by Alice Wilde
Her Betrothal
The Royal Shifters Book 1
Alice Wilde
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thank You!
Her Highlander
The Lioness of Egypt
About the Author
About the Publisher
Red Empress Publishing
www.RedEmpressPublishing.com
Copyright © Alice Wilde
www.AliceWilde.com
Cover by Cherith Vaughan
www.shreddedpotato.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recoding, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author.
Prologue
"You'll never catch me," Annalise called as she pushed through the undergrowth.
"Slow down," one of the other children yelled, but Annalise only ran faster. She knew the forest far better than any of the others. It was her only escape from the palace and her life as a royal.
Gradually, the sounds of the children behind her grew quieter and then altogether silent, and she smiled to herself. They'd never catch her. Her father would be angry later when he found out she had managed to lose her guards and governess. She hoped they wouldn't be punished for it, but she had to be free, even for just a few moments.
The trees opened up on a small clearing, the sunlight twinkling through the treetops. This was her favorite place. Annalise only wished she had remembered to bring a book. She could waste hours here among the wildflowers, lying on the soft grass as light breezes blew strands of her hair gently across her face. There was a brook not too far off that hummed merrily and often lulled her to sleep, but today was different.
The birds that often chittered away were silent, the air was stagnant and the usual serenity of the forest was overshadowed by a feeling Annalise could only describe later as "sick butterflies" in her stomach.
Stepping further into the clearing, Annalise caught a glimpse of something lying among the grass and wildflowers. She moved toward it cautiously.
"Hello?" she called, almost whispering for fear of scaring the poor creature, whatever it was.
As she drew closer to it, she realized it was a boy. He was beautiful, his skin, paler than any she had ever seen, was speckled with floating dots of sunlight. Even his lips were an odd shade of blue.
Annalise dropped down to her knees to take a closer look at him. His hair floated in a halo around him, like a soft white cloud. She'd never seen anyone with hair as white as this…not even her grandfather, although he barely had any hair left and was at least a hundred years old. The boy was naked except for a leather collar encrusted with strange, sparkling jewels. Dry blood stained his neck. Annalise reached out to touch him, but just as her fingers brushed against his cheek, her hand shot back. He was cold, icy cold, and in the middle of summer nonetheless!
"Annalise!" an angry voice said from behind her. Turning, she saw her governess, Lady Blackwood, step through the trees, her guards stepping into place behind her. The anger on Lady Blackwood’s face quickly turned to shock as her eyes shifted from Annalise to the boy lying on the grass. "Step away from him this instant!"
Annalise stood as her governess and the guards ran over. One of the guards knelt to examine the boy as Annalise’s governess grabbed her hand and began to lead her back toward the palace.
"What's wrong with him?" one of the guards asked.
As Lady Blackwood quickly pulled Annalise out of the clearing, she just managed to hear the other guard’s answer.
"He's dead."
One
Annalise
The forest is as green and heavenly as ever, calling to me much the same as it has every day for the past ten years. Ever since that fateful day in the clearing, Papa has forbidden me from leaving the castle walls and moved me to the most heavily and easily guarded wing of the castle. I never did learn what happened to the boy. I'm still allowed out into the gardens, but the almost sterile upkeep compared to the wildness of the woods is nearly unbearable. Fortunately, I've never been one for rules, and it only took a few weeks for me to find a way to escape the castle walls…at least on occasion. Once every fortnight, my governess would spend the afternoon chatting with a particular vendor in the kitchens. This particular merchant had a penchant for blackberry wine and it was the only time I’ve ever seen Lady Blackwood drink and the only time I can wander the gardens without her supervision.
"My lady?" A voice startles me from my thoughts. I feel my face start to turn red, as though I've been caught telling the whole world my secret. I turn around to find my chambermaid, nervously holding out one of my heavy formal dresses in her arms.
"Yes? And you know I prefer you call me by my name…at least when Lady Blackwood isn’t around," I say when our silence goes on a bit too long for comfort. After all these years together, her nervousness puts me on edge.
"Oh," she finally gasps. "The king has asked that you meet him at once. In his chambers."
"What?" I snatch the dress from her. At least I know she won't snitch on me to Lady Blackwood for the unladylike conduct.
Papa hasn't asked for me in months and even then, it had only been to attend a stuffy banquet at which I barely caught a glimpse of him. The last time he actually spoke to me was my birthday, nearly a year ago.
