by Kat Zaccard
I stood and met Jillian’s fierce gaze. “Hey, Jillian, good summer?” I tried for casual.
She drew back her hand to slap me. Luckily, Hayley stood and grabbed her arm, but not before I could stop myself from flinching. Jillian laughed derisively. To my surprise, Fanya also got to her feet and got in Jillian’s face.
“Are you threatening the Princess?” she inquired in an amused tone that insinuated Jillian’s folly.
“Get out of my way, you little refugee,” snarled Jillian at Fanya, looking down on her diminutive frame. “This is between me and Alice. Don’t you know who my mother is?” she demanded.
Fanya drew herself up to her full height. At five feet five inches, no, I didn’t know the metric conversion, she was at least two or three inches shorter than either Jillian or me, but she carried an air of authority. Fanya was born into a royal clan, and she knew how to command her presence. She brushed her dark red hair off her shoulder and glared at Jillian like an empress. “Her Royal Highness still outranks you, Miss Reynolds,” Fanya purred malevolently, her quiet tone far more threatening than Jillian’s sharp assault.
Her words were more destructive than a slap could’ve been. Jillian glared past Fanya at me. “Funny how you always have someone ready to stand in your place. Someday it will just be you and me.”
“Name the day,” I replied angrily, forgetting that teen wolf hormones were a little volatile.
Lola grabbed at my arm, whispering, “Alice, no!”
Jillian pretended not to hear my answering challenge. “Just stay away from Logan!” She spun on her heel and stormed away, Crystal and Laureine trailing after her in a cloud of perfume and hairspray.
“Way to go, Fanya!” Hayley exclaimed approvingly. “Glad you’re in our patrol!”
Everyone congratulated Fanya, except Lola, who looked annoyed. I smiled at her. “Thanks for holding me back.” She smiled back, grateful. Most teenage werewolves were hot-heads, prone to trouble. It was good to have a pacifist in the group. Lola would make an effective diplomat, assuming she could work up the courage to leave the country.
The excitement passed, and we adjourned from the dining hall, making our way outside to walk to the mansion we called school. Mount Henley seemed almost as big as the Winter Palace, though I knew it wasn’t. I’d never explored the west wing, finding the east wing more than large enough to get lost in. I split off from the group, heading to the art rooms. I was glad to have Adam in my art class again. This year, we were taking pottery.
“Hey, Alice!” He grinned, his smile lighting up his face. I was glad he’d saved me a wheel next to his. We chatted amiably about our summers before Mr. Frasier, the art teacher, came in and class started. Once the lesson was finished and we were left to our own devices—kneading copious amounts of clay—we fell back into an easy conversation. It was our first time hanging out without Shea around in a while, and I remembered how much I liked Adam. Maybe I was more jealous of his time spent with Shea than concerned they were moving too fast? If I had a boyfriend, I’d want him to care about me the way Adam cared for Shea. After first period, I felt much better about our friendship and their relationship.
Just as I was leaving art, a freshman brought a note for Mr. Frasier, who pulled me aside. “Yes, Mr. Frasier?” He was a large man with shocking orange-red hair and a barrel chest that competed with his belly.
“Looks like you’re to report to the headmaster, Ms. Luna.”
“What’d I do?”
“It doesn’t say. Collect your things,” Mr. Frasier replied.
“What did you do?” teased Adam. I swatted at him playfully and promised to meet up later for lunch.
I wound my way through the massive marble corridors, eventually making my way to the headmaster’s office. His secretary, Ms. Cope, greeted me pleasantly. She had round features and an easy smile. She was short and plump and reminded me of the fairy godmothers in Sleeping Beauty, except she was only in her mid-thirties and still had lovely brown curls and youthful features.
“Good morning, Miss Luna. You can go right in.” I thanked Ms. Cope and pushed the massive oak door open.
