Page 4 of A Crown of Fates

I blink, my irritation dimming. The nausea that had gripped me for days has vanished. Damn her for being helpful in the most infuriating way possible.

“Thank you,” I mumble begrudgingly, brushing off the last remnants of sparkly powder from my travel-worn dress—a simple blue cotton thing, wrinkled beyond repair after spendingmost of the journey hunched over a bucket and too tired to change.

Elyn cackles, a sound that somehow echoes in the stillness around us as she begins to walk away, but not before leaving us with what I assume is supposed to be an ominous warning. “You’d best hurry along, girls. You never know what might find you out here. Head for the side gate. I’m sure someone is waiting for you.”

Drea grips my arm tighter, her unease clear as she whispers, “We’re going to be the last ones to arrive. I can’t see the others anymore.”

I sigh, glancing up the path toward the looming castle ahead. Its stone walls are weathered, the large tan bricks fitting together like pieces of an ancient puzzle. It’s a far cry from the pristine castle of Polaris, where every stone gleams as though freshly laid. Here, the windows are dark, and the turrets stand empty, no sentries visible. Even the arched wooden doors, set with dark metal studs, look worn, as if the weight of the world has pressed down on this place for far too long.

“Yeah, well, I’m a princess of Polaris,” I remind her, my tone laced with exhaustion. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

I may no longer feel like hurling my guts out, but I’m still bone tired. It’s not just the seasickness or the sleepless nights on that ill-fated ship. It’s life. Sure, the past few weeks spent with Isla and our parents have been a blessing, along with reigniting my love for our pack, but it’s been a whirlwind of responsibility and uncertainty. A part of me craves a break, knows I need something just for me—time to myself, away from the demands of bloodlines, curses, and summons from kings I have no desire to meet.

Maybe after this.

An uneasy pressure settles deep in my chest, one that no amount of rest will shake. It tells me that this journey, this wholeordeal, is only the beginning of something more sinister than I can imagine. A fact that terrifies me considering I’ve been cursed to Earth for three hundred years and forced to forget my own identity and family, lifetime after lifetime. How much worse can things get?

Elyn disappears into the shadows, scurrying off in the opposite direction as we make our way along the fanned cobblestone path. Drea leads, her pace faster than mine, but I don’t force myself to rush. Not with the castle closer, its aura thick with age and mystery.

As we approach, there’s a man in his thirties that steps out from a small door near the gate we’ve been heading toward. He moves forward, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, complete with a maroon tie and pristine white shirt. His green eyes flick over Drea before settling on me. He bows deeply. “Princess Estee. My name is Cecil. We’re so pleased you could make the trip on behalf of Polaris. Please, allow me to escort you to the private chambers we’ve arranged for you.”

Before I can respond, another figure exits from wherever Cecil came from, but this guy goes straight for Drea as if he means to take her elsewhere. Instinctively, I grab her wrist, pulling her toward me. “She stays with me.” My voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

I’ve only just met Drea, but something about this place, about the way the shadows cling to the corners, makes me feel like I need to keep her close. The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. There’s something off here, more than just its wear and tear.

Cecil gives a curt nod, and the second figure retreats back where he came from without a word.

“Where’s everyone else?” I ask, noticing the distinct lack of women. The ship was full of them, all giddy with excitement, and yet the castle grounds are eerily quiet. I may not be queen, but I know enough about protocol to realize something’s off. Ishould’ve been one of the first to be greeted, not the last to arrive, regardless of how slow I was.

“They’ve been taken to a separate building to be prepared for the king’s audience, Your Highness,” Cecil replies smoothly. “I’ll be taking you to a room within the castle itself.” His eyes flick to Drea. “Both of you.”

His lips curl slightly at the end of his sentence, as if he has to force himself to seem friendly, or maybe he hates this situation as much as I do. Either way, I nod before pulling Drea a little closer as we start to walk again.

Her face is pale and eyes wide, confirming she’s as uneasy about all this as I am. But I squeeze her hand in silent reassurance. She’ll be fine. We both will.

We follow Cecil at a distance, my feet dragging slightly as we walk on the smooth cobblestone pathway leading to the main doors. On either side of us are patches of sparse green grass, statues half-hidden in the gloom, and twin fountains, each with three tiers of stagnant water. Even the air feels heavy, like it’s hiding something that I hope not to be here long enough to understand.

Cecil pushes open the main door with little effort, and I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. My wolf stirs within me, and I briefly close my eyes, calling her heightened senses forward to scan our surroundings.

The castle is quiet. Too quiet. The faint scent of cooking meat and bread baking wafts from somewhere deeper within, but it lacks the tantalizing richness I’ve come to expect from the grand kitchens of Polaris. A staleness overwhelms me as I inhale; yet, no matter how hard I try, I can’t pick up on anything exact to confirm the unease within me.

Annoyance gnaws at me. Maybe this place is just old, and my nerves are getting the better of me. After all, I’ve survived worse.

Cecil, ever patient, says nothing as I inch further into the castle. The large wooden doors close behind us with a dull thud, and we’re left standing on a maroon rug that stretches toward a grand staircase. The interior walls are the same tan stone as the outside, adorned with oil paintings, old armor, and ancient weapons—no sign of dust or decay.

Okay, so I might’ve preemptively judged. Just because they haven’t given this place a complete overhaul doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong.

Maroon and gold banners hang from the walls, bearing the sigil of Selaris: a crescent moon with a howling wolf in front of it. A reminder that this is a kingdom of shifters, one I hope to leave behind sooner rather than later.

Though, we still haven’t seen anyone else. Again, I try not to make assumptions. Maybe the staff is elsewhere, tending to the main group of women who arrived with us. A perfectly logical explanation.

Thinking this kingdom is in disarray and this sudden need for King Theo to find his mate is nothing more than a plot to ferret money out of whatever pack his mate might be from would just be crazy.

Right?

Cecil stops at a double set of doors, the same dark wood as the main entrance, but with smaller studs placed in rows of six. He grips the rose-shaped silver handle and twists before stepping back.

“Your Highness.” He gestures for me to proceed. “Since you’ve brought your own handmaiden, would you like me to cancel the one King Theo has reserved for you?”

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