The Wolf Prince Page 9

  Numerous guards poured out of the side hallways, ready to join them, expressions grim, weapons drawn and ready. Rushing up the stairs two at a time, the small army barreled down the hallway toward the bedroom wing. Running, King Leo led the way. Ruben and Willow were close on his heels.

  At the long, empty expanse of hall, they all stopped.

  “There.” Ruben pointed toward his own room. It was the only one with the door ajar.

  “Step back,” Drake, Captain of the Royal Guard ordered, stepping in front of the king and neatly shouldering him aside. A small force of his elite guards surrounded him, bodyguard style.

  King Leo pushed past them, swearing loudly. “I don’t need protection. This is my wife. Your queen!”

  Ruben went with him. Barely inside the doorway, Queen Ionna lay in a crumpled heap. A few feet past her, also not moving, was one of the chambermaids, with blood seeping out from under her head, staining the carpet.

  With a loud cry, the king dropped to the floor beside his wife. “Ionna,” he cried, feeling at the base of her long throat for a pulse. At least there was no blood.

  Chest tight, heart aching, Ruben crouched down as his father frantically tried to revive his mother.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” King Leo cried. “She has no wounds that I can see.”

  Ruben leaned forward, wanting to help. As far as he could tell, his mother was still alive. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Dropping to her knees beside him, Willow elbowed him aside.

  “Let me,” she said, her voice calm and certain. “I think I can help.”

  “Are you a healer?” Raw hope filled the king’s voice.

  After the briefest hesitation, Willow shook her head. “Only with animals, but I think I can help.” She placed her hands on the queen’s forehead and took a deep breath. “She has only fainted. Give her a moment to come around.”

  King Leo gave his wife a tiny shake. “Ionna,” he said again.

  To everyone’s immense relief, this time the queen stirred at the sound of her name. A second later, she opened her eyes.

  “What happened?” she mumbled, struggling to sit up. Then she caught a glimpse of the maid. Grimacing, her eyes widened. “Oh. Shadefire.”

  She looked at Ruben and swallowed hard. “I was walking by and noticed your door was open. As I approached and saw the maid, I also saw a man standing over her.”

  “Can you describe him?” Ruben asked, pushing away the hard knot of anger that had his inner wolf baring his teeth and snarling.

  “Yes.” Swallowing hard, she said, “Tall, blond, handsome. He had the strangest color eyes. They were purple. He looked right at me and then took something off your dresser before he ran away, out the window.” She winced, looking queasy but resolute as she turned her gaze to Willow, indicating the maid. “Please, even if you are not truly a healer, help her if you can.”

  With a small nod, Willow rose and went to the other woman, kneeling down and feeling for a pulse. After a moment she bowed her head, her mouth moving silently.

  When she finally looked up, her eyes were full of pain and regret. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.”

  “How did she die?” the queen asked softly.

  “Someone hit her.” Pointing at the woman’s face, she sighed. “Numerous times. It appears she hit her head there.” She indicated the corner of the dresser. “See the blood? That final blow is what killed her.”

  King Leo cursed, a particularly virulent word that he normally wouldn’t have used in mixed company. “First a bomb, now a murder.”

  “This had to have been the man we saw following Willow,” Ruben said. “No one else has eyes that color.”

  He looked at Willow. “So I’ll ask you again. Are you with the extremists?”

  She lifted her chin. “And I’ll tell you again. I am not. I didn’t know I was being followed, but all of my people have violet or purple eyes.”

  “Except you,” Ruben said, not entirely certain he believed her.

  “Except me,” Willow agreed. “And that’s a story for another day.”

  “So it wasn’t the extremists,” King Leo said, giving Ruben a sharp look that meant he wasn’t to protest. “Which makes sense, as they’ve never done things on an individual scale before. They go for as much damage as they can get with a single blow. Which means this killing...”

  “Doesn’t make sense,” Queen Ionna finished, her expression worried.

  “I agree.” The king began to pace. “And the more havoc they wreak, the less close we are to understanding the reason why.”

  Ruben realized what the open box on his dresser meant and Ruben frowned, barely keeping his fury leashed. Inside, his wolf fought to come to the surface, all teeth and claws and rage. Darkness warring with light—shredding the edges of his sanity.

  As though she somehow sensed this, Willow held out her hand and let him help her to her feet. The instant his fingers wrapped around hers, he felt a calming sense, like she’d poured a healing balm over an open and festering wound.

  “Whoever killed her took your mother’s earring,” he told her, unclenching his teeth in an effort to speak normally. “Apparently, they believed it to be valuable enough to kill for. I’m very sorry.”

  “I am too,” she said, her caramel-colored eyes shiny with unshed tears. “While that piece of jewelry definitely is priceless, it’s certainly not worth a life.”

  As she moved slightly closer, her scent reached him, lilac and vanilla and some other muskier spice. The heady combination made him want to pull her even closer, to burrow his face in her hair and inhale her. He found himself wondering if she would taste as good as she smelled.

  This time, his wolf shook himself, as though shaking off water. This action brought Ruben out of the foolish—and dangerous—line of thought.