The dress is far too heavy and complicated. Finally realizing I can't get the dress on by myself, I turn back to Rosa—yes, I do know the names of my ladies, whether or not I am allowed to use them. She smiles and is quick to help me into it once I can stand still long enough for her to pull it up and button me into it. I prefer my everyday dresses as they are far less cumbersome and I can usually manage to get into them myself.
"Perfect," Rosa says as she smooths out the satin skirts around me.
I flounce toward the door, unwittingly mussing up my skirts in the process before I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My blonde curls are a wild mess, floating around my pale face and cascading down my back, still as messy as my pillow had left them an hour earlier. While the halo of hair makes my brown eyes look even softer and more doe-like, I know Papa will find it unbecoming of a royal. Slowly, I turn and walk back to Rosa and sit down at my vanity.
She smiles at me. Of all the people in the castle, Rosa is the closest thing I have to a friend. We used to play in the forest and take lessons together, at least until her ennobled parents died a few years ago. Being an only child, and a female at that, her wealth was distributed back out amongst her closest male relatives…who, needless to say, were not all that close, and she was resigned to becoming a lady's maid, no longer considered among my equals.
Rosa makes quick work of my hair. I never know how she does it, but in a matter of minutes my hair has been brushed flat, oiled, and pinned in place. She almost manages to add a touch of rouge to my cheeks, but I escape just in the nick of time.
By the time I reach Papa's rooms, my hair is starting to spring out of the pins and my dress is more than a little crinkled. The guard's faces are emotionless, but I can see the laughter in their eyes. I'm sure I look frightful, at least in comparison to how a princess should look, but they really can't blame me. One of the guards bangs his spear three times against the stone floor. A moment later, the doors are opened by the palace physician who bows low to me, but I pay him no mind.
"Enter."
The voice that calls out it not my Papa's voice. This voice is strange to me. This voice bears none of the command or strength that I know. This voice…is weak.
I can't move, both my feet and my heart are betraying me. The creature lying on the bed is but a shadow of the man I call Papa.
The room is hot. Too hot. I can barely breathe, but I don't know if that's from the tears I'm choking back or the fireplace that is lit on this sweltering summer day. I tear my eyes away from the bed and try to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. I haven't been in Papa's room in over ten years, since before Mama died. It is nothing like I remembered. The once cozy room is now bare, aside from the various physicking materials strewn about. Leeches, bloodied rags, and various potions litter nearly every open surface. The odors are putrid.
"Come, my daughter."
I swallow hard, and, taking in a shuddering breath, move slowly toward the voice. There's a small, fur-covered stool beside the bed. I focus my attention on it as I make my way across the room and seat myself.
"Look at me."
I look up at the face I had only a few minutes ago been elated to see. What looks back at me is a ghost. The robust, tanned face of the man I had grown up calling Papa is now a hollowed out, pale skeleton...and his eyes. His eyes are strange, almost as though they were covered in a dark film. How had this happened? How did I not know?
"Papa, what—"
"Shush," Papa says in as commanding a tone as he can muster. "I have not asked you here to pester me with questions. You will speak when I allow it. First, I have some delicate matters to discuss with you."
I bite my tongue. I had forgotten how conversations went with my father…or most of the men in the castle for that matter. Ladies were to remain silent unless directed to do otherwise. At least when I was around the other women, or out in the forest, no one dictated whether or not I could speak…okay, that's not entirely true either. No one, except my governess, Lady Blackwood.
"As you have undoubtedly noticed, my health has taken a turn for the worse. There is no denying it, I am dying."
The abruptness of Papa's remark nearly sends me reeling.
"Papa, you can't—"
"Hush!" Papa's tone is angry. "Did I not just tell you to be silent? Shall I have to punish your governess?"
"No, Papa. I will be quiet."
"Good. Now listen," Papa continues. "I am dying, and unless this worthless physician can concoct some miracle potion, I will not be here much longer. As you know, you are my only heir and the kingdom must continue."
My heart is starting to pound within my chest.
"Your eighteenth birthday is in a few months, and it is high time you were married. I should have married you off several years ago, but out of respect for your mother—" Papa's eyes glisten as he pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Out of respect for your mother, I have allowed you your freedoms, but now we must think of the kingdom."
"Must I marry, Papa?" I blurt, knowing I should stay quiet.
"Yes. The kingdom must have a king. You know very well a woman's place is not upon the throne."
