Chapter 193

My eyes are fastened on the door the entire time it’s closed. Even when Rafe tries to pull me away I hastily shove him, not caring who sees.

Anxious as hell, I send shout after shout down the line of my bond with Luca, trying to figure out what’s happening, what he’s feeling, what on earth my father is saying to him right now.

But there’s nothing coming back – our bond is completely sealed off. Banging against it is like pounding on a concrete wall – I’m not sure that Luca even feels the echo.

Still, as desperate as I am to know what the hell is going on? Not a part of me even thinks about interrupting.

Because when my dad is mad?

You do…you do not get in his way.

The door snaps open and dad strides in and my eyes, if possible, go wider. Dad storms into the room and quite frankly it’s impressive – whatever angry conversation he just had with Luca definitely put him in the right mood to intimidate our foes. But my mouth falls open when I see Luca.

God, his skin is ashen – actually grey. He doesn’t look up – not at me, not at anyone – just walks hastily to Ben’s side at the end of the line of Cadets and takes his spot there, standing perfectly still.

Rafe elbows me, hard, as the door at the other end of the room opens. I ignore him, my eyes fastened on my mate, seriously worried about him –

“Ariel!” Rafe hisses, and the anxiety in his voice breaks me out of it. I snap my head up to look at him. “Luca later – now, this.”

He nods, hard, at the entering Atalaxian delegation. I snap my mouth shut, realizing that he’s right – that I have a job to do today as the Nation’s Princess. So I square my shoulders and exhale a long breath from between my teeth, focusing.

To my surprise, I am immediately distracted by the men who march into the other side of the room and begin take their places seats before us, some sitting and some standing, as we are. All of the Atalaxians march with military precision, dressed in black uniforms – I guess neither of us are very creative there – and looking entirely like a unit. I take a moment to look around at our own more heterogeneous gathering of people, deciding that I like it more. Not only do we have women and people of many ages represented, but there are people here from many walks of life – not just military.

Moon Valley, I know, has celebrated diversity as a strength since the moment my father took the throne. I raise my chin, proud of that, proud of the group of people we’ve mustered here to meet the Atalaxians, who value the complete opposite.

The room is square and arranged almost like a parliament, with rows of chairs on either side so that everyone can see each other. I stand with Rafe slightly to the right of center – the spot reserved for our parents, Cora, and Roger - and I take special note of the people who stand directly across from us, likewise taking the place of pride.

An older man is clearly their leader. He wears no crown, but instead an impressive number of medals across his chest that mark him as a senior member of their military. The young man standing next to him, however – slowly studying us with stunning sapphire-blue eyes – wears a crown – just a thin band of silver, or perhaps of iron. But still, a member of their royal family. I hadn’t noticed him at the fight – had he perhaps not been there? Or just not wearing his crown?

When his eyes land on me he pauses for a moment, and then smirks, a derisive laugh pulsing quickly through him. My eyes narrow just slightly, but that’s the only reaction I let him have. I hold his gaze for a moment and then move on as the last of the Atalaxian delegation files in. My eyes move next to the young man standing next to the Prince – about my age.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, lanky and handsome. I blink for a moment, and then look between this young man and the Prince next to whom he stands. God, they could be brothers, couldn’t they? But this one doesn’t wear a crown. Still, the family resemblance is incredible – I know without a doubt that they’re related, that there’s another royal of some variety standing across from me. As I study him, this second royals eyes suddenly meet mine, and as they do a shudder passes through me.

I stand up straight, my eyes widening. And he does the same.

We stare at each other for a long, long moment, both shocked and curious. Because what…what the hell was that?

But in a moment he looks away, frowning a bit, clearly as confused as I am. I don’t look away though, watching him closely, trying to figure it out. He continues to study our group passively, but then his eyes flare, and he drops them to the ground. I tilt my head, still watching, and see that he does not again look up.

Inside, my wolf nips me, her hackles a bit raised. You watch him, she murmurs, wary.

What? I ask her, looking between this young man and the Prince next to him who – I’m not sure why – seems…much more vicious to me. Which one?

The one with the crown, she replies. I don’t know what, but he…he gets under my skin, makes me itchy, makes me want to run, roll in fresh mud, climb in a river and wash myself clean. His wolf – not right…not right.

I frown a little, anxiety turning in me, because…what’s happening here?

“Thank you for meeting with us,” my father booms out, and my head snaps to the left, to where he stands with my mother, his beautiful Queen, stoic by his side. “Though I admit that I don’t understand the purpose of this meeting – not when we have at least ten smaller peace councils scheduled over the course of the next few days of your visit.”

The older man at their center, the one to their Prince’s right, breathes in a heavy breath, as if he’s almost tired by it all. “There will be no need for those,” he says, his voice soft and stern. “This will be our last meeting. And it will, in itself, be quick.”

I stand up straight in my surprise – because this is…unexpected. Unprecedented! This whole visit was arranged around peace, with the boxing match meant to be a public sporting event between nations, an olive branch extended to demonstrate that we’re not as different as we think we are. But then to cancel the peace talks after that?

What…what went wrong?

I glance up at my brother, worried. He glances down at me, a frown on his own lips, clearly feeling the same.

“Speak plainly, Gibson,” my father snaps out. “What is the meaning of this? Why cancel early? We haven’t even begun.”

“Because,” Gibson, their military commander, replies. “We saw everything we needed to see last night. Our reaction is unanimous. We are ready to end this war.”

Hope swells in me alongside the rush of whispers that break out amongst my people. Is it…is it really that easy?

But my father’s voice is wary, not buying it. “Should I take this to mean,” he asks, his voice low with his disbelief, “that you wish to draw up a peace accord? Because rest assured, we can do that…very quickly.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Gibson replies on a bored intake of breath. And then he exhales slowly, a wicked grin shaping his mouth. “What I mean to say is that…after your shameful display last night, with your weak champion – who relies on a woman for strength – that Atalaxia is recommitted to our original plan.”

I clench my jaw to keep my mouth from falling open in my shock because…what!?

“Yes,” Gibson drawls, looking around at all of us with distaste, like we’re horrible scum and he’s at risk of infection just by breathing the same air as us. “We find your champion,” he sneers at Luca here, who hangs his head, “as emblematic of Moon Valley’s rather faulty prowess: short-lived, weak, and too dependent on women for its strength.”

His eyes flick to me here and I raise my chin, not letting him intimidate me. Luca did need my help last night against his opponent, who was a cheat and a ringer, emblematic of Atalaxia itself. All it proves to me is that with the help of its women, Moon Valley can beat even the worst odds. I won’t let myself be cowed by this man’s ineffectual insults.

“You will keep a civil tongue,” my dad snaps, his voice dangerous and low, “when speaking of my women. Especially my daughter.”

The Atalaxian waves a hand, dismissing the point. “The fight served its purpose” he continues, sounding bored. “That Moon Valley is weak and in need of guidance. After this Atalaxia is newly determined to conquer Moon Valley, to take over the governance of your lands and to teach your people about proper modesty and morality.”

A snarl threatens to break from my throat at his words and only years of diplomatic training keep it down. Others in our party are not so successful, and as I glance around I see even Daphne bearing her teeth at the insult.

“I will return home today,” Gibson continues, ignoring the protest, speaking over our people. “And recommend a full onslaught. Prepare yourself, Sinclair.” His smirk deepens. “We’re going to throw everything we’ve got at you – and we’ve been holding back. Your pathetic little kingdom…” he sneers and looks around at all of us, “won’t exist in a month.”