Storm Chaser (Storms of Blackwood Book 3)

by Elle Middaugh

  His eyebrows rose, and his smile stretched further. "So brash, Princess Alexis. I see your lessons with Madam Annette have fallen upon deaf ears. Or, perhaps, her teachings simply aren't what they used to be. Perhaps I should have her terminated?"

  I had a bad feeling he was planning to do more than fire her. "That's unnecessary. Madam Annette is a great teacher; I'm just a shit student."

  Zacharias rolled his eyes. "Shit student. Shit princess. Shit mother. Gods only know how many of my sons you’ve been fucking and you still haven’t become pregnant.”

  All the air whooshed out of my lungs like he'd kicked me in the gut.

  His features darkened. "Need I remind you that your time is running out? If you do not produce a proper Storm heir soon, then it will be you who is terminated. Understand?"

  I nodded, because I still couldn't breathe. I was terrified of what he'd do to me if I failed to become pregnant, but I was even more terrified of the idea of succeeding. I might've been twenty-four, but I was not ready for a baby. And, as amazing as Cal and his brothers were, I was pretty fucking sure they weren't ready to be fathers, either.

  King Zacharias finished off his coffee and patted his lips with a napkin. "You may escort Prince Chrissen on his journey to Hydratica if you wish, but know this: we are in the middle of a war. If the lords are not on their respective thrones when the time comes for important decisions to be made, then I'll be forced to make those decisions myself."

  The implications were clear as fucking day. Let Chrissen go alone and wait for all of us to slowly die, or accompany Chrissen, but allow the Storm King to make all the important battle decisions.

  We each took turns sharing somber glances, trying to read each other's thoughts and emotions through the stoic set of our faces. The overwhelming emotion I was sensing was anger, but it was followed closely by uncertainty and fear, and then after that... determination.

  "So, like I said," Cal began, speaking on behalf of all of us, "when do we leave?"

  The Storm King grinned wickedly. "Tomorrow. Until then, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Your servants have your agendas."

  Then he shooed us away with a flick of his wrist.

  "Now, go."

  Chapter 4

  The servants were already waiting for us outside the dining room door.

  Talk about efficient. Rather than being impressed though, I felt disgusted. The Storm King ran a tight ship. I just couldn't figure out why so many people had hopped on board. I mean, the man was a fucking psycho.

  The same young servant girl who'd gotten me ready for breakfast approached me as I marched into the hall. She was tall and willowy with long, straight, dishwater-brown hair. Her face was pretty, but simple, with a straight nose and thin lips. She didn’t seem overly talkative or particularly extroverted.

  While Gemma had been the light in the center of a room, this new girl was just a flower on the wallpaper.

  I didn’t judge her for it. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being shy or plain. It was just that I was having a hard time not comparing her to my late best friend, and in a context like that, no one would ever match up. She didn’t stand a chance.

  I sighed. "What's your name?"

  "Rochelle, Your Highness." She curtsied quickly.

  “What does my schedule look like, Rochelle?” I cringed as the words came out clipped and a little resentful.

  I glanced right and watched as each of the princes consulted with their servants as well. Cal and Criss with their arms folded neatly behind their backs, Rob with his arms crossed in front of him, Dan with his hands on his hips, and Ben with a hand on his chin. I loved how each of their personalities shined through even in something as simple as standing.

  "Breakfast with the royal family," Rochelle said, reciting my schedule from memory. "Followed by etiquette lessons with Madam Annette. Morning tea with the harem ladies. History lessons with Professor Samson. Then lunch with the princes..."

  She continued rattling off my schedule, but I already knew it. It was the same order of events as the last time I was there.

  Suddenly Cal was behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nestling his face into my neck. "I'll see you at lunch, darling. Same place as before."

  Darling. It seemed the name I’d called him all those nights ago at Chrissen’s ball had become the one we would use for each other, at least in front of others.

  I grinned and kissed his cheek. "I'll be there."

  Which meant I'd be meeting them at the stables, and we'd be riding on horseback to our secret picnic grounds in the woods.