Headmaster Giovanni was a slim man with a grey beard and piercing grey eyes. I had mixed feeling about him. Maybe not that mixed. He had believed the Queen last year that I was making up the upyr attack. He initiated the curfew and kept me from rejoining patrols. But after Kulani’s death, everyone knew the upyr were real. I swallowed a hard lump. The headmaster had avoided me ever since. Maybe that was putting too much importance on me? I’m sure he had better things to do.
“Ah yes, You Royal Highness. Welcome back!”
Okay, so he was going for friendly-forget-I-ever-called-you-a-liar.
“I wanted to chat with you about your schedule. I’m afraid we have to make an adjustment for your civics class. Perhaps taking on junior patrols is too much, eh?” He had an Italian accent but sometimes a little Canadian peeked through, which had an odd effect. Despite the polite inquiry, I understood his meaning perfectly. They wanted to keep me out of the way and off patrols.
“No.” I said it firmly, without waver, holding his gaze steady. “I cannot sacrifice learning how to lead my people.” I practiced my best Fanya, drawing myself up to my full height and imagining the statue of my birth mother I had seen at the Winter Palace, young but imperious.
“Your Highness, we have to find time for your civics lessons. That will prepare you to lead the Great Pack.”
“I will not sacrifice training,” I restated firmly.
“Well, perhaps we can drop another elective? What about art?”
“Headmaster, who will be giving me these civics lessons?”
“I will.”
“Then perhaps we can find a time outside of school so I don’t have to miss any other classes.”
Giovanni sighed, and I knew I had won. “Perhaps arrangements can be made.” After a little more back and forth, I agreed to meet Headmaster Giovanni three times a week for a half an hour before school started. I’d no doubt that the Queen Regent would be well apprised of my tutoring. I wondered if Giovanni was loyal to the Great Pack or the Queen herself. I decided that private lessons with him would also give me some insight into his character. I had to take the silver lining since I wasn’t looking forward to spending more time with the man. I left in a huff, ignoring Ms. Cope’s polite salutation as I stomped out of the office to go back to class. Perhaps I’d feel bad for being rude later.
The rest of the morning was pretty boring first-day stuff. I was relieved that Logan wasn’t in any of my morning classes and pleased that Shea and Hayley were both in history with me despite Jillian’s presence as well. Anatoly and Casimir were also there, so we planned a study group for when class inevitably got tough. Forty minutes later, we were groaning about the amount of homework we had already.
“Don’t they know we have new training and junior patrols?” complained Sara at lunch as we all discussed our increasing load of coursework.
“I have AP history this afternoon. I can’t wait.” Lola loved history, and we all rolled our eyes at her.
“I thought afternoons were reserved for training?” I asked before Sara could swing a kick at me.
“Yeah, but I’m not doing the junior patrols, so I added a class to my afternoon schedule,” explained Lola shyly.
“Oh, that’s cool,” I replied with a grin. “Want to join our study group later?” Lola smiled gratefully at me, her red curls bobbing. I figured this new push towards athleticism was tough on her. She was a lover not a fighter.
After lunch, we went to the training arena to meet with Coach Murry. She was small and sinewy, almost catlike, though I imagine she’d be insulted by the comparison. In human form, she had a lean build and a short grey pixie cut cropped close. She was tough as nails, though, and never went easy on us in training. We were still a week away from the full moon, so she had us pair off to practice sparring.
After an hour of martial arts training, we were greete
d by a guest teacher. A large, barrel-chested man with red hair and a boisterous laugh entered the arena. I recognized Olaf from running patrols last year with the Slivers. He was old-school. He hadn’t wanted a princess on his patrol, but he treated me cordially and I’d earned his respect. He expected a clear chain of command; respect his authority and you’d be all right. Flaunt your status in his face, and he’d be sure to take you down a peg or two. I couldn’t wait for him to get to know Jillian.
Olaf addressed the group, giving me a fatherly wink when his gaze floated over mine. He explained the basics of running patrols, assigned leaders, and split us up into packs of six. Hayley and I were both named co-leaders of our patrol. Olaf had each pack of six split to run in groups of three during patrol. He assured us that we would have the three days of the full moon to train as wolves, but for now, we were to practice in human form. Jillian complained that it was a waste of time. Olaf quickly put her in her place. I was starting to like junior patrols more and more.
