Page 21 of Promised to the Alpha Prince

“All right,” I said.

aurelie

KARNIG CASTLE WAS dark and dreary. There were only small, narrow windows here and there, and all of the decor was paintings of various battles, Valhn warriors riding on steeds, victorious over bodies which were depicted in sometimes gruesome ways. There was one with a man standing over another man—with about five spears sticking out of his body. The triumphant man had his foot on the man’s body, his long hair flowing out behind him as he sneered out of the painting.

There was a fire going in my room, even though it was springtime. The room itself was vast and full of luxurious details—gold-threaded coverlets on the four-poster bed, sumptuous pillows, overstuffed leather easy chairs set up in front of the fire. It was a nice room, a room fit for a princess.

I was going to be a princess.

But all I felt, in the pit of my stomach, was that I was small and sad and unimportant.

I changed into my dress for the luncheon. We’d dithered over it when planning it out. It was a formal luncheon, which was a bit of a contradiction in terms. Formality typically came with a set of expectations when it was in the context of evening.

It meant a formal evening gown, which would be floor length, usually without sleeves or with short sleeves, hair up, tasteful jewelery.

For a luncheon, however… no one was formal in the afternoon.

So, we’d opted for a dress made of silks and lace but with a higher hem, slightly shorter than tea length, but still covering my knees. For a whimsical touch, I’d decided to add gloves, because it made the dress look more formal, a throwback to the expectations centuries ago.

But I wore my hair down, with two little jeweled clips pulling some of it back from my face in the front. I did this myself, because there wasn’t anyone there to help or to dress me, and I wasn’t sure if that was the norm. Maybe if I were to be doing some public function, maybe then I’d have an army of stylists?

At the appointed time, I left my room and went wandering around the place. I remembered where the dining room was, because it was where I’d dined with Dmitri before, and I’d noted its location as I was being shown to my room.

Halfway there, I was accosted by a servant who was flustered, saying they’d been looking all over for me.

I apologized. No one had told me I’d be fetched for luncheon. How was I supposed to know that?

I was sequestered in a room near the dining room where I was pleased to see Prince Johannes. There were other people in the room, many of whom I recognized as members of Valhn royalty. They were almost all alphas, and the scent of it was practically enough to choke me.

I hurried over to Johannes, wanting the safety and familiarity of him, of his scent.

He was chatting with a striking woman I recognized as Princess Ilse. She was third in line to the throne after Johannes. She was an alpha. She had blond hair and those icy blue eyes that everyone in Valhn seemed to have. She was tall, very tall, but elegant, with a strength that seemed to permeate the air. Her scent was steadying.

She smiled at me, and I liked her instantly, which was ridiculous.

Alphas!

I hadn’t known it would be like this.

“Oh, here she is,” said Ilse. “She’s perfect. Johannes, you didn’t tell me how perfect she was.”

“Didn’t I?” said Johannes, grinning at me. “Look at you, Aurelie. This dress. You’re stunning.”

I ducked my head down, shyly basking in the praise. I wasn’t used to it, but it was nice.

“I like the gloves,” said Ilse, her voice a little throaty. “Such a nice touch. This? Really, Dmitri, who has a formal luncheon?”

I laughed, at ease. “Exactly. We were all flummoxed. My mother spent two days googling, trying to figure out what the rules would be.”

“He should have had a dinner for you,” said Ilse. “He didn’t ask me. He doesn’t ask for advice, Dmitri. Just does things his way, and everyone on the staff is either dazzled by him because look at him, or is terrified of him, because—objectively terrifying, am I wrong?”

I laughed. “You think so, too?”

“I presented only a year after him,” said Ilse. “We’ve lived under the same roof for ages, and we do many public appearances together, he never speaks to me. Granted, when he does speak, it’s mostly, ‘Acceptable.’” She lowered her voice to mimic a man’s voice. “Or, ‘No, not acceptable.’” She turned to Johannes. “You’re friends with him. Does he say anything else?”

“Friends is overstating it,” said Johannes.

“Right, you two just share that Nikolai,” said Ilse. “So, maybe you just get together to compare schedules.” She lowered her voice again. “‘All right, then, you can sleep with him Wednesdays and Thursdays, and I’ll take Tuesdays and Fridays.’”

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