  A few moments later, I pushed open the door to Madam Annette's classroom where the same faux dining room was set up and waiting for me.

  She was breezing around and checking every minute detail: from the perfect vases of flowers, to the crisp tablecloths and napkins, to the precise layout of the flatware and silverware. The woman, herself, looked pristine and well put together as always with a lacy, intricately sewn dusty rose gown and her white hair piled high atop her head in a fancy updo.

  "Good morning, Princess Alexis," she said with a youthful curtsey despite her obvious age.

  I curtseyed back, surprised to find I somehow remembered the movements perfectly. "Good morning, Madam Annette. I trust you've been well?"

  She smiled proudly at my manners and conduct. "Excellent, Your Highness, thank you very much. Are you prepared for today's lessons?"

  I scoffed. "How could I possibly be prepared? I barely woke up an hour ago, and only ten minutes ago learned that I'd be continuing these lessons."

  "A princess is always prepared, Your Highness."

  Of course they are.

  I took a long, slow inhale and forced a smile. "Then, let's proceed."

  She bowed her head in my direction.

  "As you no doubt noticed back when you met the Timberlune royals, there are varying versions of the royal curtsy that you should know. Each kingdom has their own special variant, their own little quirk or twist they want you to add onto it."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Queen Bravia was deeply perturbed that I didn't curtsy to her properly. But I don't particularly give a fuck, considering they're now waging war against us."

  Madam Annette quirked an unenthused eyebrow. "Perhaps if you'd curtsied properly in the first place, we wouldn't be in this mess?"

  I fucking laughed out loud. "Yes, I'm sure this war is all on me and my shitty curtsying skills."

  She grinned. "You never know."

  "Ah, but I do," I teased. "It's a princess's job to know everything, after all."

  This time she chuckled. "I'm so pleased that my lessons have finally started sinking in."

  I glanced out the window. It wasn't safe to talk freely within the palace walls, but if we were outside in, say, the garden, I wondered if Madam Annette might... open up? She was a plethora of information, and I was certain she knew things that I didn't. The question was: would she tell me any of it? Was she, or was she not, loyal to the wicked king?

  "Would you mind taking this lesson outdoors?" I asked her sweetly. "The fresh air might do my stuffy attitude some good."

  She inclined her head and curtseyed perfectly. "As you wish, Your Highness."

  We strolled through the halls and out onto the lawn with poise, like two very proper ladies about to enjoy a spot of tea and a few crumpets in the garden. When we were far enough away from the palace walls, I glanced over at her.

  "I'm going to tell you some things you probably don't know, so bear with me."

  Start small, Lex. Test the waters before you go too deep.

  She put on her stoic face and waited patiently while I took a deep breath and rattled it all off at once.

  "He beats and tortures the harem ladies to keep his sons and me in line. His guards held the princes and queens at knifepoint while he forced Cal and I to 'consummate our union' in front of everyone. He beat us within an inch of our lives then forcefully kept us unconscious for weeks. Guards helpe
d him—guards who barely earn a living wage. Servants helped him—servants who are routinely beaten. So, my question is why? Why help him? Why let him do this? Why support such a wicked monster?"

  Way to go, you dumbass. You just dove headfirst into the deep end.

  I groaned internally at my own tactlessness.

  With wide eyes, Madam Annette dipped into a standard curtsy, then tipped her head back, exposing her neck. "This is the common curtsy of Werewood. They're werewolves, so exposing the neck shows subservience."

  So apparently, we wouldn't be talking about any of this. Great.

  "As a royal," she continued, "you would cover your throat with your hand as you dip, like so."

  She curtsied again, demonstrating the slight deviance from the first time. "This is how you'll address Prince Rafe."

  It made sense. So, I copied her movements with relative ease.

  To my surprise, she breezed over and corrected me. Adjusting my posture, tilting my chin, and arching my neck even further. As she leaned in, she whispered, "Perhaps he has so much support because no one has made a stand against him? If one of the princes were to stand up... or perhaps, all five of you…"

  My mouth dropped open.

