alongside, and even stolen his first kiss from while hidden in a high-walled garden and thrilling at the forbidden taste. He sighed with annoyance. Such memories were a thing of the past.

Of late, he’d lived the life of a monk, abstaining from all feminine companionship. Another attempt to keep the darkness that haunted him secret.

Glancing at his watch, he prayed this night would be over.

And then, as fate played some sort of ironic trick on him, he saw her from across the room. Unfamiliar, tiny, exquisite, the dusky rose of her skin faintly shimmering with life. Desire stabbed him, sharp and strong and so gut-wrenchingly powerful even his wolf was stunned into silence.

Unlike the others, who resembled overdressed peacocks, she wore a simple long sheath in a muted yellow, devoid of ornamentation or jangle. Head high, smooth shoulders back, she carried herself with the unconscious bearing of royalty. Though he could tell from her lack of aura that she was not Pack, he found himself wondering if she was even human. Something about her …

Damn and double damn. He swayed, wondering if he’d had more to drink than he’d thought.

For the first time in a long time, his wolf approved. Though he’d not yet taken measure of her scent, the beast wanted to mate with her.

Letting his wolf guide him, he began moving toward her, determined to claim her as his.

When their gazes met, every jangling noise inside Willow went still. Who was he? What was he? Whatever he was, he wasn’t human. The darkness emanating from him drew her. She wondered if this was because of her secret Shadow heritage or if, as always, the part of her that was Bright felt a compulsion to bring light to the faintest bit of darkness.

Of course, since she had no magic, she never could. But that didn’t stop the longing.

As he began to move toward her, certain and sure and clearly determined to reach her, she panicked. Glancing left, then right, she quickly calculated an escape route and tried to leap toward it. She didn’t know if she was afraid because she’d crashed his party, or because he was so damn beautiful. She went with her gut reaction to flee. However, she’d completely forgotten about her long skirt and high heels, and as a result, she stumbled and nearly fell.

Miraculously, she caught herself. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder—he was drawing impossibly closer—she slipped in between two groups of women and hurried away. Keeping to the most crowded part of the room, she weaved her way toward a balcony she noticed on the other side.

Finally there, she opened the French style door and slipped out into the cool darkness, lit by the brightness of the full moon. Safe, at least for now.

As she gripped the iron railing, she wasn’t surprised to note her hands were trembling.

Inhaling the sharp, fresh air, she wondered when she’d become such a coward. Behind her the door opened with a click. Even though she’d remained in the shadows, she knew he’d found her, even before he spoke.

“I’m not dangerous, you know.” The husky-as-sin voice sounded exactly that. Dangerous as hell.

Slowly she raised her head. Years of experience at her parents’ court enabled her to put a pleasantly surprised expression on her face. “I think if you feel the need to even say such a thing, then you must be very unsafe indeed.”

When his smile came, the sight of it made her pulse race. She futilely tried to get her now scattered bearings, when he spoke again.

“Walk with me.” He held out his arm, his words a command rather than a request.

She swallowed hard and tried to think. This she hadn’t planned for. She gazed up at him, a dark figure of a man with powerful shoulders and broad chest, and her mouth went dry. Blindly she reached out and took his hand. The roughness of it gave her an unwanted sense of protection. She glanced down at their entwined hands and realized his fingers were beautiful—long and strong and oddly graceful, like those of an artist.

“Who are you?” she asked, finding her voice.

“Ruben,” he answered simply, his dark gaze locked on hers. Despite herself, she shivered.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured.

At that, she straightened her shoulders. She might be many things, but coward was not one of them. “I’m not,” she said, wondering why the words felt like a lie.

He gave her hand a gentle tug. Moving with him out onto the terrace, when they reached the balcony that in daylight would look out over the lush and green forest, she let go of him, taking a small step sideways to keep their bodies from touching. He didn’t react to this, gripping the smooth marble rail and staring straight ahead, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there.

Together they stood, side by side, gazing out over the darkness toward the mountains, the silence growing between them. The faint swell of music from inside provided background noise. She fought the urge to fidget or to speak, simply to hear the sound of her own voice.

Evidently, despite the way he’d sought her out, he had nothing to say to her. Just like she was back at home, the ugly younger sister. Though she knew she ought to be used to it by now, it still hurt.

Turning to face him, she lifted her chin and flashed a carefully casual smile. “I have to go,” she said, no trace of regret in her voice.

Tall and straight, he swung his head to gaze down at her. “Please, not yet. Stay with me a little longer. Please.”

Though his husky voice simmered with enough sensuality to make her feel dizzy, she suspected he might be toying with her. Though for what reason, she couldn’t tell.

“Why?”

“A simple enough question.” He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Though my answer is more complicated. I’m the prince.”

“The prince?” she repeated, shocked.

“Yes. This—” he waved one hand “—This is all for me. My parents’ idea of a good time. They’re putting me through ball after endless ball, all to find me a wife.”

At the word, he gave an exaggerated shudder, making her laugh despite herself. “I take it you don’t like the idea?”

“That would be a major understatement. I don’t want to marry.” Casually, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Despite the heavy material of the dress, she felt the heat of his beautiful fingers and had to fight not to lean into him. To be able to choose one’s own fate … now that was a luxury she wished she had.

“Me, either.” She sighed, unwillingly reminded of the unknown prince her parents had promised her to.

“You never told me your name,” he said.

Since she now realized the man, this prince, rather, needed a friend rather than a date, she relaxed. “Willow.”

His disheveled dark hair gleamed in the lights from inside. “That’s an unusual name.”

More at ease now, she grinned up at him. “I’m an unusual person.”

As he continued to gaze at her without responding, she felt her face heat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not really good at flirting.” The words came out in a rush.

He shrugged. “Who is? I’d rather run in the woods.”

At his words, she couldn’t help but silently agree. How could this be possible? He’d unknowingly echoed her earlier thoughts. “You run in the woods? Me, too, though I roam more than run. I love the forest.”

He grinned, devastating her, and then he laughed, the deep, rich masculine sound curling around her like a shawl.

“Come with me.” Again, he held out his hand.

This time, instead of blindly accepting, she shook her head. “First, tell me where we’re going.”

Gravely, he regarded her, the flickering interior lights casting shadows on his craggy features. “To dance, of course.”

And just like that, he made her want him. So intensely her entire being ached with it.

“Let’s go,” she said, surprised her voice didn’t crack.

As they entered through the French doors, the band had begun to play a waltz, as if on cue. Because her mother had seen to it that Willow had received the same dance lessons as her sister, she knew all the steps.

He swept her into his arms and she had to remind herself how to breathe.

In that instant, she felt sharply the loss of every magical power she’d never had. Because dancing with Ruben was all that and more. He was tall and fit, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. By the laws of physics, he should have been clumsy, a stumbling bear of a man. Instead, he moved with the grace of a born athlete. Women watched them enviously. And the men … the men eyed her, wondering no doubt why such a beautiful man wasted time on such a skinny and frumpy girl.

“They all want you,” he rumbled in her ear, making her start. At his playful words, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know,” she murmured back, enjoying the joke. “How could they not want the one who can get the prince to dance?”

He peered down at her, mischief making his eyes sparkle. “You’re right about that, you know. I haven’t danced at a single one of these things since I was twelve.”

“Why not?” The instant she asked the question, she knew the answer. A man who’d rather be running in the wild forest would eschew dances and banquets and all the other social nonsense that came with being royalty. She should know. She was exactly the same way, though no doubt for dissimilar reasons.

Still, this was different, somehow. Her beautiful skirt floated around her ankles and she felt as if she were gliding on air.

They’d barely begun—this time a fox-trot—when someone screamed, a shrill sound of absolute panic. As Willow, along with everyone else, turned to look, the rear of the ballroom exploded.

Chapter 2

The blast knocked them to the ground. Instinctively, Ruben tried to direct his fall to protect the unique woman who’d allowed him to spend the evening with her.

Willow. Hellhounds, he hoped she was all right. Ears ringing, he called her name, even as he hauled her to her feet amid the debris raining down on them.

She sagged against him, causing his heart to skip a beat. So tiny, her bones. He cupped her soot-covered chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. Her amazing caramel-colored eyes were open, if dazed. Alive. Relatively unhurt, as far as he could tell.

Relief flooding him, he slipped his arm around her impossibly small waist, helping her to steady herself.

“Are you okay?”

She opened her mouth to speak, and then licked her cracked lips instead, drawing his gaze. “I think so,” she finally croaked, sounding uncertain. Tentatively, she moved, testing her joints, and finally shook her head. “At least, I don’t hurt anywhere.”

She wasn’t bleeding, so for now he had no choice but to take her words for truth. As he turned away, there was another explosion, this one smaller and farther away.

Damn. His guests … his family … his home.

Releasing her, he turned to survey the damage, praying there were no fatalities. Several people were still down. Smoke rapidly began to fill the room, which meant there was a fire nearby. Flash. Another mini-explosion. Hell, he didn’t see his parents anywhere. The sounds—moans and wails and crying, fire crackling, something— What? Dripping? Smoke, more smoke. The tainted air grew rapidly difficult to breathe. How many were injured? How many were … dead? Hounds. He hoped none.

Need. To. Move. Now.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve got to help get everyone out. Are you well enough to assist me?”

Blinking, she nodded. The effort seemed to make her dizzy, as she swayed on her feet. Ruben cursed under his breath. He couldn’t leave her, but he wasn’t sure if dragging her around with him was the best idea, either.

At this point, he didn’t really have a choice. She wasn’t seriously hurt, so she either had to help or take herself to safety.

A prince’s first responsibility was toward his people. His family. His home. Damn and double damn.

“Come on.” Taking her arm, he led her through the thickening smoke toward the closest group of people, with the intent of leaving her with them. Most had scrambled back to their feet; those could make their way out, to safety.

Near them, several lay still on the floor, unmoving.

