Page 71 of Settle Down, Princess

“Jessalyn will have reservations.” They all looked at me. “She’d have to. The girl’s not stupid.”

“No, but we’ve been pretty fucking obtuse,” Silas said.

“We haven’t treated her well.” I shook my head. “Me least of all.” It wasn’t my admission of guilt that had their attention. I was falling back into a familiar role. I took command of our pack, led us into terrible situation after terrible situation and managed to get us out safe, and that track record was what built their confidence in my words. “I’ll make sure to apologise for every infraction.”

“I’d like to see that.” Roan smiled as his arms crossed his chest.

“But even if I fall on my knees before her,” I said, “that doesn’t mean she’ll forgive me, or that she’ll forgive all of us.”

“That’s not how it works here,” Creed said. His smile softened slightly. “Because the males have all the certainty about our fated mates and the women have none, we have to show her now, in word and deed, that we see her, hear her, and will provide her with whatever it is she needs.” He looked us over, the wolf pushing forward to make clear how important this was. People said I was the brain of the unit, but he had always been the heart. “She has to truly understand that she is our highest priority.”

“As if that wasn’t already the case.” Roan rolled his eyes. “Silas here was falling over himself to show her how to defend herself.”

“While you kept ‘protecting’ her, as if you were a gallant knight of yore,” Silas shot back. “And Creed followed her around like a lost puppy.” Unfortunately, with three of the four now having been critiqued, everyone’s attention then shifted to me. “Whereas Arik tried so very hard to convince us she meant nothing to him at all.” He smirked. “Something you shouldn’t have had to put any effort into, if it was true.”

He was so very perceptive, my brother-in-arms, but even he couldn’t see into the dark depths of my soul. Especially when I forced myself to laugh along with everyone else at my expense.

“Well, are we going to stand around here and argue who’s the most besotted with the princess, or are we going to find her and fall on our swords?” I asked.

“Finally, a worthy mission to complete,” Roan said, grinning as we walked across the square, past the houses in the centre, and down a lane that led to the healer’s cottage.

The smile was still on his face when he stopped to take in a deep breath, bending down and plucking a bright-blue cornflower that grew along the dirt track, then a red poppy, and finally a yellow daisy. Creed stepped in to collect a handful of delicate white blooms that left a sweet perfume in the air. Then Silas approached some women who were working in their gardens and wheedled some grander flowers from them to add them to the mix, critiquing our pack’s efforts at making a posy before taking over the entire process, arranging them to his satisfaction. Each bloom was cast in gold by the midday sun, and I knew I’d remember this moment just as I would that image of Creed touched by joy.

I just hoped I’d never regret it.

Roan tried to snatch the flowers out of Silas’ grip and march up to the healer’s cottage, but while they were squabbling, Creed took control of the posy and held it close to his chest. I’d seen him face howling enemies, men who would like nothing more than to spit in his face as they drove their sword into him, and his nerve hadn’t faltered for a second. It did now. He drew in a breath, the others finally falling quiet as he knocked on the door. I’d expected Marian to open it with that same spark of irritation, but instead it was her.

Princess Jessalyn Pearl Yasmina Tennesley stood in the doorway, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders in a loose mass, the more casual dress of the wolf shifter women suiting her. She was beautiful, seeming to soak in every bit of radiance, but that wasn’t what made my heart clench in my chest.

“Princess…” Creed’s voice broke on her title. “Jessalyn, we did everything wrong.” He glanced over his shoulder at us, but only the other two moved closer. “We didn’t tell you who we were when we met, and each one of us took advantage of a girl who was desperate and not in her right mind. There was an opportunity to right that wrong when we met formally, and we didn’t take it.”

The posy dropped a little and she tracked its movement, preferring to stare at the wildflowers than us.

“We could’ve taken you to the border to Lanzene or Matteau or even down river like you wanted. We could’ve disregarded the king’s orders…” He paused then, seeing a string of other princesses, I was willing to bet. “As we should’ve a long time before. We should’ve made you feel safe and protected, and instead you thought we were marching you towards certain death. And when you sought help from other men…”

When his hands went to claws, I half wished mine could do the same, exorcising that hot spiky feeling I’d felt when I realised Jessalyn had been taken.

“We should’ve understood why you did that.”

“Instead, we just thought about what we felt.” Roan tried to shoot her a sheepish smile, but it faltered under her steady gaze. “How worried we were.”

“How furious we were that someone else had taken a woman we’d come to think of as ours.” Silas’s voice cut through the tense mood. “When we’d done nothing to earn the right to claim you at all.”

“We did everything wrong.” I watched Creed’s head drop, his brows crease. “Everything. When I think about what we put you through…” His eyes jerked up to meet hers. “I’m sorry, Jessalyn. I don’t know how else to say it, but…”

His voice trailed away as she wrapped her hand around his, and right then I wondered if his heart stood still at her touch. Mine was still beating, I was aware of that dimly, but only just. His big, sunburnt hands and her much more delicate ones made a pretty picture of contrasts, but she touched him only long enough to squeeze his fingers and then take the posy. Pink stained her cheeks as she bent her head to breathe in their perfume and, just for a minute, I could trick myself into thinking she was just a wolf shifter girl and we were her pack, begging for her attention.

But she wasn’t.

“Thank you for the flowers, Master Creed.” Her tone was soft but devoid of any real warmth. Using his title made her words polite, removed. This was a brush off. I knew it because I’d done the same with other women often enough, though I never expected to be on the receiving end. “But I—”

This was my fault, what was about to happen. She was going to reject him, reject the others, before they’d even had an opportunity to make their case. Creed would be doomed to never touch another woman again. Silas and Roan would lose themselves in the arms of whores, never finding satisfaction but always looking for it. We’d fracture, shatter, break, all due to a small girl whose power was such she’d be able to sunder pack bonds that had withstood everything my bloody brother had thrown at us.

And I couldn’t allow that to happen.

I relived once more the memory of my father, gasping on the throne room floor with Magnus’ knife in his chest. Father’s heart’s blood had kept seeping out, even as I tried to stem the flow. My eyes ached anew with unshed tears as I remembered my brother’s expression—one of perfect triumph—as he clawed back the title of king, the one my father had tried to bestow upon me.

My reasoning for keeping Jessalyn at arm’s length was sound, but I didn’t like the consequences. I hated the shadow of hurt haunting her eyes and how she kept her emotions locked behind a cool mask. Because that’s what you did if you lived within a royal court. Never complain, never explain, just stuff it all down. But I knew I’d have given anything—anything—to see Jessalyn’s eyes flash again, with anger, with passion, with something beyond that artificially cool politeness.

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