  “Murder and theft? Who could have done such things?” Queen Ionna asked, her husky tone vibrating with a combination of shock and anger.

  Rushing to his wife’s side, King Leo met Ruben’s gaze before facing his captain of the guard. “Drake, I want you to find out how the killer escaped.”

  “If he did,” Ruben put in. “For all we know, he might still be in the castle.”

  Though he didn’t say the rest of it, he could see from Willow’s expression that she was thinking it, too. The killer might have been the same man who’d been following her. And he might have planted the bomb at the dance the night before.

  If so, had the royal family of Teslinko actually been the target? Or had the intruder been after Willow all along?

  * * *

  Though Willow had no idea who had tracked her across her home forest and through the veil, from the description Prince Ruben and his father gave, she knew the man who’d been following her had to be one of the Bright. The humans had another name for her people, the Sidhe. This name comprised both people of the Bright and of the Shadows, though in human lore they were the Seelie and the Unseelie, or the bright and the dark.

  From the stories she’d grown up with, she wouldn’t put it past one of the Shadows to have followed her here and killed a human maid to gain a little bit of Bright magic. However both Ruben and his father had said the man was fair-haired with a pale complexion.

  Which meant her tracker had to be Bright. Unless...she frowned, wondering why she hadn’t thought of this before, unless there was a man among the Shadows who was exactly like her—the opposite of his own people.

  Though the idea seemed intriguing, she immediately discounted it. She had no doubt she would have heard about such a man. Despite their animosity, she figured gossip traveled quite easily among the two Sidhe courts. Just as everyone among the Shadows was most likely well aware of her existence, if such an aberration existed among their people, she and all the Brights would know. Unless savages were better at keeping secrets, which she doubted.

  Therefore, the man had to be a Bright. But her people did not kill. Such evil violence was strictly for those among the Shadows,
or so she’d been raised to believe. For most of her life, she’d sensed undercurrents below the perfect, Bright surface. Was such darkness one of them?

  Her thoughts must have shown on her face. When she blinked and looked up, she caught Prince Ruben studying her, his amber eyes intense.

  “May I have a word with you in private?” he asked, taking her elbow in a firm grip so she’d know declining was not an option.

  Even now his touch made her want to lean into him and rub against him like an affection-starved cat. Strange and oh-so-foolish.

  To distract herself, she glanced at the king, still with his arm around his visibly shaken wife. Neither even looked at her, though the tense set of the king’s broad shoulders revealed his anger. The queen would be all right, despite her earlier faint, and there was nothing Willow could do for the poor maid.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Ruben and nodded. She wished she had enough willpower to pull away from his touch. Either that, or lean into it.

  Foolish, foolish, Willow, she chided herself.

  They stepped into the hallway, still teeming with guards and other curious guests and servants. Ruben took no notice of them, steering her down the hall, into a quiet and relatively private corner.

  As he stood gazing down at her, her heart rate sped up, so fast she wondered if he could see her pulse jumping at the base of her throat.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said, his expression inscrutable. “When I saw you breaking in to my bedroom, I—”

  “I didn’t know it was your bedroom,” she felt compelled to point out, hating the breathlessness that crept into her voice no matter how hard she tried to keep it out. “But I owe you an apology, as well. I should never have tried to get my earring back the way I did. I should have just asked you about it.”

  At her words, his gaze darkened. “Why didn’t you?”

  She told herself she imagined the dangerous note in his voice. “Good question.”

  Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, she tried to sound casual. There was no way in shadows that she could tell him the truth.

  She hadn’t wanted to see him again. She’d been completely and utterly flabbergasted at the way he made her feel. Still was, in fact.

  Instead, she thought it would be better to stick to business. “However, I can promise you if I’d had enough time to locate my earring, I would have been gone without troubling anyone. Most certainly your maid wouldn’t have been killed.” Her voice wobbled on the last.

  “It’s not your fault,” he murmured, and then he did the one thing she both craved and wished to avoid. He pulled her close, tucking her into his hard and muscular side.

  A jolt of desire shot through her. Shades, she wanted more. Much, much more. Her body—and no doubt her face—burned at the idea.

  Luckily, he appeared too engrossed in his train of thought to notice. “I’m going to hunt down this man and make him pay for what he’s done.”

  She was used to seeing the supernatural, and something around him caught her eye. What the...? Eyeing him, she told herself she must have imagined the wild beast shimmering around his body. A wolf. An aura of a wolf. How was such a thing even possible? She blinked and it was gone. Or had it ever been? No. She couldn’t have actually seen anything. She must have been thinking of the creatures she knew in the forest.

  Forcing herself back on track, she took a deep breath. “I’ll help you all I can.” Even as she spoke the vow, she knew she would do whatever it took. Because if he was from her people, then she suspected the killer was no longer in this realm.

  Had someone else found the veil?

  She moved carefully, tried to put a decent amount of space between them. Even as she did, he pulled her back, keeping her close.

  Why? Because he liked the feel of her as much as she liked the feel of him? Or because he wanted to keep her from being able to run away?

  Though the first explanation was more appealing, she settled on the second, choosing logic over a flight of fancy.