Ruben’s stomach lurched as he dropped to his knees next to an older man he recognized from court. So many people hadn’t yet risen. He didn’t dare think that they might not be alive. This man—George something or other—blinked and lifted his head, gray hair tinted red with blood. Hurt, but alive. Ruben helped him to his feet, pointing him and the others who were able to move toward the door.

The next several minutes—hours?—passed in a blur. Though he’d had to resort to crawling under the smoke, Ruben managed to get from group to group, with Willow surprisingly right alongside him. She’d refused to leave for safety with the others.

As they led more and more people toward the door, her strength appeared to improve rapidly, for which he was thankful. Together they tended to the wounded, helping people who’d been stunned by the blast to their feet, assisting others in moving their wounded outside, where it was safer area.

Gasping for air, three times they had led groups of people toward the door, coughing and hacking all the way. They couldn’t stay much longer. The smoke had grown so thick everyone was getting disoriented.

Was everyone out? He still had not seen his parents, which chilled his blood. He knew his father and if King Leo had been able to move, he would have worked tirelessly to save his people. Ruben prayed the older man worked in another part of the castle, or even better, outside doctoring the wounded. He couldn’t stop long enough to search for him.

With time of the essence, Ruben grabbed several of the palace guards to help him drag the wounded outside, away from danger. This helped speed things up. Soon, the smoke-filled room emptied and, gasping for air, Ruben finally staggered outside and collapsed on the grass.

While he tried to suck in enough air to his burning lungs, Ruben pushed away the hated and eerie feeling of déjà vu. This had happened before, when his sister Alisa and her now husband Braden were here. Bombs had gone off inside the palace. Then, many had supposed the attacks were targeted at Dr. Streib, Alisa’s husband who’d initially traveled to Teslinko to do research on her.

But over time, they’d learned differently. The bombings hadn’t been directed at the American doctor. Rather, the royal family had been targeted by a group of extremists, those who claimed they felt more connected to their wolf selves and believed remaining human for longer than a week or two was an abomination to their true natures. Only Alisa had known how much Ruben was like them, though he didn’t share their propensity for violence. Their methods, which involved violence such as bombings, were deadly. They believed such things would draw attention to their cause.

Their cause, as he knew better than most, was futile. Shifters could not stay wolf without losing their mind. Until recently, the Society of the Protectors had been dispatched to bring in Feral Shifters for rehabilitation. Those who had refused, or were deemed too mad, had been eliminated. Fortunately, that barbaric practice had been outlawed.

Still, everyone knew about the limitations placed on changing. Everyone except these extremists. Considering what had happened to him when he had tried to stay wolf more than human, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of madness drove them.

Their bombs killed and maimed, accomplishing nothing but death and destruction, but still they persevered. The royal family of Teslinko had taken precautions to prevent this from ever happening again, but evidently those hadn’t been enough.

More death. More destruction. Senseless.

Shoving his thoughts to the back of his mind, Ruben summoned his last reserves of strength and began checking on his people. Now that they were out of the ballroom and safe, minor injuries could be attended to. Water was found and distributed and Ruben accepted a bottle gratefully, draining it in several gulps. He wished it did more to soothe his raw throat, but this would have to heal with time.

As he made his way through the throngs of people, Willow remained silently at his side, patching up the wounded, providing a slender shoulder when needed. Though she was covered in soot, her beautiful gown ruined, she worked tirelessly, selflessly, earning his gratitude and his admiration.

Finally, he thought everyone had been helped. As far as he could tell, they might have saved them all. With no casualties—at least that he knew of. All of the ones who’d been knocked out were all right.

He had yet to find his parents. Wearily, he pushed himself up off the grass. Willow looked at him quizzically, her exhaustion evident by the dark circles under her eyes. They had to be safe, he thought, seeing numerous members of the King’s personal guard milling about. If something had happened to either the king or queen, no matter how minor, there would have been an outcry and someone would have been sent to fetch him.

Finally, he found one of their assistants who, wide-eyed from shock, stuttered as he assured Ruben that the royal couple was fine. Apparently they’d been in another part of the palace when the explosion had occurred. They were now ministering to the servants and the most gravely injured.

Another part of the palace. Hearing this had brought a slight smile to his face, the first since the explosion. Even after all these years spent together, his parents were still deeply in love and were known to sneak off in the middle of a gala to grab some together time. He—along with all his sisters—used to find that mortifying. Lately, he’d viewed their amorous behavior more tolerantly, even finding it amusing.

This time he breathed a sigh of relief, believing this proclivity to sneak away to spend private time with each other might have saved their lives.

Relieved, he returned to his place on the grass by Willow and watched as a team of firefighters from the village worked frantically, attempting to put out the flames. Still, part of the ballroom continued to burn, the flames flickering, roaring hungrily and sending billows of thick smoke into the night sky.

Finally, the fire was extinguished. One last dousing of water had been sprayed. The remains of the ballroom were coated in watery soot and the sour odor of smoke still curdled the air.

Shoulders rounded with exhaustion, the firefighters silently put away their equipment and prepared to return to the village.

As he pushed again to his feet, Ruben realized he was exhausted. Even his wolf had slunk back deep inside him. He glanced at Willow to find she also stood at his side, clearly equally done in, yet uncomplaining.

When he turned to face her, she stumbled, nearly going to her knees. Easily he caught her, relishing the feel of her against him before setting her on her feet.

“I think we’re done.” Hand at her elbow, where soot made the material a dirty grayish black, he steadied her and smoothed her smoky, ash-covered hair back from her face. “Thank you so much for your help. We did a lot of good tonight. There was no loss of life.”

Appearing distracted, she nodded, biting her lip, almost as though she was on the verge of tears. Swaying, she glanced at all the people huddled together in various groups. Then, lifting her hand in a gesture that seemed a halfhearted wave, she staggered away. She weaved slightly and headed down a winding, cobbled path that led only toward an old stone bench which sat alone in a secluded arbor.

This bench had once been one of his sister Alisa’s favorite places. She’d gone there when she’d needed solitude in order to think. No one had used it since Alisa had gotten married and gone to America with her new husband. Following Willow, he wondered how she’d known how to find it.

With only the full moon shining in the cloudless night sky providing light, she rounded the final bend in the path. Then, smoothing her ruined skirt, she took a seat on the bench. As he came up on her, she gave him a tired smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t bear the smell of the smoke any longer.”

He nodded his understanding. With a sigh, she patted the space beside her for him to drop down next to her.

He did and they sat, shoulders touching, silently contemplating the night. Again he marveled at the way she’d helped for hours, uncomplaining or expecting any kind of preferential treatment normally given to a beautiful woman in a ball gown. A stranger, she hadn’t run from the chaos but rather dove right in to help people she clearly didn’t know.

In short, if he’d thought her amazing before, this was doubly so now. His feelings had expanded to a sort of exhausted wonder. How could she be both so lovely and so … good? Chest tight, he gazed at her, finding her soot-stained face extraordinarily beautiful.

“What time is it?” she asked him, her voice still raspy from the smoke.

He glanced at his watch, unsurprised to find that it would soon be morning, despite the huge moon hanging in the western night sky. “Four a.m. Can you believe the sun will be rising in a few hours?” he mused. “What a night. And I still have to make a statement to the authorities.”

At his words, she inhaled sharply, sitting up straight. “Four?”

Wide-eyed, she pushed to her feet, her movements still unsteady. She glanced at him before looking out at the still-dark forest beyond the castle. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” she told him. Was that the faintest note of panic he heard in her voice?

He rose with her, eyeing her curiously. She’d been calm before, in the face of disaster. And now, panicked at the idea of being late, she seemed like a different woman.

“I’ll vouch for you,” he told her. “Sit back down. I’m sure whoever is waiting for you will understand.”

“I doubt it.” Glancing wildly around her, as if she expected someone to jump out of the shadows and grab her, she gathered her shredded composure about her like a cloak. Dipping her chin formally, she mustered up a shaky smile. “It was very nice to meet you, Prince Ruben. I’m sorry that your party didn’t turn out as well as you’d hoped.”

And then, as he tried to process her remark, she leaped away like a wild animal, without a backward glance, and took off running into the dark woods.

Mind muddled with exhaustion, Ruben considered her retreat blankly. What the …? By the time he took a step to follow her, she’d vanished from sight, disappearing into the forest.

But why? The way she’d gone led to nothing but wilderness. The nearest town was in the opposite direction.

From the castle, someone shouted his name. The authorities must have arrived and they needed him to make a statement. Duty called. Reluctantly, he turned and headed back along the way he’d come.

The local police—along with the media—had indeed arrived. Amid the red and blue lights and the flash of cameras, a cluster of reporters had gathered to await the official statement.

Waving at them, Ruben again went looking for his father. Usually the king handled press conferences, though Ruben would do so if needed.

The Captain of the Royal Guard, a large, dark skinned Pack member named Drake, informed him that the king would indeed deal with the press. He’d asked Ruben to tie up any loose ends before he did so.

Though it was nearly morning and he was weary to his bones, Ruben took care of business. While he conferred with palace guards and picked his way through the rubble that had once been the enormous foyer and receiving room of the palace, Willow’s image hovered in the back of his mind. Not the beautiful woman in the beautiful ball gown, but the grimy, soot-covered one who’d so selflessly helped him. Who was she? Where had she come from? And why had she run away?

Had she been frightened, or had her fleeing been something else entirely? He froze as an awful thought occurred to him. Had she known something about the bomb or who had planted it? Had she seen something or was she much more intimately involved? Did she know something about the extremists?

As much as he tried, he couldn’t immediately dismiss the idea. He’d thought he was familiar with every noblewoman around, not only in Teslinko but in the neighboring countries. But he had no idea who she really was, what nationality, or even who her people were.

