Page 10 of The Princess and the Pack

Hawthorn nods, seeming to accept the explanation, and I can’t help the dark glee entering my heart. My father is probably rolling over in his grave at not being here to gloat over securing such an advantageous match for his heir. He’s the one who arranged this marriage, after all.

To be aligned with a country as strong as Lucernia is a dream in any regard, but especially for an island kingdom like Namara. We rely heavily on trade and the bounty the sea provides. Lucernia, with their riches and resources, is among our greatest trading partners. Securing a lasting union was a brilliant move by my father, though I’m loath to give him praise.

With eight Bancroft children born to the former king and queen, I’m certain every royal in their right mind fought to secure a coveted arrangement for their heirs. Each would be considered a prize for political gain alone, but it doesn’t hurt that the lot of them are painfully attractive by anyone’s standards.

The resemblance of my intended to her siblings is remarkable. Even with a simple glance, the familial tie between them is unmistakable. Their mother was rumored to be a great beauty, with her earthen hair and eyes like the sea. It is clear all of them have been so lucky as to inherit her features.

“It’s convenient we won’t have to make another voyage to attend your coronation, Your Majesty,” Prince Aspen jests. The third oldest of Ivy’s siblings stands apart in his stature. He is the most physically imposing—towering several inches above us all. His long hair extends past his broad shoulders, but it’s not quite as long as Ciaran’s.

My siblings and I are most familiar with Aspen, as he accompanied Ivy to Namara last spring. He and Ciaran took a real shine to each other over the course of his stay. My brother, it seems, hasn’t forgotten the prince over this year-long absence. Nor has he learned his open ogling is about as subtle as a brick to the face.

Many times I caught my brother fawning over the prince when he chaperoned Ivy’s visit. And many times I reminded him Aspen is betrothed to Princess Rhiannon. Just as Ciaran is intended to wed Prince Lanier. My brother is a smart man, but his heart is so tender—I worry he’ll end up hurt if he’s not careful.

“Idiot,” Prince Sage whispers, elbowing his younger brother in the ribs. Sage is the quietest of the group, though it’s clear he is not shy. Rather, he finds value in assessing his surroundings and absorbing information over speaking unnecessarily.

“It will be a great honor to be crowned with your sister by my side,” I offer, waving off the remark. It’s true—the timing is rather convenient. With the wedding happening so soon after my father’s passing, Ivy and I can now share our coronation. “My court is very eager to welcome her, as is evident by their celebrations this evening.”

Sage smirks then, shifting his gaze to Hawthorn and raising a brow. Something silent passes between them, and for the first time since we entered the room, I’m unsettled by the possibility of why the Bancrofts wanted to meet privately. Surely it’s too late for them to oppose the marriage. With mere hours until the ceremony is set to begin, I won’t hear of postponing unless Ivy is the one protesting.

But she wouldn’t, would she? Nothing in her letters this past year has given me any indication she is unhappy or uncertain about our joining. I can’t imagine her mind would have changed since our last correspondence.

Courting my wife from afar hasn’t been ideal, but I’ve made it a point to write to her each week—no matter how brief or insignificant the letter. I may have taken away our opportunity to get to know each other while she visited, but ever since she fell asleep in my arms all those nights ago, I vowed she would never worry over my rapt and absolute interest in her again.

“About my sister,” Hawthorn says with little affect, not betraying his emotions.

He seems in no hurry to deliver what I’m sure is world-ending news. If he tries to take her from me, I may be forced to behave in a manner that would launch both our countries into a certain war.

“What about her?” I ask with trepidation.

The king clears his throat and straightens his shoulders in a move that demands respect. “I’ll say this once and once only, Majesty. You will treat her well, with the respect and kindness she is owed as a Lucernian royal, or you won’t like what happens. Do we understand each other?”

Relief floods through my veins. I’m both offended he would think I could ever dishonor Ivy, and proud he cares for her happiness as I do. It is clear to me Hawthorn is not only an admirable ruler, but an honorable alpha as well.

“After tomorrow, your sister will not only become my wife but also my queen. No day will pass when she is not first in my heart. I swear it.”

Silence envelops the space as my vow settles around us. Ivy’s brothers don’t know what she means to me, but my words couldn’t be any truer. She will always be my first priority—above my own well-being and even my duty to my kingdom.

The seriousness of the moment is broken when Prince Aspen bellows out a pleased laugh. “Good man,” he says, extending his hand in friendship. “I’d have hated to rough up your pretty face.”

Sage offers the same gesture with a curt nod, followed by the king, who simply regards me with what appears to be relief in his eyes. Whatever test this evening was meant to be, I believe I’ve passed.

Though I’m elated to have the approval of her brothers, nothing would have stopped me from making Ivy mine. The fact that they won’t stand in my way simply makes my goal easier to achieve.

What remains to be seen is how freely they will offer their acceptance once they learn their sister will wear my marksandthose of my packmates as well. But that problem is for a later time.

For now, with the heavy topics out of the way, and Callan’s inability to pass up a chance to partake in my private collection of spirits, we celebrate. Drinks are passed about freely and stories are shared until the hours bleed together.

* * *

“It’s time,I think, we let the king retire. He has a big day tomorrow,” Hawthorn slurs. The apples of his cheeks are now flushed after one too many drinks, and his dark blue eyes are more than a bit glassy.

It has been hours since Ivy’s brothers and I came to an understanding—hours well spent with laughter. Never had I hoped to build a familial bond between us. A necessary diplomatic relationship, yes, but the tone of this evening went well beyond. Perhaps it’s not as foolish as I once believed to hope my mate’s family might stand behind us and the changes we will inevitably make.

It’s clear the Bancroft alphas love their younger sisters and brother dearly. Would they not want them to be fulfilled in all the ways omegas are meant to be? Shouldn’t they want to spare them the same fate as their mother?

More than once I’ve held my tongue about all I know and what I hope to do about it. The spirits may have loosened my lips, but the fear that Ivy could be taken from me has kept my thoughts firmly under lock and key. Everything will have its proper time and place.

First, I need my wife.

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