by Kat Zaccard
“How will you find out anything new? It’s been sixteen years,” I demanded.
“The midwife,” Pierre replied. “I will track her down. She likely has let her guard down after all this time. I may not be able to prove who your father’s killers were, but I can still follow the course he set and seek justice for your mother. In all honesty, they are likely one in the same.”
I sat for a minute, digesting this new information. Then Pierre and I discussed our alliance. He cautioned me not to seek him out, warning that it would be too suspicious. He promised to continue his search and seek me out when he had new information. He reminded me that all I could do was stay alive.
I was chilled to the bone by more than just the cold when we parted ways. I made it back out of the maze and through the expansive gardens behind the Winter Palace. I headed to my rooms to get ready to leave. I was so over palace life. I couldn’t wait to get back to Mt. Henley. Now, there was a thought I’d never expected!
Chapter 17
The airplane ride home was a sullen one. Nadia and I kept to separate areas, and I kept my earbuds in to avoid Ms. Grissle’s attempts to talk. I tried to text Shea, but it didn’t go through. Closing my eyes, I let the music drown out my spinning thoughts and breaking heart.
It was early evening when the plane landed. I stopped Ms. Grissle just as we were gathering our carry-on items. “Den Mother Grissle?”
“Yes, Miss Luna?”
“Is there a spring break? And if so, could I visit my parents?” I asked, fiddling with my sleeve to avoid looking at Nadia who had glanced up.
Ms. Grissle looked surprised as well, then looked back at her bag as she stuffed her paperback and sweater into it. “We do have a short break before term ends, Miss Luna, though I’m not sure what arrangements will be possible.” She paused, and I wondered if asking had been futile. Then she looked at me and said, “I will have to look into it for you.”
“Thank you.” I smiled back in relief.
Nadia was glaring at me when I turned around to gather my things. “What?” I said.
“Alice, you are the Princess! You need to stop asking for things and start demanding them.” She looked thoroughly annoyed as she folded her newspaper and rose to disembark.
We had missed dinner by the time we got home, but the kitchen promised to have trays sent to our rooms. I was relieved to skip the dinner crowd and happy to see my own room. It was smaller than my quarters at the palace, but it felt as close to home as I had right now. My old home, my parents’ house, seemed a million light-years away, another galaxy compared to my new life here at Mt. Henley. Being a wolf was awesome, but being a pack leader was daunting. Part of me wanted to just go back to being me and leave the regent and the council to their own inner machinations. But when I thought about Shea and Haley, and even Nadia, I knew I couldn’t walk away from this. What if Pierre’s story was true? Nadia already thought my life was at risk. It most certainly was if my birth parents had been murdered. I couldn’t leave the Great Pack in the hands of a corrupt monarchy. Could my sort-of-aunt really be behind all this? She did have the most to gain overtly, but maybe other parties would benefit from the fall of the Luna line?
I lugged my luggage to the elevator and to my welcome suite on the fifth floor. A moment after setting my bag and coat down, a soft knock announced the arrival of my dinner. A cloth-covered cart with lidded trays was wheeled into my room. I smiled at the smell of dinner. Lifting the covers revealed lamb roast, golden potatoes, and asparagus. The other tray held a rhubarb cherry tart with coconut whipped cream. My mouth watered. I was happy for this last bit of royal indulgence. I needed a night alone in my own room to sort out my thoughts.
Stomach grumbling, I took everything to the couch, popped in a DVD, and quickly devoured my dinner and three episodes of my favorite TV show. It was good to be home. My phone was blinking with messages, now that I was back in spotty-at-best cell range. What was with these rich wolves and their crappy cell service? I decided I couldn’t deal with the world just yet, turned off my phone, and turned in early.
The next morning, I awoke to a loud pounding on my door. It must have been going on for a little while. I had a vague memory of dreaming the walls were falling over, but they were made of standing logs, so they fell log by log, mostly onto my bed. The pounding was followed by a faint, “Alice? You in there? Get up!”
Leaving my bedroom, I walked to the door. “Okay, okay! All right, already.”