After we ran a few drills, Olaf had us working in our packs. I was relieved, since it was easier to avoid Jillian and her gang. We had to learn to read each other and work as a unit. I was explaining some of the tail signals the regular patrols used to communicate, when Olaf wandered past our group.
“Excellent, Your Royal Highness. We’ll be going over that in more detail tomorrow and practicing when the moon permits.”
“When will we be able to train outside the three days of the full moon?” inquired Sara. She had seemed a little envious when Shea had bragged about her six days under the moon.
“Well, I know Alice has how many now? Seven days?” he inquired. I nodded. I never corrected people when they gave me a number of days. I figured “yes” was the truth, and if anyone ever guessed thirty-one days, I would also simply nod.
“And how about the rest of you?” Shea was proud of her six days, as she should be. Hayley and Sara both had five. Fanya and Damka grumbled that they were only able to shift the three days of the moon.
“Well, that’s a great start for this age group,” Olaf consoled. “Perhaps your group can start wolf training on day five and we’ll see how the rest of your group catches up.” He smiled pleasantly then went off to check on the next group.
“Five days?” wailed Damka. “I’ll look like a fool for two of those days.”
“Don’t worry,” said Shea. “Alice is a great coach, I only had three days last year and we worked all summer to get me up to six.”
“That’s gotta be some kind of record,” grumbled Sara, who didn’t like anyone to be better at things than her.
“What about Alice?” questioned Hayley. “She’s like a prodigy.”
They all knew I could shift more than the average teenage werewolf, but only Shea knew the full extent. Hayley waggled her eyebrows at me. She knew about my alpha telepathy as well. We had spent a lot of time running together last year when our other friends had coupled up. We spent so much time training together, it was impossible to hide that I could occasionally pick up her thoughts and project my own to her. She kept my secret, though I could see she was curious if I’d tell the others soon. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. I was different enough. I just wanted to have my groups of friends like any regular teen. I mentally scoffed at that, being a regular teen; even a regular teenage werewolf was so far from my reality.
“I figure it just means she’s an alpha and meant to be Queen,” responded Shea.
“Um, I’m right here,” I complained.
“We apologize.” Shea bowed sarcastically with a flourish of hand gestures.
“Shouldn’t I be the only one to speak in the royal we?”
“Ooh, way to throw your crown around!” teased Hayley. We all laughed at that.
Two days later, we were excited to shift for that afternoon’s training. I was so excited that I couldn’t sit still through any of my morning classes. Adam teased me that my pottery attempt looked like I was trying to throw a pot during an earthquake. Adam was a natural artist, so his work looked as good as the teacher’s already. It was annoying and I flicked some muddy water at him.
“Hey!” he complained as he wiped his face. Luckily, he never held a grudge and simply retaliated with a blob of clay in my hair. The teacher had gasped and almost sent him to the headmaster’s office. I talked him out of it, though, claiming it was an accident. Adam and I snickered through the rest of class. I was glad he didn’t treat me differently because I was a royal. I knew there was a hierarchy here, but it made me uncomfortable. Royalty seemed arbitrary. Everyone was equal in my eyes.
That afternoon, I was rearing to shift. I didn’t even wait for Coach Murray’s whistle before I tore off to the changing rooms. I ditched my clothes and shifted before most of the class made it to the locker room.
I was running circles around Shea by the time Hayley, Sara, Damka, and Fanya strolled in, all clad in fluffy terry bathrobes. Hayley tossed a couple robes at Shea and me and asked that maybe we shift back into humans to give us all the great tips we’d promised them. I shifted back and drew on my robe. Then we all sat in a circle and I tried to describe how I connected with my wolf.