When he’d first found her, she’d been hiding, keeping to herself, speaking to no one. She’d been practically skulking about. Had what he’d put down to shyness been in actuality an attempt to remain unnoticed?

One thing he knew for certain. When all this was over, he had to find her again.

Finally finished, he straightened his shoulders. Since the press conference would be starting in a few minutes, he turned to go in search of his parents again. As he did, he glanced down. There, among the soot and the rubble, near his feet, something shimmered. He bent, his muscles sore, and picked it up.

A woman’s earring, a dangling pearl, now sullied by ash and soot. An image flashed into his mind of the earring swinging gently as Willow turned her head. The earring was hers. She must have lost it in the craziness after the explosion.

Jaw set, he slipped the jewelry into his pocket. He’d seek Willow out, ostensibly to return her earring. While he was there, he’d ask her to explain exactly why she’d run and what she’d seen.

Kicking off her heels and lifting her sodden, ruined skirt in one hand, Willow took off. She ran, full-out, panic fueling her, grateful for the sudden spurt of energy that enabled her to go. She relished the feel of her legs pounding the earth and the wind whipping her hair, pushing away her weariness. When she reached the veil, she didn’t hesitate, leaping toward the shimmering space as though the hounds of hell followed her.

For all she knew, one of them did.

When she’d discovered the veil, she’d quickly learned not to stay overnight. If she did, too much time passed on the other side. Once she’d come home after spending eighteen hours among the humans, only to learn over a week had passed at home.

She couldn’t chance that happening again. Especially not now, when her parents had warned her that the two princes from EastWard would be arriving by the next day. One of these men—Prince Chad—was to be her betrothed. The other, Prince Eric, would wed her older sister, Tatiana.

There would be a ball—the irony of this didn’t escape her—and she would be expected to make an appearance. As a matter of fact, she’d planned to wear the dress she’d worn tonight, which was now hopelessly ruined.

Once she’d landed—this time, miraculously on her feet—she hurried home. As soon as the glistening gold of the castle came into view, she felt some of her panic subside. Judging from the way the moon still hung low in the horizon, time had remained the same, or close enough that her lateness wouldn’t matter.

Out of breath with her heart pounding from her exertion, she skidded to a stop and smoothed down her hair. There was nothing she could do about her ruined and filthy dress. At least everyone should still be asleep in their beds.

Hurrying up the glittering steps and grasping the huge handle of the castle door, she pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside.

All quiet, exactly as it should be. So far, so good.

Then, as she turned the corner that would lead toward the stairs, she heard it. Coming from down the hall, emanating from the direction of one of the receiving rooms, the sound of harp music and muted laughter.

Oh, dark. Her heart in her throat, she froze, listening. Was this a party that had continued into the predawn hours? What else could it be? Had the East-Ward group already arrived? Her stomach clenched. She hoped not. If she’d missed some kind of welcoming reception, her mother would be furious with her.

Another laugh, deep and masculine, drifted down the hall. Immediately following, her sister Tatiana’s signature giggle. If this wasn’t the EastWard group, then her older sister had been entertaining another gentleman caller for the entire night.

Blech. Though Willow wouldn’t put it past Tatiana. One last fling before settling down to a boring married life would be the way her older sister would look at it.

Hoping she was wrong, Willow gave the room a wide berth and hurried to her room to shower and change out of her ruined dress into her pajamas. Hopefully she could manage to catch a few hours of sleep before anyone came looking for her.

The next morning, full sunlight lit her room when she finally opened her eyes. The clock on the night-stand next to her bed read eleven thirty-five. Nearly noon.

Though her first instinct was to panic and jump out of bed so she could rush through her normal morning preparations, after a moment of thought, she reconsidered. Stretching, she allowed herself to wallow in the unexpected luxury of sleeping in. Since no one had bothered her or, more specifically, come to chew her out, she’d have to assume that the EastWard group hadn’t yet arrived.

As she snuggled under the covers, her door swung open. Tatiana rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her. She wore one of her most glittery dresses, the shifting colors of white, gold, silver and blue giving Willow an instant headache.

“Good, you’re here,” Tatiana gushed, her golden hair all done up in ribbons and curls. Then, as she took in the sight of Willow snuggling under the covers, she frowned. “Why are you still in bed?”

Briefly Willow entertained the thought of telling her sister that frowning made a deep furrow appear right in the middle of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, but decided against it. “Thanks for knocking,” she said. “What do you want? I was sleeping.”

“This late?” Tatiana snorted. “Right. You forget, I know you. You’re hiding, aren’t you?”

Cautiously, Willow peered up at her sister. The waist of Tati’s sparkling dress had been cinched so tightly, it was a wonder the older girl could breathe. Her full breasts threatened to spill out if she moved the wrong way. The glittering material barely covered them, though the way it had been arranged put them on blatant display.

Of course. Tatiana was getting ready to meet her fiancé. She wanted to look her best.

“Why would I need to hide?” Cautiously, Willow sat up.

Narrow-eyed, Tatiana studied her. Her painted lips finally spread into a malicious grin. “You honestly don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I’ll bet you didn’t show up at the welcome reception last night, did you?”

“Didn’t you notice?” Willow volleyed back. What kind of sister doesn’t discern whether or not her younger sibling was in attendance? She knew the answer to that one. Unless they were in direct competition with her for attention, a completely self-absorbed person like Tatiana rarely noticed any other woman in the room. And, since Willow clearly was no competition, Tatiana rarely knew—or cared about—her whereabouts.

Shaking her head so that her waves of bright, golden hair swung about her in a glorious cloud, Tatiana moved forward and perched on the chair at the side of Willow’s bed.

“The princes are here,” she said dreamily, though her bright violet eyes remained as sharp as ever. “Prince Eric is nearly as beautiful as me. And Prince Chad …”

Tatiana laughed, the sound so high-pitched and false Willow had to fight the urge to put her hands over her ears.

Tatiana’s perfect red lips widened into a mocking smile. “He’s perfect for you.”

Since Tatiana showed no signs of leaving and hadn’t yet arrived at the reason for her visit, Willow played along. “In what way? Is he also short and dark?”

“No. Quite the opposite. As a matter of fact, in his own way he’s very … appealing.” Tatiana gave a nervous laugh that was totally unlike her normal high-pitched giggle. This, along with the fact that her sister rarely even visited her room, made Willow instantly suspicious.

Slowly, she sat up, keeping as much of herself covered as she could for protection. She wouldn’t put it past her older sister to get in a few jabs about Willow’s lack of serious cleavage. About to ask for a second time what Tatiana wanted, Willow closed her mouth as Tatiana continued speaking.

“There’s a big breakfast this morning.” The words came out in a breathless rush, again not like her. “Since you missed the welcome reception last night, they’ve arranged for you to meet your intended in a few minutes over coffee and pastries. I was sent to fetch you.”

“A few minutes?” It took every ounce of restraint not to jump from her bed. Not only would she be rushed, but she’d be late for her worst nightmare. A big breakfast with a male stranger whom she was supposed to marry.

“I’ll stall them for you,” Tatiana offered.

Since her sister never did anything without expecting payment, Willow tilted her head. “Why would you do that?”

Tatiana abruptly fell silent, her huge violet eyes filling with tears. This made Willow instantly suspicious, as she knew her sister only cried to manipulate someone.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you lately,” Tatiana said. And there it was, or at least the beginnings of it. Exploitation. Though what Willow could possibly have that Tatiana would want, was beyond her.

Instead of acknowledging the apology, Willow simply crossed her arms and waited, knowing eventually Tatiana would get to the point.

But even she was shocked when her older sister suddenly burst into tears. And not fake tears either, but gut-busting, mascara-ruining real tears.

Chapter 3

After her initial surprise wore off, Willow got out of bed and hugged Tatiana awkwardly. Years ago, Tatiana had trained her that any attempt at touching her would not only be rebuffed, but ridiculed. Apparently, that rule had been suspended, at least temporarily.

Still silent, Willow patted her sister’s shoulder and let her cry.

“I don’t want to marry Prince Eric,” Tatiana finally sobbed, raising her mascara-stained face to Willow’s.

Doubly shocked, Willow stared. Tatiana’s ruined appearance, combined with her words, proved she actually meant it.

Aware she needed to tread carefully, Willow ventured a comment. “I thought he was the golden one, the prize among all princes.”

“And the way our two kingdoms can join forces against the Shadows,” Tatiana recited, as if by rote. “I know, I know.”

“You said he was beautiful.” In the past, appearances had been all that had mattered to her gorgeous older sister.

“He is, he is,” Tatiana moaned. “Like I said, he’s almost as beautiful as me.”

What would have been extreme vanity in others was a simple statement of fact. Tatiana was the most beautiful among the Bright. And all knew it.

Again, Willow waited, knowing it would be better if she didn’t speak just yet.

“But …” Tatiana began.

And here it came. The big but. For the life of her, Willow couldn’t figure out what it might be. Prince Eric was wealthy, powerful and the heir to the East-Ward throne. Once married to him, Tatiana would be in line to become Queen of the EastWard and, if their parents’ dream came true and the SouthWard and EastWard people united, Queen of all the Brights.

A power that had never before existed.

If Willow knew her big sister—and she did—it would have to be something awful to make her want to give up that much power.

“That’s the problem,” Tatiana sniffed. “He’s too beautiful. Everyone will be looking at him. No one will even notice me.”

Willow shook her head. “That’s not possible. And think of the adorable children you’d have.”

“Children born of two good-looking parents are usually ugly. And I’d rather …” When Tatiana didn’t finish but instead dissolved into another bout of sobbing, Willow continued to pat her back and wait her out.

Meanwhile, she tried to figure out why Tatiana was acting this way. Was she drunk? Had she gone without her much vaunted beauty rest for the entire night and this breakdown was because of simple exhaustion?

Or—and darker thoughts began to arise—was Prince Eric some kind of sadist? Had he—horrified, Willow swallowed hard—had he hurt Tatiana? Abused her in some way?