  His next words bore her out. “Since my father appears to be well acquainted with your parents,” he said, a thread of steel creeping back into his deep, sexy voice, “perhaps I need to meet them, as well.”

  For half a second, her heart stopped. Even as it resumed beating, she shook her head. “That’s not possible,” she began.

  “I want you to take me with you to your home,” he continued, as though she hadn’t even spoken.

  The very idea was not only impossible, but ludicrous. “I can’t do that,” she said flatly. “Sorry. You had a bomb go off here recently. Isn’t that enough to keep you occupied?”

  “We know who set off the bomb. A group of extremists. My father has been searching for them for some time. He doesn’t need me for that. Now a woman in my employ was brutally murdered and your mother’s earring was stolen by someone who can only be one of your people.” He tightened his grip on her arm, his hard body now appearing menacing, though still far too sexy. “You can, and you will.”

  Enough was enough. This time, Willow pulled away, shaking off his touch as though she found it not only distasteful, but repellent. And this time, he let her go.

  Which, oddly enough, rankled. Calling herself all kinds of fool, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze, taking care not to let any hint of her thoughts show on her face. She’d watch for the first opportunity and then she’d simply disappear. Prince Ruben might search for her, but he’d never find her once she set foot across the veil.

  Despite her best efforts, something of her thoughts must have come through her expression. Watching her, his dark eyes narrowed. “Guards,” he called. “Come here, please.”

  She stiffened, wondering what he meant to do to her now. He wouldn’t dare have her thrown into a dungeon, would he? Not with the king and queen in the area, she reassured herself. After all, even if Ruben didn’t, King Leo knew who she was.

  Down the hall, the king and queen and their retinue of guards exited Ruben’s bedroom, moving toward them. The noise level must have drowned out Ruben’s summons, because no one paid them any heed.

  “Guard,” Ruben called again, clearly annoyed at the delay. “Here. Now.”

  Immediately, one of the uniformed guards stepped closer. Ruben reached out and snagged a pair of metal handcuffs off the other man’s belt. Then, as she gaped at him in disbelief, he snapped one around her wrist, the other around his.

  “You can and you will,” he repeated. “We cannot be separated now. Take me or you’re not going home at all.”

  Dumbfounded, Willow looked toward his father for help, knowing he’d understand the dilemma. But King Leo was occupied with his semiconscious wife and the investigation going on with the murder scene. Still, she knew he would definitely not appreciate her taking his first born son across the veil into the land of the Sidhe. Who knew how much time might pass until his return?

  “Your Highness,” she called, pitching her voice to carry over the background noise. “Please. I need a moment of your time.”

  King Leo held up one finger, indicating he would be with her in a moment.

  “Don’t try and play on my father’s sympathy.” Expression like stone, Ruben tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

  “Wait.” She dug in her heels and again cast an entreating look toward Ruben’s parents. “This is not a good idea at all. He can explain that to you.”

  “Why don’t you explain and save us all time?” His voice silky smooth, he gave her a look that plainly said he was calling her bluff.

  Once more she tried to make eye contact with the king. Instead of moving toward her, he’d actually moved farther back toward the room, conferring with several of his guards.

  “Fine,” she sighed, seeing no other way for it. “You can’t come home with me. I come from another land, completely outside your realm.”

  “So?” Arms crossed, impatience made him seem both arrogant and wild, which called to her as all wild things did.

&nbs
p; She took a deep breath and resisted. “Where I come from is a magical place.”

  “Which is why you claim time passes differently there than it does here?”

  Pleased that he appeared to understand, she nodded. “Exactly. If I were to take you with me, even if it seemed like you were only gone days, you might return back to find a month or two had passed.”

  For a moment he only eyed her, as though trying to gage her sincerity. When her expression remained serious, he slowly shook his head. “Magic?”

  She nodded.

  “Another realm?”

  Again, she shook her head yes.

  “Are you telling me you’re what—an...Elf?” Eyebrow raised, he looked as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to laugh or grimace.

  She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what? A Fairy?” He said the word with such distaste that her smile widened.

  “Neither. I’m a Sidhe. I come from the Court of the Bright.”

  “Right,” he drawled. “And since we’re telling truths, you might as well know about me. I’m a shape-shifting werewolf.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  And stalemate. She didn’t know how else she could get him to believe her. Maybe if he heard the truth from his father, he’d understand.

  But no, once again Ruben began moving toward the stairs, tugging her along with him. As she had before, she dug in her heels, grabbing hold of a passing door frame to slow their progress.

  To his credit, though Ruben could have moved her by force, he did not. Why, she didn’t know. Perhaps he didn’t want to make a scene.

  “Your sire knows the truth.” This time, she allowed a thread of desperation in her voice. “Ask him. I guarantee he will not be happy if I take you to my land.”

  “Still sticking with your bizarre story?” He shook his head. “You should have tried something a bit more believable.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Right.” He gave her another tug. “Come on, let’s go.”

  This time, he succeeded in yanking her a few feet down the hall. Since she had only one free hand to try and hold on, she knew if he gave her other arm one final, sharp tug, she’d be around the corner and away from the only other person who had a hope of making him understand.