  She backed away and immediately demonstrated another standard curtsy, but this time she brought her palms together above her heart. "This is the royal curtsy of Eristan."

  Simple enough. I copied her movements with fluid grace.

  But again, she corrected me. Lifting my elbows and pressing my palms tighter together, even pushing on my lower back to force my curtsey deeper. She leaned in and said, "I propose speaking with the queens, the servants, and the royal guards. Find out just how willing they are to serve their king, or just how willing they aren't."

  She retreated with an innocent nod, as if we hadn't just been having a treasonous, double-sided conversation.

  "Very good, Your Highness. Ambassador Rasheem is not royalty, however, so you will not be required to bow to him."

  "Okay," I agreed, still dumbfounded that she was actually opening up.

  "Next is Rubio. They refuse to acknowledge any monarch other than their own queen. So, Captain Akiko will not bow to you, and neither will you bow to her."

  My brows furrowed, and I crossed my arms. "Then why the hell is Rubio coming here at all? I can't imagine the Storm King wanting to do business with a kingdom who doesn't acknowledge his power and prestige."

  Madam Annette folded her hands in front of her—a subtle hint at the gesture I should have made instead of crossing my arms. "King Zacharias may do whatever he wishes. Rubio is a kingdom of tribal warriors, highly skilled in combat and extremely resilient. They would make excellent allies."

  I rolled my eyes and uncrossed my arms. "What about the last kingdom?"

  She bowed, acknowledging my request. "Valinor is a kingdom of big cat shifters—lions, tigers, leopards, etcetera. When they curtsy, they cross their arms in an X across their chest, then curve their fingers to look like claws. Like so."

  She showed me the move, and I tried to copy it. Even though I'd just watched her do it, I screwed up the hand gesture. It just felt more natural to keep my fingers straight instead of curled.

  Madam Annette grabbed my fingers and bent them. "Straight fingers will offend Princess Veda. You must get this right."

  "Oh, great, another princess?" I rolled my eyes.

  "Yes," she whispered. "Now, listen. Once you've spoken with everyone at the palace, I believe you'll find there are plenty of allies spread out amongst the kingdom. Find them and rally them."

  My brows furrowed as she pulled away and demonstrated the Valinorian curtsey again.

  My mind was reeling. We'd been looking for support outside of our kingdom, but it had never occurred to us to look for it inside.

  I copied her movements to a T, even forced my fingers to curl against their will. "Are you suggesting that making foreign allies is pointless? That I should be concentrating my efforts within Blackwood, instead?"

  She smiled and moved her pointer finger in a circle above her head. "One more time from the top! Werewood."

  I sighed and performed the Werewoodian curtsey, making sure to cover my neck.

  "I wouldn't say it's pointless in the slightest," she whispered to me. "Make personal allies. Make friends out of these people so that they'll want to support your claim to the throne." Then she carried on with her lesson. "Eristan."

  I dipped down into the Eristani curtsey, complete with prayer hands.

  "You just used a dirty F word," I said flatly.

  Her brows rose. "Friends, Your Highness?"

  I nodded. "You realize, when I was a peasant in Blackleaf—"

  "Which you're not anymore," she reminded me.

  "Yes, but when I was, I had approximately one friend."

  Oh, gods, I didn't realize how badly it would hurt to say that out loud. Tears flooded my eyes, but I blinked them away and kept them from spilling.

  "And now that she's gone, I have none. I'm not good at making friends."

  Madam Annette reached out and patted my hand. "It's not always easy for everyone," she assured me. "But it still happens for everyone regardless. You'll make new friends—perhaps even in people you least expect." Then she straightened back up. "Rubio."

  I dipped down but couldn't remember what the special hand gesture was.

  She tsked at me. "We do not bow to Rubians, Princess Alexis."

  I glared at her. "You tricked me."

  She grinned and rolled her beady little eyes. She was full of sass for an old lady who was supposed to be prim and proper. "Valinor."