Finally, as Tatiana continued weeping, Willow prodded. “But?”

“I think I could fall in love with Prince Chad.”

“Huh?” Willow blinked. “Eric’s younger brother? The one our parents promised me to?”

Tatiana’s perfect, creamy skin blushed bright red. “Yes. And I’m quite certain he could love me, too, if he were given a chance.”

Skeptical, Willow crossed her arms. “And you determined this in, what, a few hours last night?”

Tatiana shook her head so vigorously her hair whipped Willow in the face. “Don’t say it like that.” Her sorrowful expression hardened. “You’ve always treated me like I was stupid. I’m not. When I see what I want, I know it. It’s as simple as that.”

Willow’s head had begun to ache. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to make sense of her sister’s words. “And you’re telling me this because you want me to do … what?”

Tatiana snapped her head up, her tears drying instantly. “Switch with me. Seduce Prince Eric. Make him want you.”

Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Switch with you? Listen to yourself. As if someone as perfect, as golden, as Bright as you’ve described would want someone like me over you.” Not to mention the outcry such a public rejection would cause. The gossip! The rumors! Tatiana would never live them down.

Which meant there had to be a catch. And because she was who she was—tigers didn’t change their stripes—Tatiana wouldn’t mention this catch until it was way too late for all involved.

In her childhood and teenage years, Willow had been down that road more times than she could count. She wouldn’t make this mistake again.

Her self-depreciating comment had pleased Tatiana. Grinning with a false modesty, she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “True, but Prince Chad has told me one something about his older brother that isn’t well known. Eric’s magic is weak, like yours. Again, I have to think of my future children.”

Since Willow’s magic was more than weak, it was nonexistent, she crossed her arms. “Prince Chad told you this why?”

“Were you not listening? I talked to them both last night. That’s how I know I can’t marry Eric. One, he’s too good-looking and two, he has inferior magic. Chad’s magic is as powerful as mine, plus he’s less beautiful than his older brother. He is much more to my liking.”

Stunned speechless, Willow considered her thoughts. Was this a simple case of Tatiana wanting whatever Willow had? No, she decided. Not possible. Especially since everyone knew Tatiana’s intended husband was every bit as beautiful as her.

“But the eldest son’s wife will be queen,” Willow said, trying another tactic.

“Of the EastWard Brights.” Tatiana shook her head. “You can have that.”

“You’d give up the throne?” This definitely meant Tatiana was up to something. Unfortunately, whatever it was wouldn’t be good for Willow.

“Only that throne,” Tatiana finally conceded. “I’d still be able to rule SouthWard once Mama and Daddy step down.”

“Which won’t be for a long time,” Willow put in.

Tatiana’s smile held a hint of darkness. “Oh, you never know. It might be sooner than you think.”

Did she plan to help things along? Willow shook her head. She didn’t really want to know. However, she’d need a mate with a lot of magical power if she planned to try and stage a coup. Which would explain her sudden desire for the younger, less handsome brother.

They were still eyeing each other when the door opened and Queen Millicent swept inside, peering at them with disapproval. “The breakfast will be in one hour and neither of you are ready? I expect this sort of behavior from Willow, but from you, Tatiana? Honestly.”

The queen had barely finished speaking when she caught sight of her first-born child’s red nose and face streaked with black. Instantly she rounded furiously on Willow.

“What have you done to your sister?” she hissed, gathering Tatiana close while her gaze shot daggers at her youngest daughter. “Today of all days she must look her absolute best and you’ve made her cry.”

Willow didn’t bother to try and form a response. She knew from experience that her mother wouldn’t believe her anyway.

Without waiting for an answer, the queen turned and shepherded Tatiana from the room. At the doorway, she paused, glaring back over her shoulder at Willow. “I’m going to take your sister and see if I can repair the damage you’ve done. As for you, get ready for the breakfast. All I ask is that you try to look decent.”

Willow nodded.

“Thank you.” Giving Tatiana’s hunched shoulders a hard squeeze, Millicent delivered the final shot. “After all, every dog will have its day. Don’t blow yours.”

“Wait, Mother.” Squirming out of the queen’s hold, Tatiana dashed over to Willow’s side. “Let me help her get ready. A little makeup will fix this.” She waved her perfectly manicured hand at her own face. “You know it’ll just take me a few minutes.”

“Fine.” Unable to refuse her eldest daughter anything, Queen Millicent nodded. “Just make sure you both are on time.” And with that, she left.

Tatiana sighed. “You don’t know what a burden it is being the eldest.”

It took every ounce of self-control Willow possessed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Try being the ugly duckling of the family.”

“No thanks.” The fact that Tatiana didn’t even bother trying to refute Willow’s words should have stung, but she supposed she was used to it.

“You have to make the best out of what you have.” Stalking over to the closet, Tatiana went through the day dresses. Finally, she pulled out one made of light blue watered silk, the sparkles interwoven into the fabric, which made them much less noticeable. The dress was dull by Bright standards, but Willow loved it. She hadn’t yet had an occasion to wear it.

“Whatever you do, don’t wear this one,” Tatiana ordered, tossing the gown on the floor as though it were garbage. “Wear something fun!”

She pulled out a hideous chiffon concoction of orange, hot pink and yellow, held it up and nodded. “This is perfect.” Tossing it at Willow, who miraculously caught it, she grinned. “See you in an hour.” Then she, too, swept from the room, slamming the door behind her.

The overpowering scent of heavy perfume lingered in the air.

Willow shook her head and tossed the frothy dress on her bed. She went to open the window and let in fresh air. Inhaling the smell of fresh pine, she gazed longingly at her beloved woods, missing the gentle creatures that lived there. They knew nothing of subterfuge and lies. They didn’t care that she didn’t look anything at all like a Bright was supposed to look. How she wished she could simply slip out of the castle unnoticed and escape to the forest.

Attempting to escape her life, that’s what she was doing. She’d done so many times already, running to the forest and lately, to the human world.

As she had when she’d danced with Prince Ruben.

The thought nearly made her smile. But, true to the way her luck seemed to go, even her one magical night was shattered by a bomb explosion. In the ensuing chaos, she’d tried to help as much as possible, escaping back to the veil at the last possible minute.

Home again. And now this. A meet-and-greet breakfast dressed in uncomfortable formal clothes. Already, the ball last night and the human prince who’d treated her as if she was beautiful felt like a dream, a fantasy.

With a heavy heart, Willow went to shower. When it came time to select something to wear, she chose the more discreetly elegant watered silk rather than the rainbow-colored chiffon. She could only imagine how Tatiana would roll her eyes when she saw that.

Willow sighed, bracing herself for the ordeal ahead. Even though she wanted no part of her sister’s secret plans, she knew she was about to walk smack-dab into the middle of them.

The next morning dawned with a leaden sky and the promise of rain whispering in the wind. The acrid scent of smoke and soot hung over everything, a constant reminder of the explosion and fire.

Heart heavy, Ruben accompanied his father, King Leo, in an inspection of the damage caused by the bomb. He’d gotten barely an hour of sleep, and most of that had been standing up when he took a quick, hot shower to cleanse the ash from his exhausted body.

The events of the previous night felt like a dream—meeting Willow, dancing and spending time with her. A promising dream that had been interrupted by a nightmare. He couldn’t believe the extremists were back. But who else would have done such a thing? Until he was given reason to think otherwise, he had to believe the extremists were behind the bombing. They always felt violence was the best way to prove a point.

Ruben didn’t understand this line of thought. Last time they’d set off bombs and had tried to harm his sister. The only thing they’d achieved had been jail sentences and widespread scorn and censure.

None of that had fazed them, he guessed. Because they’d regrouped and tried their foolish terroristic actions again. To what end? Ruben couldn’t see what they had hoped to gain by blowing up the palace. Did they even have a plan? Somehow he doubted it.

He suspected they were all crazy. What they wanted was impossible. They wanted Shape-shifters to be able to stay wolf longer than human. Even if such a thing were physically possible—which it was not—Ruben knew better than most how that could mess with one’s mind.

Pushing aside his thoughts, he walked with his father through the still smoldering rubble.

“We’re lucky no one was killed.” Grim faced, in the watery light King Leo looked older than his years. As he watched his normally jovial father shoulder the responsibility for the destruction, Ruben suppressed fury. The strong emotion stirred his wolf to instant alertness. The beast was spoiling for a fight.

He felt his father’s wolf respond in kind, which was unusual. Normally, both his parents’ beasts were sedate animals, content with their lot. Unless … Of course.

“How long has it been since you changed?” Ruben asked the king. Standing right next to each other, both their wolves could sense the other’s restlessness. As usual, at least lately, Ruben had difficulty keeping his under control. He watched as his father instantly subdued his own beast.

Ruefully, Leo smiled. “Quite a while, actually. I’ve been so busy. And now …” He spread his hands, visibly struggling with slipping control. “I don’t know when I’ll ever find the time.”

“You must,” Ruben began, stopping as he watched his father engage in a battle with his beast that felt both odd and eerily familiar. He’d encountered so many of these same battles himself recently.

The king’s inner wolf fought him, struggling to break out, to force a change. Since Ruben had never seen this happen with anyone beside himself, he watched helplessly.

“Sorry.” His father grimaced. “I’ve been fighting my wolf for a while now. I really need to make time to change.”

Ruben felt a combination of emotions. Sadness, fury and anticipation. He realized the latter was fueled by his own wolf. The animals were in sync about one thing—the urgent need to change.

A quick glance at his father made him realize the older man was having similar thoughts. “How about we go right after we finish with this?”

Ruben nodded. Sometimes it was easier—and safer—to give in.

Together they finished their inspection of the damaged area. Through it all, the sense of finality that the king wore like a cloak fascinated Ruben. He couldn’t help but compare his father’s issue to his own. Did King Leo share his son’s problems with his inner wolf, the constant battle to remain human, to maintain control, often with a high mental and physical cost? If so, Ruben wondered if that meant he wasn’t as abnormal and as isolated as he’d feared.

