And there it was. Again. Temptation. If he valued what was left of his mind, he knew he could not give in.
Watching as expensive car after expensive car rolled up the drive and disgorged its contents, he sighed. He’d better go change and prepare to do his time. If he was lucky, he could snag a couple of glasses of strong Scotch to help him survive the ordeal.
Trudging through the forest, the watered silk of her best formal dress bunched up in her fist, Willow of the SouthWard Brights tried to think happy thoughts. Because she couldn’t take a chance on getting dirty, she ignored the siren call of the wild animals watching her from their various hiding places around the thick forest.
All she’d have to do was crook her little finger and whistle, and they’d come. When they were with her, carnivores ignored their natural prey, and the most skittish of beasts calmed under her gentle hand.
It was a gift and one she had kept hidden, by necessity. The one time she’d tried to tell her mother, she’d been treated with scorn and derision. After that, she’d supposed everyone else would view her gift the same way, so she had kept it secret. Not only from the rest of her family, but from everyone in the kingdom. In a place where the level of magical ability meant power, Willow’s was a secret best kept inside.
Just like the tear in the veil.
She’d discovered the portal by accident a year ago while on one of her solitary strolls through the forest. Just because she didn’t cast spells or use magic like her mother and sister, didn’t mean she couldn’t sense it. And the lure of the shimmering veil had drawn her as surely as a bear to honey.
With it, she could cross between her world and that of the humans. She’d taken advantage of this numerous times in the months since, yet another secret she held close to her breast.
She quite enjoyed her anonymity in the human world. There, no one knew she was a princess. No one thought she looked different or looked down on her because she was lacking in magic.
A loner by nature, Willow had few friends among her kind. With a rueful smile, she stepped over a fallen log. Make that no friends. At least, not among her people—the Bright.
Forcing herself to focus on the present, she felt the siren thrum of the magic as she approached the veil. Her heartbeat quickened and the scents of the forest became sharper, more intense. Damp earth and plant, and the slightly acrid, barely detectable scent of its animal inhabitants.
As she neared the shimmering space, she felt an unfamiliar tickle of anticipation.
The royal family of Teslinko was having a ball. Tonight, in fact. According to the chatter she’d picked up hanging around near their castle, they’d been preparing for the huge event for weeks. Rumor had it that the king and queen were determined to find their son, Prince Ruben, a bride.
Willow cared about none of that. As the youngest—and least desirable—daughter of a powerful queen, she had her own worries about that area. According to her older—and much more beautiful—sister, Tatiana, Willow would remain unwed the rest of her natural-born, magic-less life.
Which, though occasionally sounding lonely, was all right with Willow.
Growing closer to the veil, she felt the pull of its magic. She took a deep breath, then another, allowing herself to feel the power of the ancient earth gathering under her feet and the rush of air swirling around this, an opening between worlds.
Ahead, in a clearing between two tall ash trees, the space flickered, odd shapes sparkling through a fog, as though one might be able to see them if one turned quickly enough. The magic was strong here, visible even to the untrained eye. Briefly she wondered how it was that a hapless human hadn’t managed to wander straight into it and wind up among the land of the Bright—her home.
Maybe, because the power felt so odd, humans instinctively avoided this area.
Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, Willow stepped into the shimmering veil and gave herself over to the magic.
Bored, drifting from one cluster of simpering women to another, trying not to gag on the choke of their strong perfume, Ruben glanced at his watch for the twentieth time and wondered how long he needed to stay. At least until the meal had been served, he estimated grimly. Naturally, the dinner service was a drawn out process that could take as long as two and a half hours. So for now, he was stuck.
His mother, Queen Ionna, had already taken him by the arm and dragged him around the crowded room, introducing him to what seemed like every unmarried woman under the age of forty. He’d taken care to be pleasant, nothing more, well aware of his mother’s displeasure when he didn’t choose one female to single out for his attentions.
He suspected several of the women were disappointed as well, though most took care not to show this. There were so many of them, women of every shape and size. Young and old, virgin and widow, his skin crawled as each eyed him as eagerly as if he were a prize stud up for auction to the highest bidder.
Which in a way, he supposed he was. His sister Alisa had often complained about this very thing. Aware of her tendency toward the dramatic, he’d never taken her complaints seriously. Now that she’d been married off and his parents’ focus had turned to him, he’d begun to see her point.
Restless, his wolf tested the edge of his control. Gritting his teeth, Ruben forced the beast back into his mental cage, a task growing more and more difficult.
At the thought, a wild longing swept him, freezing him in his tracks. To run free. Wild. As he pushed the desire away, he swore he could feel his wolf’s savage amusement.
Not good. So not good.
The evening was early yet, the music soft and the food and drink plentiful. He eyed the guests lingering over their cocktails, standing in clusters and conversing about financial markets, the latest fashions or the employment crisis in other nations. All topics which held zero interest for him.
He’d already downed two strong Scotch-and-waters and now sipped his third. Mildly intoxicated, he was well aware that he had to slow down if he wanted to keep the wolf at bay and the darkness inside him from leaking out. Wouldn’t do, he thought cynically, if the guests were to realize the heir to the throne grappled with bouts of insanity. The humans would be horrified and the Shifters … they’d be appalled. He could imagine the varied reactions. He wouldn’t be regarded as such a catch then.
Again, he nearly smiled, his wolf pacing restlessly, full of nervous energy. The idea almost sounded … good to him. Proof positive how unbalanced he’d become.
In the crowded ballroom, Shifters and humans mingled, the majority of the humans unaware that there were those among them who could change into a wolf at will. His boredom growing, Ruben began picturing their reactions if he were to calmly stroll out to the middle of the empty dance floor, strip off his tuxedo and drop to all fours to initiate the change that would turn his human form into that of a huge, nearly Feral, wolf.
Panic from the humans. His wolf snarled, enjoying the mental image. From his own kind, the Shifters, he expected he’d see a mixture of shock, anger and disgust.
His parents would be mortified. After the first moment of horror, the damage control would begin in earnest.
The thought made him smile again, a record as of late. Again, the idea felt tantalizing. As if he could close his eyes, let his tattered willpower fall away, and allow events to happen as they would. His wolf would take over. Everything would be out of Ruben’s hands.
So simple … He swayed, tempted. Snapping his eyes open, he took another slug of the strong liquor, letting it burn its way down his throat.
And therein lay the twisted path to madness.
Giving himself an inner shake, putting a choke hold on the furious wolf inside, he again began to make another circuit of the room, trying to regulate his breathing,