“If you think about it,” I said, “the moon is always there. We know that, even when we can’t see it. When it’s daylight, we can’t see the moon, but we know it’s there. We feel her pull. And we can still shift. That’s the feeling I connect to the rest of the month. The moon is still there, and not even the mass of the Earth can block her energy from us.”
“The rest of the month? How many days do you have under the moon?” inquired Damka suspiciously.
“Well,” I evaded.
“Let’s give it a try!” Shea jumped in to my rescue.
Shea shifted into her wolf, trading her rose-gold curls for medium-brown fur that up-close looked striped in the right light. She bounded around, so happy day five felt like a breeze. I felt a wave of happy thoughts as I shifted into my own wolf skin, russet-brown fur with dark stockings.
I could feel thoughts and strong emotions radiate off the other werewolves like sweat. Sometimes it was a distinct word, sometimes a vague feeling. I was happy to feel their overall excitement but tried to shield their thoughts. I avoided using my alpha powers while training. It felt like cheating. On the other hand, I suspected it helped influence Shea when we were training all summer. After my chat with Diego, I’d wondered if I was doing a bit more than thinking good thoughts at Shea. Maybe my wolf was calling hers?
Shea tackled me, caching me unawares. We tumbled and I leveraged myself on top. She soon bucked and rolled me over, pinning me fast. She’d gotten stronger and grown another inch since the spring. I blinked and bowed my head in submission to her hold and she let me up, happy to have beaten me so easily. Fanya, still human, started scolding Shea.
“What are you doing attacking the Princess off guard? That’s not a noble attack.” I wasn’t sure if she meant honorable or was subtly calling Shea’s bloodline into question. I quickly shifted to end this.
“Hey, Fanya, it’s all right. Shea and I play like that all the time. In fact, we’ve been trying to sneak up on each other as part of our training. You’re never really expecting an attack, are you?”
“Unless you are on a battlefield,” Damka said, trying to support her country-wolf. I shuddered at the conjured image of an upyr-riddled battlefield.
“Well, upyr don’t tell you they’re coming,” remarked Hayley taking a few steps closer to Shea, who still in her wolf form. I liked the show of loyalty but wanted to get everybody back on the same side.
“That’s true,” I agreed with Hayley. “The upyr are unpredictable. So let’s agree that as a pack—by that I mean the six of us—can surprise each other for practice.”
“When exactly? I don’t need Shea jumping me at dinner.” Fanya waved a hand at Shea, who growled back in response. Fanya grinned wickedly, her sharp features drawn up in a teasing smile.
“Okay, how about during our free time when we’re out
side? Agreed?” I stuck my hand out and looked around at the girls and wolf. Shea came over and put a paw on my hand, but the others looked confused. I looked at Shea helplessly. She started laughing, which looks disturbing on a muscular werewolf that’s twice the size of the timber wolves I’d seen in zoos.
Lucky for me, Shea always had my back. She shifted back into human and started to explain, “Humans on a sports team will sometimes put all their hands together and shout something encouraging.”
“And then what?” asked Sara, always serious.
“Then they let go with a cheer,” Shea responded.
“Why?” asked Damka dubiously.
“To, you know, show team spirit?” Shea was less sure.
“To show comradery and get revved up for the competition,” I added helpfully.
“I like it.” Sara was nothing if not decisive. “Let’s do it.”
“What do we yell?” asked Hayley.
Shea giggled and I couldn’t help grinning too. We were both raised by humans and more familiar with human games and culture than werewolf ones. Our friends, on the other paw, were raised knowing they were werewolves. They knew other werewolves and witnessed the shift daily. There were rituals and celebrations that were completely foreign to Shea and me. It felt good to share something random from my human life. It was moments like these that made the distinction more pronounced.
“How about ‘Go Team?’” Shea said, chortling. I giggled harder, no help at all.
“How about ‘Full Moon?’” suggested Sara, and by her tone and nature, we knew she was dead serious. Shea and I were uncontrollably laughing at that point. Sara harrumphed and rolled her eyes at us, then crossed her arms and turned away.