I opened the door to Shea, mouth open, mid “Alice.”
“Alice! Finally!” She gave me a quick hug and came into the room.
I was so happy to see Shea. I hadn’t realized how alone and out of place I’d still felt from being at the palace until that moment when we embraced. I was lucky to have a true friend through all of this. We sat on the couch, and I filled her in on all of the drama of the ball. Shea gasped and growled at all the appropriate places, stopping me from time to time to go off on what a sneak Nadia could be or what a jerk Logan was. Then I ventured the one question I was dying to ask her:
“So, have you heard about the upyr?”
Shea laughed at me. “Upyr? Really? They’re just a bedtime story used to scare young pups into behaving!”
“Not according to the high council,” I said seriously. Shea stopped giggling. I made her pinkie-swear to secrecy on all sorts of things, and after she’d plucked an eyelash, crossed her heart, and spit on the floor (I don’t know where that one came from), I filled her in on the council proceedings. After I relayed the existence of upyr, I went on to tell her about Aleksandr and his desire to bring students here, along with putting restrictions on travel to Europe and Russia.
Shea’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding me, right? The upyr, which I’d been told by born and raised werewolves were totally fictitious, are actually a vampire-like but most likely living race of creatures who look human but feed on human blood? Oh, and they have superhuman strength and speed? Is that about right?”
“Trust me, I’m trying to get used to the idea, too. Do you know what the weird thing is? Even though he’s not on the council, Logan knew all about it.”
“Well, that’s not that big of a surprise,” Shea conjectured, “As the oldest grandchild, he’s likely being groomed to take over his grandfather’s seat.”
“That’s what he said. But what about his mother or father?”
“Seats on the council rarely pass to children since it’s a lifelong post. Often, council members will groom the eldest, or in some cases, the most promising grandchild, to take over the political seat of the family.”
Huh. So if my mother had lived, I’d likely never have to sit on the throne? I pondered that thought for a moment, but it was a path far too twisted with sad what-ifs, so I turned my attention back to Shea.
“Wow. I just can’t believe upyr are real.”
“Why not?” I asked. “We are.”
“Yeah, but we have a history, a culture, and a biology that we’ve almost figured out. Upyr are just...”
“Blood-sucking vampires bent on total destruction? Maybe this is Hollywood talking, but I can totally see it.”
“Sookie!” Shea growled and curled her index fingers into fangs.
I laughed at her, then did one better. I extended my wolf fangs and replied, “Sookie!” then howled with laughter.
Shea look surprised. “Wow! You only extended your canines!”
“So?”
“So? So, I’ve never seen or even heard of a partial shift. Wait, that’s not true. Never mind.”
“Never mind what, Shea?”
“Well, it doesn’t happen often because our wolf is an inherent part of our nature. That’s why some time during adolescence we develop the ability to shift at the full moon. It can be hard and scary, but it’s painless and natural. I’ve heard that, in rare cases—and it’s usually a Winterstone who hasn’t grown up in the Pack—the Were resists the change. Fear or disbelief takes hold and they fight the shift with
all their might. Sometimes a half-shift occurs, but it usually kills the werewolf. Or if they turn wolf, they sometimes never turn back. That’s why what you did for Pamela was such a big deal. If she hadn’t shifted back, she could have gone feral or even died.”
My shocked expression was enough of a reply. Another thought occurred to me. “Has any werewolf not been able to shift at all?” I asked.
Shea’s blue eyes clouded over. “Yes,” she said sadly. “I’ve heard that, in really rare cases, a pup can’t shift at all. It’s almost worse than being feral. They’re called ‘runts.’ And as much as they want to be a part of their werewolf culture, without shifting on the full moon, they’re left out.”
“That’s sad,” I said. Shea nodded in agreement.
I had been debating about telling Shea about Pierre, but at last I realized I couldn’t keep anything from her. She was my person, and maybe the only one I truly trusted. After a moment’s hesitation, I filled her in on the odd meeting in the maze. By the time I finished, Shea’s curly strawberry-blonde hair was standing on end from her running her fingers through it anxiously.