The potential felt enormous. Just the idea that he might not be alone in this felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He took his father’s arm, trying to frame the words properly so that he didn’t give too much away. “How long have you—”

Someone shouted for the king, cutting Ruben off before he could finish asking his question. As they hurried over, he figured maybe it was for the best. He could probably learn more by keeping his mouth shut and observing. He definitely didn’t want his father guessing that something serious might be wrong with his only son and heir.

As she quickly made up her bed, Willow saw something stuck between the pillow and the edge of the wall. Leaning in, she picked it up and froze. An earring. One of the dangly pearl earrings she’d worn last night. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. The ancient and valuable set had belonged to her mother and, as most of the queen’s jewelry did, contained magic only she could access. Willow had borrowed them without permission, intending to return them quickly, before her mother noticed. With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten about them.

One earring. Her hand shook as she cradled it in her palm. One perfect, slightly sooty, pearl earring with unknown magical powers. Oh, shades. The queen would certainly notice if the set wasn’t returned intact. She had to find the other.

Frantic, she looked. A search of her bedding revealed nothing. Ditto under the bed and on the surrounding floor. Think, Willow. Think. Since she’d obviously showered last night with the jewelry on—how could she have been so oblivious?—she checked the bathroom and the shower. Nothing.

Shadefire and double shadefire. Heart sinking, she tried to think. One of her mother’s perfect pearl earrings was missing. How long until her mother noticed? The way Willow’s luck seemed to be running, the queen would decide to wear them today. She’d fly into a rage when she couldn’t find them. And Willow knew where her mother would look first. Not to Tatiana. No, Willow would have a lot of explaining to do.

After the breakfast, she had to find the other. If it wasn’t here … Her pulse skipped a beat. She must have left it in Teslinko, at the prince’s palace, most likely somewhere in the ashy ruins of the ballroom. After the breakfast, she’d return there. That is, if she could sneak away without anyone noticing, and try to find it.

Plan made, she hurried to get ready for the breakfast, well aware her mother wouldn’t appreciate it if she was late after her conspicuous absence at the welcome reception the night before.

And she’d have to do her best to steer clear of whatever scheme her sister was concocting. She had enough trouble already. No sense in borrowing any more.

“Something is going on with my sister,” Tatiana murmured to Prince Chad. She liked him, she really did. They’d been seated next to each other at the breakfast table, Chad on her left and her betrothed, Prince Eric, on her right.

Chad’s faded violet gaze sharpened. “How so?”

Since Willow hadn’t shown up yet, and he had no idea what kind of bride their combined parents had saddled him with, she hid her smile and shook her head, sending her glorious hair swaying. “I’m not certain. I’ll watch her and see if I can get her to tell me.”

He nodded, already looking bored with the subject. As he held her left hand under the table, he’d begun drawing circles in the middle of her palm with his thumb. She shivered, unable to believe how erotic such a small touch could be.

That, plus the fact that he dared take such liberties right under the watchful eye of his brother made it doubly thrilling.

They were two of a kind, she and Prince Chad. If Willow wouldn’t play along, Tatiana would try some other scheme to switch bridegrooms.

“What are you two talking about?” Eric turned and leaned closer, his perfect white teeth flashing in a face that carried exactly the right amount of tan. Studying him, from his patrician features and bright violet eyes, to his hair the exact same shade of gold as hers, Tatiana knew on the surface that no one would understand why she didn’t want him. He was perfect, every girl’s dream of a prince. Like Prince Charming in the old stories.

In looks, he was exactly like her. Her mirror image.

Tatiana never fooled herself or tried to hide from her flaws. She was, she knew, vain and shallow and often bad tempered. The most important person in her life was, and would always be, herself. She didn’t care about others’ feelings or charity work or any kind of endeavor that might involve selfless giving. She adored luxuries, adulation and being cosseted, not necessarily in that order.

She sensed Prince Eric was the exact same way. Like her inside as well as out. She’d known instinctively an instant after meeting him. Left alone together for too long, they’d either kill each other or—and this was more likely—their relationship would eventually dissolve into icy indifference. After that, the affairs and love children and scandals and misery would swiftly follow. The stain on her reputation would be more than she could bear.

There were quick scandals—such as what would happen if she switched fiancés—and those that were soul-sucking, psyche-damaging and lasted for an eternity. Marriage to Eric would cause the latter.

Therefore, Tatiana would not marry him, regardless of what her parents had promised his. The way she figured, she had one way out, as unlikely as it might seem. Her plan was comprised of two parts. First, she had to get Prince Eric to fall in love with her younger sister.

And second, she had to make Price Chad fall in love with her.

The second part was easy. No man had ever been able to resist her once she started batting her long lashes his way. Judging from his hand-holding activity, Prince Chad would prove to be no exception.

Yet another challenge that wasn’t. Oddly disappointing, that.

Tatiana found she genuinely liked the younger prince, at least on first impression. Though also fair skinned with golden hair and about the same height, he lacked a certain symmetry of features, and was a rugged-looking man rather than a beautiful one. Personality-wise, she could already tell he was as different from his older brother as she was from her younger sister.

Plus, she suspected he worshipped her already, which in her opinion would make their union a match made in heaven. One absolute in her life was that she needed to be the worshippee rather than the worshipper.

“Would you fetch me some more coffee, my dear?” With a smarmy smile, Prince Eric tapped her on the shoulder like she was his personal maid.

Stiffening, Tatiana fought the urge to tell him to get it himself. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “We have servants for that. All you need to do is hold up your hand and signal one of the waitstaff. See, there are several standing over by the silver coffee urn.”

Instead of being mollified, he pouted. “I’d rather you get it. Such a personal gesture carries so much meaning, don’t you think?”

Right, she thought. So much meaning. In a sad little way, he was right, because if she scurried to do his bidding, she’d be setting a precedent for the rest of their lives together. That is, if she was unlucky enough to actually marry him. She simply had to finagle her way out of this.

Clenching her jaw, she kept her pretty smile in place. No, she wouldn’t be jumping up to fetch and carry for him. Not now, not ever.

Pretending to misunderstand, she tilted her head. “Of course. I’ll do it.” And she lifted her hand, signaling a servant over. “Prince Eric needs more coffee.”

Immediately, the waiter brought over a new, piping-hot cup and set it down in front of the prince.

“There you go,” Tatiana said brightly, pretending not to notice Eric’s frown as he gaped at her, apparently stunned into silence that she hadn’t jumped when he had snapped his fingers. “Next time, you’ll know what to do so you can get it yourself.”

And with that small insult, she turned back to her left, keeping her sweet and slightly dopey smile in place. She’d learned early on that her beauty tended to intimidate men. Yet if she acted less intelligent, that one flaw appeared to negate the other, at least as far as they were concerned.

While Eric stewed silently, Chad leaned closer, smiling a small, secretive smile. “Well done,” he murmured. “Most women are so busy fawning all over him. I wager he has no idea how to react to one who doesn’t.”

Pleased, Tatiana took a sip of her own coffee, now lukewarm. She wished she could say more, but she had to be careful not to overplay her hand.

Speaking of which, Prince Chad squeezed hers under the table, apparently intent on continuing his sensual thumb massage.

Enough. Aware of the dangers of acquiescing too early, she moved both her hands to the top of the table, folding one over the other and pretending to inspect her flawless manicure.

He gave a snort of laughter, which she ignored.

Casually she glanced at her watch. Where the hell was Willow? Their mother had been quite clear in letting her know that she was to attend this breakfast on time. First she’d missed the welcome reception and now this? Already she was over thirty minutes late.

A quick glance at Queen Millicent showed her mother had definitely noticed and was greatly displeased. Though she kept her face expressionless, well aware of the consequences brought on by a frown, the queen’s eyes snapped with annoyance.

About to push to her feet and fetch her sister, Tatiana breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened and Willow strolled inside. Tatiana noticed her sister had not taken her advice and had chosen to wear the blue silk dress.

Both men turned to look. Inside, Tatiana prayed Prince Eric would somehow find Willow attractive, if only because of the sharp contrast between her coloring and everyone else’s.

Apparently, the weight of everyone’s stares made Willow falter. She nearly stumbled, regaining her balance only at the last moment and flashing the group a weak smile. “Good morning, everyone,” she murmured.

Even though this dress wasn’t as flashy as what most considered fashionable and Tatiana herself wouldn’t be caught dead in it, reluctantly she approved. She had long ago noticed that Willow looked better when she wore less glitz and glam. She had no idea why that would be so—in her opinion, the more glitter the better—but it was true.

And the sky-blue color of the gown made Willow’s dusky complexion glow. She had, Tatiana noticed, even taken the time to twist her long, dark hair into a chignon. If she was feeling charitable, Tatiana might even say her sister looked … pretty. In an odd, shadowy sort of way.

To Tatiana’s right, Prince Eric puffed out his chest, believing here would be another easy conquest. To her left, Prince Chad went very, very still. As Willow approached with her father, King Puck, in order for him to make the introduction, Tatiana noticed the younger EastWard prince’s set jaw. He narrowed his eyes at the woman he’d been promised to marry. If anything, he looked furious.

Good, she thought with satisfaction. Evidently he hadn’t been told of the youngest princess’s physical shortcomings. And there was no way he could know Willow had no magic, either. Which was fine with Tatiana, since she planned to tell him herself. Once he believed himself to be doomed to marry such an ugly, non-magical woman, Prince Chad would be that much riper for the picking. He’d crumple under the massive assault she had planned.

She watched from under her lashes as his nostrils flared, obviously trying to maintain a bland expression.

She’d seen men do that before, though usually they’d been looking at her, overcome by her loveliness and trying not to show it.