I do know this. How could I not know? My history lessons made it very clear that no woman was made to rule; we were there to produce heirs and please our husbands in whatever way they required or desired. Nearly all my lessons had centered around my mastery of arts and entertainment. What little I could get Lady Blackwood to teach me about history, sciences, mathematics, and languages I truly savored.
I especially love languages. Whenever I learned of a new emissary coming to visit, I would sneak a book out into the forest to study their language. I made a game of it, and would often listen quietly to our guests as they spoke to each other in their native languages, seeing how much I could understand and how it differed from the polite words exchanged with the rest of the court.
The tinkling of glass interrupts my thoughts and my eyes flicker toward the physician busily mixing ingredients at his alchemy setup.
"Yes, Papa, I know, but perhaps this is an outdated law," I say quietly so that only Father can hear.
"Outdated or not, it is the law," Papa says. "If you do not marry before I die, I shall have to choose another successor, and then who knows what will happen to you."
I hadn't thought of this. What would happen?
In some ways, being born a female had made my life easier. I didn’t have to worry about assassination, as odd as that might sound. No one is threatened by a woman who has no real claim to the throne. Besides, if an heir suddenly turned up dead, there was a council in place to choose the next heir. Yes, there’s always the possibility of corruption, but it also keeps your dear, power-hungry next of kin from being quite so overtly bloodthirsty. They had a better chance of getting to the throne waiting for me to die on my own or through lack of a proper marriage.
However, if father did die and I was unwed, I'd most likely be cast out of the castle. I'd be seen as an inconvenience or a threat to the new queen. Of course, there was always the chance I'd be taken as the new successor's mistress, not uncommon when a virgin royal was to be had, stuck in some corner of the castle under lock and key until the time my master would see fit to visit. I wouldn't be allowed to bear children, and if I did, they wouldn't survive. I'd be hated, not least of all by myself. But I didn't want to marry out of necessity either. I had always hoped I would marry for love, as I believe my mother had done.
Aside from the small noises of the physician, the room had remained silent as I thought.
"Papa," I say nervously, "if I am to marry, I want to marry for Iove."
"Nonsense. That's not how things work."
"You loved mother, and I believe you still do—"
"Enough. I will not speak of her." Papa coughs. "Your mother was…something else, but you will do as I say. Besides, I've already accepted an offer for your hand. You will grow to love him, or at the very least learn to tolerate him."
"What?" I shout, anger coursing through my veins as I jump up from my seat. "How could you, Papa?"
"Sit."
"I will not!" I say, surprising myself with my own indignance.
"Fine," Papa concedes, "but you will marry him. He arrives this week, I've informed your governess to begin preparations. You will be on your best behavior."
My mind swirls in confusion. He's already spoken to my governess? How long has everyone been keeping this from me? I can feel my veins throbbing with fiery anger.
"Who is he?" I finally ask, not wanting to hear the answer.
"Lord Damien Godfrey. I do not believe you have met, but he has visited on occasion over the past year. He's a very interesting and well-to-do man, and he made an offer I simply could not refuse. Why he would choose you, I do not know."
His words sting. I have loved Papa with the undying, unconditional love a daughter is expected to have for her father, but it isn’t until this moment that I realize just how little Papa thinks of me. I know I have a wild streak, but I've always done as I was told…at least within reason and to the best of my ability. But to him, as a
female, I was merely an inconvenience, a business transaction, and apparently a poor one at that.
The physician wedges himself between us and begins to administer a nasty smelling liquid. He’s exceptionally thin and dressed in a long black cloak, and I suddenly realize that he’s not Sir Emery. Though, he was getting on in years. I’m sad to think that I wasn’t told if he has passed.
“When did we get a new physician?”
"That will be all. I will send for you when it is time to meet your fiancé." Papa's voice is cold, and I wonder how I could have ever found any warmth in it before.
I don't know who Lord Godfrey is, but the name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I will not love him, and if I am forced to marry him, I'd never love another thing in my life.
I hate love.
I hate Lord Godfrey.
I hate…the king.
Two
Annalise
The past several days have been torture. My governess won't so much as let me brush my hair without her overseeing how it's done.
I haven't been able to escape to the forest since last week; not that I would have done so anyway. The weather has been dreadful. It's as if even nature knows something is amiss.
All my day dresses have been replaced by heavy, formal gowns. They look well fitted and perhaps even a little provocative, but they've been weighed down something awful. I'm sure they've been modified to force me to walk slower, stand taller and be altogether more “ladylike.”