Page 87 of Settle Down, Princess

Her lips twitched, but she stopped herself from smiling.

“Well, now it’s in the hands of the fates. Good luck during the mating games, young Jess.”

“Thank you, Elder,” I said, bowing low, looking like the perfect mate candidate, all while clutching the oil to my chest.

Creed’s pack thought they were going to force me to engage with them? Well, I’d just have to show them the error of their ways. By the time the games were over, they’d be begging me to reject each and every one of them.

And then I’d be free.

That thought tantalised me more than any man ever could, and I clutched it tight, even as I walked out of the room.

Chapter 50

Silas

This was a hopeless cause.

Three days had passed since we’d been in the princess’ presence. Jessalyn had been moved from the healer’s cottage and into the single women’s long house. In response to what they’d been told about us, all the other women, including Creed’s own sister, formed an honour guard around our girl. And while I watched the lot of them chatter away in the dining hall, shooting us the occasional baleful look, I just remembered.

The way Jessalyn’s gown clung to her form as she dropped down into the bath, then that brief glimpse I had of her perfect skin as she whipped the dress up and over her head. I’d forced my eyes away, but I could fill in the gaps from the memories that felt seared on my brain. I could make her into a girl that turned towards me, an amused look in her eyes as she gestured for me and my knives to come forward…

But she didn’t.

The princess avoided my gaze assiduously. I knew this because I tried to capture her attention at all times, but if she deigned to look my way, her eyes slid over me with all the interest a perfect stranger might muster. So I’d spent my time away from her doing research, talking to the males here, mated and unmated, and finding out what the process was.

The stories were the same, whether they were from those who lived here or the ones that were now flooding into the pack village to participate in the games. They clapped me on the shoulders, told ribald tales of their exploits and how they got their mates to accept them, so I knew what today was. The official opening ceremony and… an opportunity to familiarise ourselves with our mate. Apparently, the whole of the games was both about proving ourselves worthy to our mate, but also to her family, so today we were about to parade past the entire host of wolf shifters currently residing on packlands, stripped to the waist and oiled up so we shone.

And Jessalyn was to be the one that oiled us up.

“Welcome to this year’s mating games!”

Elder Wren’s voice carried out across all the field, and I heard the crowd go silent as a result. Wolf shifters had discipline that humans could never match. I couldn’t see what was going on, because like all the other contenders, we were now standing in a massive tent, each pack clustered in their own little section.

“For the love of all the gods,” Roan muttered, undoing the ties of his shirt and jerking it up over his head. “I’m more bloody nervous than I was at my first battle.”

“Just don’t soak your breeches like you did at the battle of Nairne,” Arik snarked, as if the prick wasn’t already shirtless in readiness for our princess’ attentions. He was working his hands as well, clenching and releasing his fists to make his muscles pop. For all his dry manner, he was just as worked up as the rest of us.

“No one is soaking anything.” We all turned around at Creed’s sharp words. “No banter, no bullshit, just fucking humility.” A strange kind of stillness went over the whole pack. “We fucked everything up, and we will make this right.”

I nodded in recognition.

“As you say, brother.”

When I thrust my hand out for them to add theirs, I was reminded of all the times we’d done the same thing and managed to succeed against terrible odds. Their hands slapped down on mine, making clear they remembered. Creed nodded to me, then the others, right as Elder Wren made the announcement.

“We have many of our fine young males, seeking to find their mates this games. Shortly you will meet them all, but first… All the young females who have been chosen need to report to the main tent.”

She was coming. Jessalyn was coming here, and she would be forced to reckon with us. All of Arik’s posturing and Roan’s nerves made perfect sense as I flicked open every button of my perfectly tailored shirt and then tossed it on the ground, like it didn’t cost enough to feed several poor families for a week. My heart was pounding, my mouth dry as I stared at the doorway of the tent.

Women came. I could hear their chatter, their giggles, though they fell silent when the first of them came to the entrance. The females stopped where they were, regarding the lot of us, wide eyed. None of them were my Jessalyn. She would have marched over here, nose in the air, with an imperious look and a sharp word for us. Perhaps she stood in the middle of the group, rolling her eyes at this entire spectacle. Somehow the idea of that comforted me, but the women’s nervousness was dispelled as several males stepped closer.

That look, I knew it well. They raked their eyes over the tall, willowy wolf shifter woman nearest to us, like she was the most precious thing to walk the earth, and I knew then what she was to them. She hoisted up her jar of oil, no doubt provided for her by her family, and then grinned as she rushed forward. I was forced to look away when she went to smear it across their bare chests. Woman after woman streamed in, either finding her mates by sight, or the males made clear they were the ones that recognised her. Some went to work with gusto, oiling up each male, while others hung back, needing to be coaxed to complete the job. Every female began working with her males in some capacity as the last of the women walked in. Fern sighed, sighting her males as she rushed over to greet them, leaving Jessalyn just standing there.

That sardonic twist of her lips, the way her eyes raked across each one of our bare chests, but especially the way her smile faltered upon closer inspection: I soaked every moment of that in. She recovered terribly quickly, though, sauntering toward us with a bottle of oil in hand.

“Jessalyn—”

All the reverence I felt was in Creed’s voice, but she held up a hand.

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