All her life, Tatiana had been the beautiful one. Sought-after, cosseted, beloved eldest daughter. The world was more than her oyster—it was her pearl. And her baby sister, Willow, had proved to be the perfect foil, reflecting back Tatiana’s beauty and amplifying it by comparison.

For that, Tatiana was grateful, though she’d never expressed her gratitude to Willow. How could she, when to do so would mortally offend the younger woman?

Both of the EastWard princes watched Willow walk toward them, appearing riveted. Tatiana knew that had to be a ruse. They didn’t fool her. After all, who know better than her what men wanted?

Chapter 4

Here we go, Willow told herself as she propelled herself forward, aiming for the single empty chair at the table. She tried to move gracefully, even though exhaustion from the night before made her legs feel hollow and wobbly. Eyeing her sister as she approached, she wondered why Tatiana looked so smug, like a cat that had wandered across a mouse farm.

Of course the moment she took her attention from what she was supposed to be doing, Willow stumbled. She flailed her arms in a passable imitation of a windmill, nearly tearing her dress in her painful attempt to keep from falling flat on her face.

Despite the exhausted weakness of her traitorous body, she miraculously managed to keep standing.

Both princes immediately leaped to their feet to offer their assistance. Face flaming, she waved them away, not missing the wry look her father gave her.

At least her family was used to her complete lack of social skills. While this was her first fall, she was frequently guilty of other faux pas, like saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time. No doubt these two visiting princes had heard stories about her. Even as they once again took their seats, their backs stiff and unyielding, she felt their silence as a form of judgment. She didn’t even try to look at her mother, already aware of the furious condemnation she’d find there.

Instead she glanced again at her sister. Tatiana only tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Normally, she would have made cruel jokes and laughed meanly. Instead, she sat solemnly, her golden beauty glowing, a sympathetic look on her beautiful face. False, but sympathetic nonetheless.

Weird. Really, really weird.

As she resumed her progress toward her seat, remembering what her sister had said, Willow tried to check out their visitors surreptitiously. Tatiana sat between the two princes, their three fair heads the exact same glorious gold, their eyes varying shades of violet, though close enough that they might have been related.

They were perfect examples of the Bright. As shimmering, as golden, as Willow was not. In fact, all of them were as unlike her as it was possible to be. Yet this time, she refused to let them make her feel … less. Because she knew she wasn’t. Prince Ruben had shown her this. If only for one night. She’d felt beautiful, perfect, shining. As she never had before. She wanted to keep that feeling close to her for as long as she could.

The only empty chair for her sat next to the man on Tatiana’s left, which meant he must be the younger son, the one her parents intended her to wed.

Her father stood and pulled out the chair as she approached, glaring at her as though he dared her not to do anything else to humiliate herself and by proxy, them. Only when she was safely seated did he speak.

“Prince Chad, may I present my youngest daughter, the Princess Willow.”

Chad stood, his expression shuttered. He didn’t meet her gaze while he bowed over her fingers. Since this was a formal breakfast, protocol dictated that he kiss her hand, something Willow had always hated. Some kisses were too much, slimy and wet. Others were dry, reminding her of snakes and bats. She’d endured them all time and time again, ever since she’d been a small girl. Always, there was no escaping this archaic ritual, so she suffered through it with a bland smile. When Prince Chad met her smile with an ironic one of his own, she realized he must hate the old-fashioned greeting as much as she did.

His mouth moved over her hand, the barest whisper.

Finally, he released her, dipping his cleft chin in a mock bow. The small glimmer of hilarity she saw in his violet gaze warmed her. Surprising. She thought she might actually like this man, despite his too-good-to-be-true handsomeness.

The other—Prince Eric, no doubt—leaned across in front of Tatiana, his corded arm scraping her considerable bosom, causing Tatiana to draw her breath in a sharp hiss. If he noticed, he paid her no heed, fixing his bright violet eyes on Willow and flashing a dazzling smile that would have been painfully beautiful if it weren’t so practiced.

“I’m Prince Eric,” he intoned, his rich baritone both deliberately seductive and impossibly arrogant. Tatiana’s intended. Willow nodded in acknowledgment.

As her sister had mentioned, Eric was beautiful, in the same way as Tatiana. They were both flawless, golden and oh-so-Bright. Together, they would make a breathtaking couple. And their children would be perfect visions of Brightness. She tried to ignore the envy that coiled in her stomach.

Instead, she opened her mouth to pay them the compliment, remarking on their great beauty and how that would affect their potential offspring. She then realized Tatiana might not appreciate it, especially after what she’d said earlier.

“Pleased to meet you,” Willow said lamely instead.

Was that actually amusement that flashed in her sister’s bright violet eyes?

Though she’d already taken her seat, Chad began to fuss with her chair, ostensibly to help her get settled comfortably. She glanced sideways at him and felt … nothing. Which actually was a relief. He was no Prince Ruben, that was for sure.

The thought startled her. Merely thinking of the human prince made her entire body feel warm. Until she remembered the earring—oh, her mother’s pearl earring—and her stomach turned.

Her mother’s precious, no-doubt-magical, pearl earrings. Precious, not only because of the pearl, but because of the magical power contained within, although only their true owner knew how to use them properly.

She glanced at the queen. Luckily, though she’d decked herself out in a dazzling array of jewels for this breakfast, evidently her mother hadn’t yet realized they were missing. Willow crossed her fingers, hoping her luck held out long enough for her to travel through the veil and retrieve the lost one. Whether or not the baubles were magical, they belonged to Millicent and thus, were valuable beyond compare.

She had to find it. Or there would be hell to pay. Her mother would make sure of that. Therefore, failure wasn’t an option.

When she looked up again, she realized Prince Chad was watching her, as though trying to discern her thoughts. She pasted on her best social smile and pretended to be interested in the table arrangement.

As the servants stepped forward with an array of delicacies, her stomach growled, making her realize she was actually starving. Left to her own devices, she’d have preferred to break her fast with a hot bowl of oatmeal and fresh berries, but instead she allowed her plate to be filled with scrambled eggs, grits and sourdough toast. Though the meal looked heavy, the scent of freshly cooked food made her mouth water.

Glad to have something to do with her hands, she dug in, halfheartedly listening to the conversation swirling around her while she chewed and tried to develop a plan.

“Bright to Willow.” Prince Chad gave her a gentle nudge, nearly causing her to spew her orange juice. She gasped instead, choked and unfortunately began coughing, her eyes filling with tears as she grabbed her napkin to cover her mouth.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sounding concerned, even though a bit of ironic humor lurked in his gaze.

“Swallowed wrong,” she gasped out, waving him away. When she finally looked up, helpless, wishing she could make a quick exit from the room, everyone at the table was ogling her as though she’d grown two heads.

Some things never changed. Except they had, last night at the ball in Teslinko. That night, everything had been ideal.

She gave them a sickly smile, grabbed her napkin and wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. When she did, she saw her mascara had run and that she’d ruined her makeup. Another addition to a morning already gone bad.

Briefly, she considered excusing herself and either going to repair it or—and she liked this one better—excusing herself and never coming back. Only the steely look in her mother’s eyes warned her that she’d better not try either.

“Pssst, Willow.” Leaning around the back of Prince Chad, Tatiana rapped her on the shoulder.

Resigned, Willow leaned back. Now her sister would make sure her humiliation was complete. “Yes?”

“Lean closer,” Tatiana ordered, making Willow wonder what she was up to. Tatiana had many cruel tricks in her repertoire; she’d been perfecting them since the two were children together.

Still, Willow’d learned either to do as Tatiana asked or risk making a scene. Another scene. She leaned closer, crossing her fingers that her sister wouldn’t be too harsh this time.

“Hold still.” With gentle hands, Tatiana cleaned her face. Stunned, Willow couldn’t move. When her sister made a second pass, using some kind of compact makeup to repair the damage, Willow couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just had her face painted bright green or something.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked, careful not to touch Prince Chad’s rigid back. Unsure of the protocol, the prince was doing his best to eat and pretend the two women weren’t having a conversation directly behind him. Grudgingly, she found she admired that, too.

Meanwhile, at the head of the table Prince Eric carried on a one-sided conversation with her parents. Either he was trying to help distract them, he was oblivious, or just didn’t care. Willow was betting on the latter.

A rueful look from Tatiana showed she thought the same thing. Finally, she finished fixing Willow’s face. “There you go, sis. Good as new.”

Since Tatiana had never called her sis in her life, Willow wasn’t sure how to react. “Thanks,” she finally muttered, trying not to watch as Tatiana flashed a warm smile before turning away to pick at her own, mostly uneaten breakfast.

Uneasy, Willow tried to do the same. The food on her plate had grown cold, but she was still hungry, so she doggedly ate it anyway.

Everyone else resumed their breakfast, as well.

While they ate, Prince Eric continued to talk, often with his mouth full, a lapse in manners that normally would have horrified her mother. But no, a quick glance at the queen showed her mother pretended to hang on Eric’s every word.

But by the time he got around to bragging about his talents with horsemanship, Queen Millicent’s patience had obviously frayed. Mouth a thin line, she sipped at her coffee and glowered at the young man.

Finally, her father, experienced at deflecting this sort of thing, deliberately shifted the conversation to include Tatiana and Willow. As King Puck went on about their prowess on horseback, Willow felt her eyes glaze over.

Chad, too, barely stifled a yawn.

After listening to this for a few minutes, Eric magnanimously decided they must all go riding after the meal.

Gazing at Chad, Tatiana smiled and breathlessly agreed.

Willow clenched her jaw and continued eating. Riding. On horses. Where she’d be expected to pretend to be gracious and magical and … Bright. Everything she was not. This would be another possibility for an epic disaster.

Though Willow didn’t demure, she had no intention of accompanying them. This was her perfect opportunity. While they were out riding, she’d have time to get to the veil and cross over to Teslinko. With any luck, she could find the missing magical earring and be back before anyone even noticed she’d been gone.