“You’re telling me the last King Regent was murdered?” Shea whisper-screeched the question.
“That’s what he said, and he was totally shell-shocked. I believe him,” I said matter-of-factly. I was still having a hard time juxtaposing the idea of my birth father with King Regent Harold.
“You’re being awfully calm about this,” Shea accused.
“I think I’m still in shock,” I admitted. “It’s a lot to process. But if you’d seen his face, you’d believe him, too. He looked so sad and ashamed. It sounded like there wasn’t anything he could do.”
Shea’s brow wrinkled in annoyance. “You’re so trusting and forgiving Alice! He could have told someone what he saw! He could have pointed out the murders and said, ‘Seize them!’”
“Yeah, the thought occurred to me, too. But he didn’t know who to trust.”
“You’re defending him?” Shea asked in disbelief.
“He risked a lot to tell me,” I reasoned.
“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Shea was not impressed by Pierre’s heroism, but she promised to keep it a secret. “Are you kidding me? I don’t want to be next!” She had the good grace to look ashamed and apologized for being callous. “I know this must be weird for you; it’s your parents, after all. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine finding out my birth parents were murdered.”
Shea never mentioned her birth parents. As far as I knew, she knew nothing about them. I could tell she was really making an effort to say the right thing, even if she didn’t know exactly what the right thing was. I gave her a hug, and she hugged me back fiercely. That was enough.
We went to breakfast after that, and I was happy to see Hayley, Sara, and Lola waiting for us at our usual table.
Lola gave me a sweet smile and small wave. “Hola!” she called happily. Her dark red hair was woven into a thick braid down her back. She was sitting at a table with Hayley and Sara. Hayley stood and dramatically bowed with a ridiculous inflection on, “Your Majesty,” to which we all laughed, then added our greetings.
We were happily catching up, when a dark shadow fell over our table. I looked over my shoulder to see Jillian with her usual crew lurking not too far behind.
“I hear someone is colorblind, apparently?” came her snarky voice, and the group behind her dutifully giggled.
“Actually,” chimed in Shea, “maybe you didn’t hear, but Princess Alice is a trendsetter. Red is the in color this season.”
Jillian gave an unattractive snort. “I don’t expect a Winterstone to know the rules of the palace, but it’s a black-and-white ball, Shea. Pretty self-explanatory.”
“I would think you of all people would know that blood is thicker than water, Jillian,” Shea piped up.
Jillian’s cheeks flushed, and she narrowed her eyes at Shea. “Ironic, coming from you,” she said, then she turned and left, her entourage nipping at her heels.
“Thanks for the backup, ladies. I can’t tell you how embarrassed I felt when I walked into the room and realized everyone was wearing silver, white, or black!”
Lola pulled out a newspaper. “Are you kidding? Look at page six—you look stunning!” She spread out the society pages on the table, and we all leaned forward. It was a photo of me greeting a dignitary from India. Her white sari sparkled with gold thread that wove grape vines into the fabric. My red dress stood out dramatically among the sea of black and white figures.
“Edmund will be pleased,” I murmured, smiling, thinking of my hairstylist from the palace.
“Holy cow! Look at the queen!” cried Hayley, stabbing her finger at a figure in the background.
We leaned closer and peered at the slightly out-of-focus figure. It was the queen in her enormous white dress, looking over her shoulder at me and Princess Rajkala, her mouth twisted into a smile that had clearly soured on her face.
Sara laughed. “Look at the caption: ‘Princess Alice captivates the crowd and greets visiting dignitary Princess Rajkala, while the Queen Regent looks on.’ Wow, when was the last time she was called Queen Regent in the paper?”
“‘Looks on’ is a delicate way to say ‘grinds teeth in annoyance’!” laughed Lola.
We were giggling as Hayley made impressions of a constipated queen when I noticed Nadia approaching our table.
She glanced down at the paper, then looked at me. “See?” she said, as if proving a point. “You made an impression. Now the whole community sees you not as a lost pup, but as a pack leader and almost grown.”