  I bent my knees and crossed my arms, making sure to curl my fingers like claws.

  "Very good, Your Highness," she praised with a smile. "It looks like our time is up. But, remember this: you will meet hundreds of people in your lifetime, ones who come and ones who go. Continue to be yourself, and the right people will stay."

  I smiled and inclined my head, grateful for all her advice.

  "Now, off with you," she said, shooing me away. "You have harem ladies to befriend."

  Riiiight.

  Because making friends with my potential mothers-in-law was going to be a sweet and simple piece of cake.

  Chapter 5

  Déjà vu struck me like a pickax to the heart.

  The midmorning tea party looked exactly as it had the first time I'd joined them a few months ago. They all wore wide-brimmed hats to combat the sun and fancy gowns with long sleeves, which I now understood was to cover their plethora of scars. The only new face I saw was Charity, Chrissen's mother. But it wasn't like I hadn't seen her before, so I don't know if I'd say "new." Just, new to tea.

  I glanced around at their smiling faces, even my mother's, and wondered how the ever-loving fuck they managed to put on such a fantastic front.

  "Alexis!" Caroline crooned with her arms outstretched. "Katelynn, look! Our daughter has arrived!"

  Oh my Hades. Cal's mom just called me her daughter.

  I tried to blink back my wide-eyed shock, but she'd still seen it, which made her laugh.

  Mom stood and breezed over to me with a grace I never even knew she had in her. Apparently, she'd been forced to take etiquette lessons as well. Or perhaps, the other queens had just been generous in teaching her so that her beatings were less harsh? Gods, I hated that fucking bastard…

  I melted as Mom pulled me into a tight embrace, far tighter than her casual air suggested. I knew just how important this moment was to her. How important it was to me.

  "I love you, Mom," I whispered as tears once more filled my eyes.

  "I love you too, my precious girl," she said with a misty-eyed smile. "I've missed you so much. Worried about you constantly."

  I chuckled to keep from sobbing. "I've worried about you too. I'm so sorry, Mom. Sorry I didn't see you before I left last time."

  "It's okay, Lex. It was a difficult time for y—"

  "And I'm sorry I didn't write you. Actua
lly, I did write you, I just never got a chance to send my letter."

  "Lex. It's okay. I completely under—"

  "And I'm sorry I've been such a shitty daughter."

  "Alexis—"

  "And that I accidentally got you married to a shitty second husband."

  "Alexis, shut it!" she finally snapped before holding me at arm's length. A smile spread across her face once I finally fell silent. "There is nothing to forgive, sweetheart. None of this is your fault."

  "Are you sure?" I asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Because I definitely wasn't so sure.

  "Yes, sweetheart, I'm sure." She sighed and released me from her hold. "Now tell me, have the princes been treating you well?"

  I smiled at the thought of them and nodded. "The princes are amazing. All of them."

  I scanned the group of women, pausing momentarily on Ashlynn as we shared a meaningful look. So much had changed since my first meeting with them. The first time, I hated the princes and the queens were insisting that I give them a chance. This time, I was in love with all of them—excluding Chrissen—and hoping the queens approved of me as a match for their sons.

  "Please sit down," Caroline urged, waving us over to the small circular tables positioned in the middle of the blossoming garden. A sea of petals—pink, orange, and yellow—perfumed the air and accented the background, making it feel even fancier than it already was.

  "How is your husband?" Caroline asked eagerly. "How is my Calvin?"

  I smiled wide and felt my eyes crinkle with warmth. "He's doing wonderful, Caroline, I promise."

  Her blue eyes grew misty, and she nodded joyfully.

  "All of the princes are wonderful," I assured them. "We are... well rested from our trip to Eristan, and we'll be journeying to Wessea first thing in the morning."

  Delilah raised a brow. "You mean Western Blackwood?"

  Wessea was her kingdom, once upon a time. But since the Storm King took over, no one dared call it by its proper name. She was probably subtly warning me, telling me someone was listening nearby.