After all the plates had been cleared, everyone dispersed to get dressed in their riding gear. They had agreed to meet at the barn in half an hour. Rather than give an excuse and waste valuable time, Willow planned to simply not show up.

She had to hurry. Dutifully heading to her room, she rushed down the hallway with her heart pounding. She prayed no one—particularly Tatiana—would follow her. She needed a few minutes to change—into jeans rather than breeches—and then make her escape into the woods.

This one time, at least, she hoped her prayer was answered.

She took a deep breath. The meeting with the EastWard princes had rattled her more than she’d expected. Though Prince Chad seemed charming enough, something about him unsettled her. She suspected it was the possibility that they were a bit alike. Used to living unnoticed in the huge shadow cast by their perfect older sibling, like her, he was able to do many things unnoticed. Slipping underneath the family’s radar was a trick she’d perfected ever since she could walk. Chad most likely did the same. She had the feeling he saw way too much. For once Tatiana had been intuitive rather than self-absorbed.

A knock on her door startled her. Heart pounding, she opened it. Chad.

“I didn’t want to go riding, either,” he said, flashing an easy smile. “How about we go for a walk and get to know each other?”

Stars. Her plans not so secret anymore, she said the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be the truth. “I can’t. I’ve lost one of my mother’s earrings and I’ve got to find it. Once I do, I’ll come looking for you, all right?”

To her relief, he dipped his head in a nod and left her alone. She closed her door and locked it, willing her rapid heart rate to slow.

After changing into jeans and boots, feeling much calmer, she went to her window and, grasping the trellis that she’d had installed a few years ago as an escape route, climbed down the outside wall. She looked both to the left and the right and seeing no one, she hurried away and slipped into the woods. Her woods.

The moment the shadowy forest enveloped her, all the tension left her. The scent of damp earth and leaves, pine and oak filled her senses. The dappled sunlight felt welcoming and warm. Here, she felt at home as she did nowhere else. She rolled her shoulders, breathing deeply, her footsteps quiet on the cushion of leaves.

Nearby she sensed several of the numerous forest creatures she’d befriended, but she didn’t call them to her as she usually did. Time was of the essence today. She had to get to Teslinko, find the missing magical earring and return to SouthWard before anyone noticed she was missing.

With this in mind, she hurried toward the veil. Once she thought she had heard footsteps behind her, but when she had slipped behind a tree to listen and watch, there was no one.

Because it never hurt to be careful, she picked up her pace. Dead leaves crackled underfoot as she hurried toward the portal.

Jogging, then sprinting, she found herself breathless by the time the shimmering power of the veil made itself known. She felt it long before she finally saw it, but once she did, she leaped forward, leaving her home the same way she’d returned, as though a demon from hell was on her heels.

Only this time, one actually was.

Prince Chad of EastWard couldn’t decide whether to be amused or angry that the SouthWard royalty had thought to marry him off to their youngest daughter. Obviously, Willow wasn’t of pure royal blood, not looking like that.

Again, he grimaced. Not that Willow was ugly. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was just … different. Both her parents had the standard Bright appearance—blond hair, violet eyes and pale skin. Like all the SouthWard and EastWard people. The Bright. Boring, but the epitome of both feminine and masculine beauty, as far as he was concerned.

No, Willow looked more like the Shadows. The people of the north and west—the Shadows—were completely different in their appearance. They were the polar opposite of the Bright. With her dark hair and dusky skin, Willow easily must have come from either NorthWard or WestWard. She was the quite obvious by-blow of some Shadow lover.

Which meant the rumors were true. For years, it had been whispered that Queen Millicent had strayed with one of the Shadow princes. Willow obviously was the result of that union. Evidently King Puck hadn’t wanted to risk humiliation and had accepted her as his own.

Furious, Chad clenched his jaw. As second son, he was always given second best. Once again, as eldest, Eric would get the most beautiful daughter. The bastard one, who was rumored to have weak magic as well, would be foisted off on Chad.

Like that would ever happen. Though he grudgingly admitted Willow had her own exotic beauty, he could never marry a woman who looked like that. There were his future offspring to consider. His children. Mating with her would risk tainting his bloodline.

Acknowledging this, he realized something else. She intrigued him. Something about her innocent sensuality appealed to his bloodthirsty nature.

While he couldn’t marry her, he still wanted her. He’d freely admit that Willow of the SouthWard fascinated him, unlike her sister who—like his brother, Eric—had absolutely no secrets. Willow moved with an unconsciously sensual grace, and the slight tilt of her almond eyes was alluring. Her lush mouth gave her an earthy sexual appeal.

Though he knew she wasn’t aware of it, Willow had passion simmering underneath her complacent, dusky beauty. Chad thought he might just be the one to awaken that in her, even if he had to use honeyed lies and false caresses.

He wouldn’t marry her, but he would have her. Of that he was determined. His brother Prince Eric might be showy, but Chad always got what he wanted, no matter how underhanded the methods he had to use to obtain it.

Always.

His initial fury subsided. This entire situation had actually surprised him, not an easy feat these days. When the marriage between Eric and the spectacularly lovely Tatiana had been arranged, the South-Ward royal couple had wanted to throw their youngest daughter into the bargain. Chad had thought it a bit odd, but what the hell. Eric was expected to marry and produce an heir. It would be to Chad’s advantage to do the same, just in case something happened to his elder brother. And you never know, he thought wickedly. Something just might.

An earring, eh? Even better, a magical earring belonging to Queen Millicent. Who knew what impressive powers the piece of jewelry might contain? Willow might have lost it, but if he could find it before her …

Whistling under his breath, he’d rounded the back corner of the palace just in time to see the Princess Willow climbing down a trellis and taking off into the woods. Alone, acting as if she had feared being caught.

Chad hadn’t even stopped to think. Intrigued, he’d followed her, intent on learning her destination without her discovering his pursuit. No doubt she went in search of the earring.

Adrenaline fueled him as he rushed through the forest, taking care not to let his quarry catch a glimpse of him. Amazed that he’d discovered a new way to get his heart pumping without drawing blood and causing pain, he grinned.

He pushed the thought away, continued his pursuit, going from tree to tree, using the underbrush as cover. She was easy to track as she took no care to hide her presence, clearly believing no one would ever attempt to follow her.

Even as she hurried through the forest, there was something sensual about her. As if this was where she belonged, he thought with a startling flash of clarity.

The idea nearly made him stumble. More than any of the other Brights, he’d studied many of the types of beings in the human realm. There were the Shape-shifters that called themselves Pack, and then Vampires, Mer-people, Warlocks, Wizards, Witches, Tearlachs and those that were a various combination of these.

Many had their own powers, but none of them had the inherent magical abilities that his people, the Bright, and the others of his kind, the Shadows, had. Each form of magic was different. The Brights controlled the elements of air and of fire, while the Shadows had earth and water.

Except for Willow, who was rumored to have no magic at all.

When she had stopped, he had ducked behind a tree. He felt the shift in the air, raising the fine hair on his arms, and frowned. What the …? The feel of magic crawled along his skin. Magic. What was she doing? Peering out at her, he realized the magic wasn’t emanating from her slight figure. Then where?

Now he concentrated. Using his inherent magical ability, he sensed the gate long before he realized what it was, slipping out from behind a tree just long enough to see Willow hurl herself into the shimmering space and vanish.

His heartbeat kicked into overdrive. A portal. Shades of fire, could things get any more interesting? He thought not. Now to see what lay on the other side.

Striding forward, he stepped into the veil and let the magic take him where it may.

Chapter 5

After watching his father hold the press conference, Ruben had given his statement to the police. When he’d finished, King Leo was waiting for him.

Together, they’d walked the perimeter of the ruined ballroom, inspecting the damage and dictating their report to the attending scribe. Now that the damage to the castle had been noted and repairs scheduled, Ruben knew he should rest. Beyond exhaustion, he wondered how he had kept from doing a face-plant into the rubble.

As he turned to ask his father’s leave so he might grab a few hours of sleep, the wolf inside him protested. Lunging at an invisible barrier, the animal wanted out. As did his father’s beast.

Clearly equally exhausted, King Leo gave him a rueful grin. “Your wolf is restless. Mine is responding in kind. Since they won’t let us sleep, are you up for a quick change and run?”

Fighting to hold back his inner beast, Ruben nodded. “When?”

“How about now?”

As his father clapped his hand on his shoulder, Ruben finished corralling his wolf into temporary submission. He grinned up at the older man. “That’s one of the reasons I love you, Dad. The ability to make quick decisions.”

This compliment made the king laugh. “Quick and good, I hope,” he said.

“Do you mind if I bring York?” Ruben asked. “He’d love a good run. He’s been cooped up since the ball last night.” His German shepherd dog had been brought up with the Pack and often accompanied him on trips into the woods. When Ruben changed, the dog eagerly ran at his wolf self’s side.

“Sure.” King Leo loved the large dog almost as much as Ruben did.

Rather than go all the way back into the castle and locate the kennel master who was looking after York, Ruben dialed him up on his cell phone. A moment later, he whistled and the huge dog came flying around the corner toward them.

“Settle, boy.” Ruben calmed him with a few words and a light touch. King Leo stroked York’s silky head also.

“Let’s go.” Ruben waved the dog ahead of them. Tongue lolling, York gladly led the way.

King Leo chuckled. “Too bad that’s a dog, not a wolf. If anyone ever sees us all together, there will be talk in the village about the giant shepherd who runs with a pack of wolves.”

Ruben chuckled, knowing his father’s words were true. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” the king answered. Side by side, they strolled out of the castle, both in relatively good humor despite their weariness.

Walking down the path past the bench where Ruben had rested with Willow, Ruben again wondered where she’d gone. To all outward appearances, she’d disappeared into the same forest they were going to in order to shape-shift into wolves. Maybe as wolf, he could find a clue.