“Your methods were pretty sneaky, Nadia,” I replied.
“I apologized for the subterfuge, Alice. But now that I know you better, I hope we can work together.” She smiled diplomatically at my friends, who looked back at her with guarded expressions. Shea looked downright hostile.
“Trust is a big deal to me, Nadia. It’s going to take some time to earn it.”
She smiled again, genuine, but guarded as always. “Of course. If I may have a word, Your Highness.” She bowed her head ever so slightly. I got up and walked to a vacant side of the room with her.
“About your request on the plane,” she began.
“What request?”
“To visit your family during spring break,”
“Oh, right.”
“As your advisor—”
I raised an eyebrow.
“As one of your advisors,” she amended. “It is my duty to inform you that visiting your family while your position is not yet secured is a PR nightmare and a high security risk, not only for you, but also for your family. However, in the interest of gaining your trust and perhaps even your friendship, I remind you that you are being far too polite. You are a princess. The Princess, in fact. You say, they do.”
Nadia walked away, and I headed back to my friends, this new burden weighing on my mind. I had political power. Should I use it? And what about a security risk to my family? They weren’t wolves and knew nothing of the werewolf world. How would I protect them?
After breakfast, we all decided to take a hike through the woods. Classes didn’t resume until the following week, and we were all excited to have some free time. I’d had my fill of political intrigue for a while and was happy simply to be on familiar turf with familiar faces.
As we made our way past the bare orchards into the snow-covered woods surrounding the foothills, Hayley complained that we were too far away from the full moon to shift. Shea and I giggled at that, but refused to share our inside joke. I knew I had to be careful about revealing my unnatural control of my wolf, but I felt so close to these girls, I wished I could just tell them.
Hayley had gone home over the holidays and kept us entertained with stories about her large and accomplished family. I was surprised to learn she’d grown up near Seattle, and happy to hear about her younger siblings’ antics at Christmas dinner. Her heart ached a little with longing, but her hair had recovered from the missi
le of mashed potatoes.
I’d never missed a holiday with my parents before, and it struck me suddenly how consumed I’d been with my new life, that I’d missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day without a blink. Not to mention, I was just now learning about my new friends’ families. Sure, I had a lot going on; my life had had this huge change, and I felt like I was coping reasonably well. But now I needed to balance my inner turmoil with an actual, outer life, and that had to start with being more observant. I promised to call my parents later, but for now, I resolutely turned my attention back to Hayley’s story.
I couldn’t imagine having so many siblings to share everything with and to fight for attention. It sounded so chaotic, but somehow filled with warmth and love. Looking around at Shea, Sara, Lola, and Hayley, all laughing and chatting, I thought I was beginning to understand.
Lola also had a large family in Texas. Her family was Mexican-American, and Christmas was always a big deal. The Rodrigues Clan was big, and they rented a hall to have a giant fiesta for everyone to enjoy. The party sounded loud and colorful, and simply wonderful. Her holiday party sounded so fun and loving; not at all like the stuffy seriousness of the Winter Ball.
Sara was third of five daughters, lost somewhere in the middle, it seemed. I smiled at the soft look on Sara’s usually stern face when she mentioned her six-year-old sister, Nell. Clearly, they had a special bond. She’d gone home, as well, and actually went caroling in their small town outside Vancouver. I joked that if I’d been along, no one would give us figgy pudding, and sang a few bars off-key. Hayley howled with laughter, saying how happy she was that at least there was something I couldn’t do well, to which Shea teased, “Are you kidding? Have you heard her French?” We all had a good laugh at that, since they unfortunately had heard me muddle through class.
Sara on the other hand had a beautiful voice, and her family spoke French at home. She sang us a sonnet in French that literally stunned us into silence, and by the end, tears were brimming in more than just my eyes. After a moment, we burst into spontaneous applause, howling and whistling as we clapped Sara on the back and marveled at her voice. Lola looked proud of her girlfriend. Sara looked embarrassed; she was usually very reserved. It was nice to see her let her guard down around us.