He didn’t want anything to interfere with this moment so he pushed the thought from his mind and bumped his father with his shoulder. His father bumped him back.

Both wearing identical faint smiles, they continued, companionably silent, along a well-trod path that wove through the dense woods in a seemingly random pattern. Centuries ago their ancestors had cleared this path and built the small stone temple at the end of it. All for the sole purpose of enabling the royal family to have a private—and beautiful—place to shape-shift from human form to wolf.

When they rounded the last turn and the ancient temple was no longer hidden, King Leo shook his head and let out a long breath. “I need this, my boy!”

Then, as Ruben was about to agree, the older man took off running. “Last one to change is a rotten rabbit!”

After a moment of shock—they both had been up all night, after all—Ruben leaped forward. Taking up the challenge, he tore after his father. They reached the old building roughly at the same time, though the king won by mere inches.

“Not bad for a man my age,” he huffed.

Ruben had to agree.

Still chuckling and slightly out of breath, they stepped inside, shedding their clothes as they went.

King Leo was the first to change. Ruben had barely gotten undressed when the air around his father began to shimmer, heralding the beginnings of the change. With his own wolf raging to be free, Ruben dropped to the ground and counted to three. Then he let the change rip through him as his wolf rejoiced to be free.

A moment later, two wolves stood in the spot where before there’d been two men. King Leo was a huge graying beast, while Ruben’s pelt was close to the same sable color of his human hair.

Muzzle to muzzle, they inhaled each other’s scent. Then, with a glad bark, Ruben took off, aware of his father racing at his side.

Later, much later, with the hunt completed and their wolves sated happy, and pleasantly worn out, they headed back toward the changing temple, luxuriating in their heightened wolf senses. As a human, Ruben relied primarily on sight. As a wolf, he used his nose. He missed that super sense of smell when he existed as man. He felt its absence with a sort of sharp sorrow.

It was good to have this experience with his father. These days they didn’t get to spend enough time together.

As they neared the path that would take them back to the old temple, Ruben felt a disturbance in the air. A shift, a slight breeze, a shiver up his spine. Nothing tangible, at least not by scent or by sight. A quick glance at his father revealed the older wolf felt it, too.

Instantly, they went low to the ground, seeking cover under vegetation. His sharp lupine hearing picked up a sound and he went still. Footsteps. Human. Uttering a low growl in the back of his throat, he glanced at his father. The other wolf dropped to his belly, well hidden. Ruben did the same.

He smelled her before he saw her. The scent, tantalizingly familiar. And the instant the woman’s dark head came into view, he knew why.

Willow.

His father growled, making Ruben realize he’d moved forward. A foolish and futile move. She wouldn’t know him now, not as wolf. And where had she come from? He’d swear she’d simply appeared from thin air. Whatever she was, she wasn’t Pack, wasn’t Shifter. But she wasn’t human, either. Her scent was off.

She’d appeared in the middle of the royal ancestral woods. Nothing that way but forest and mountains. Where on earth had she come from? Maybe, he found himself thinking cynically, she hadn’t come from anywhere on this earth.

The instant the thought occurred to him, he shook his head. Fanciful and ridiculous, even for a man who shape-shifted from human to wolf.

Then again, there was something different about her. Once more he wondered if she had somehow been involved in the explosion. But if so, why was she alone? She would have needed help to pull off a blast on the scale of the one that had taken down part of the castle.

Still hidden, the wolves let her pass. And remained hidden, as they were about to rise when their keen ears had picked up more footsteps. This time, Ruben did not recognize the scent. He only knew it, too, was not human.

And when the unfamiliar man wearing odd clothing appeared a few moments later, they let him pass, as well.

Though this time, Ruben wanted to trail him. A quick glance at his father showed he concurred. They set off together, easily able to stay out of sight.

Willow arrived at the castle right before the noon meal, which was perfect. If everyone was occupied with either preparing a meal or eating, that gave her a better chance of slipping in and out of the place unnoticed.

Though she’d been there when the bomb had gone off, how the destruction looked in broad daylight still shocked her. The section of the castle where, only hours before, there’d been music and dancing had been reduced to rubble. And, she saw as she drew closer, she realized the royal family of Teslinko had placed guards over the entire area.

Not good, especially since that’s where she suspected she’d lost the earring.

So much for moving around unnoticed. Now what?

Though initially she’d planned to skirt around the damaged area and enter through the kitchen, trying to pass herself off as kitchen staff, there was no way to get near the castle without getting past the guards. And, since she didn’t have a legitimate reason to enter, she knew she wouldn’t get far.

She glanced down at her jeans and faded T-shirt; she didn’t look like royalty. Even though, on the other side of the veil, she actually was.

Backtracking, she slid into the shadows before anyone noticed her. Heart pounding like a trapped bird, she weighed her options. There was one other place she could try. When she and Prince Ruben had stood on the balcony off the main ballroom, she’d noticed another couple balconies farther down the castle wall. Several of them were near large trees. It was a long shot, but at the moment, her only option.

Going around the perimeter didn’t take as long as she’d expected. Still keeping to the cover of the forest, she passed up the first two balconies as too close to the wrecked part of the castle and far too visible. And, while the second and third had some tree cover, neither was close enough to any limbs.

Finally, on the fourth balcony, she thought she had a winner. Three large trees formed a triangle and two of them had branches that extended out nearly to the balcony’s edge. Even better, one of the trees looked easily climbable.

Glad of her jeans, she went around to the opposite side of the large tree so she’d be hidden in case a guard happened to look this way. Shimmying up the trunk was more difficult than she’d expected, but she made good progress and reached the lower part of the balcony without any trouble.

Glancing one more time toward the guards, she realized she couldn’t even see them. Perfect. She climbed up another foot or two, then took a deep breath, grasped the largest of the four branches and swung herself out over the balcony. And then she let go.

Landing was awkward and loud and only slightly painful. She stayed crouched on the floor while she assessed the damage to her body. Not bad. Only her ankle hurt and it wasn’t that bad. She doubted it was even strained.

Waiting another moment to see if she’d been noticed, she pushed herself to her feet and went to try the door. To her surprise, it wasn’t locked. All of her intuitive alarms began chiming. This was too easy.

She thought about abandoning her attempt and leaving it for another day. Then she pictured her mother’s reaction if she noticed the missing earring and decided to go for it. In the end she didn’t really have a choice.

So she pushed open the door and boldly stepped inside.

Like some sort of supernatural caravan, Ruben and his father followed the man who followed Willow. Of course the two high Royals of Teslinko remained in wolf form. They hadn’t taken the time to change back to human. Yet.

From the shelter of a grove of aspens, the stranger stopped to watch as Willow shimmied up the tree. They all saw her drop onto a balcony, try the door and go inside.

Apparently satisfied, the other man turned and went back the way he’d come. Clearly unaware that he’d been followed, he made no attempt to hide his passing.

Ruben glanced at his father. Since as wolves they couldn’t speak, he whined once, jerking his head in the direction of the stone temple.

King Leo shook his shaggy gray pelt and made for their castle instead. Ruben understood and followed. It would take too long for them to return to the stone temple in the woods and change back to human.

Their captain of the guards was Pack. He kept several changes of clothing stashed in the guard house just in case. They’d change there. That way, they could get inside and catch Willow before she had a chance to plant another bomb.

And, Ruben thought grimly as he loped alongside his father toward the guard house, he’d send some soldiers to find that man in the woods. Just in case.

Again, Ruben realized he’d underestimated his wolf. Once allowed to take form, the beast resisted the necessary change back to human. Heart pounding, Ruben battled his inner animal, praying his father was sufficiently distracted and didn’t notice the savage fight.

Ruben won and forced the change back to human. Each time, it grew more and more difficult. He could easily foresee a day when the wolf would win and he’d remain in his lupine form forever. On that day, he knew he’d slide over the last slippery slope to madness.

What worried him was how badly he wanted to.

A few minutes later, human and fully clothed, King Leo and Ruben alerted the guards. Men were dispatched to the woods to search for the stranger, and the palace was quietly put on high alert. Willow would be caught and interrogated. Ruben hoped she wouldn’t resist. Despite everything, he didn’t want her hurt.

Yet.

Of course he’d already decided to question her himself. Though their association had been brief, he’d foolishly believed they’d connected on some visceral level. More proof that his mind was slowly unraveling, he supposed. Now, he wanted her to look him in the eye and explain.

Fuming, Tatiana put on her riding boots, trying to keep from scowling as she didn’t want to cause wrinkles. First her sister—whom she’d planned to pair with Prince Eric—had managed to disappear unnoticed, but now Prince Chad had begged off, claiming he had a headache. As if. And when she’d questioned him, he’d had the audacity to say he felt it better if she and her fiancé spend time alone. He’d grinned mockingly as he’d spoken, taunting her.

This not only infuriated her, but aroused her, as well. Tatiana had never met a man who wouldn’t let her have her way.

A challenge was exactly what she needed. But first … She stood, adjusting her ponytail. She had to deal with the buffoon she was supposed to marry.

Sparkles of Fairy dust. This was going to be a long afternoon.

Prince Eric waited, standing beside his mount. She noted he’d chosen the largest, flashiest horse in the royal stable, a cantankerous gelding appropriately nicknamed Trouble. She wondered if the stable hands had bothered to tell their visitor that he was indeed asking for … well, trouble. The only one Trouble would allow to remain on his back was King Puck. And that was only when the giant beast felt like it.

At the moment, he stood docilely, mouthing his bit while Prince Eric eyed her and preened. Since she knew he was waiting for her to compliment him and say how handsome he looked next to the magnificent steed, she kept her mouth shut and pretended not to notice. After all, he hadn’t bothered to comment on her appearance—and she knew she looked absolutely, freakin’ gorgeous—so why should she bother with his?

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