Anika | A Wolf Tale

TWO

T W O

-THE PRINCE-

My home was not truly my own.

Since my mother had left us ten years prior, we had gone to stay with my aunt at her estate in the countryside. It had quickly become my home, its many windows offering views of carefully trimmed gardens and orchards, even a pond. It had been a place of storybooks.

I felt a similar awe when we arrived in the courtyard of the castle. Though, it too, would never really be my home.

The massive sandstone structure jutted into the sky, practically sweeping through the clouds at its tallest tower. Bridges connected certain wings to the others, and roses grew in abundance at every corner. Gentle shades of topaz banners hung from windows and balconies high above, displaying the kingdom's crest. It was, though I loathed to admit it, truly beautiful.

"It's like I've been thrust into a dream!" Nadya chimed with a twirl, practically knocking over the poor footmen who now carried our things toward the palace.

"Careful, Nady," I warned. She shot me an aloof glance before bending to smell a particularly scarlet vine of flowers.

I stabled my breathing, attempting to simply be grateful that Nadya had not found herself in the same situation as I had been at the guard house. Her and my father were oblivious, merely remarking on the thin cut gracing my cheek. I'd tripped, I had lied. Father scolded me on my improper balance before we were back in the carriage, leaving the outpost behind, and Captain Rhode Forester.

Faint giggles flitted across the courtyard, echoing through the vast space. Deciding to focus my attention elsewhere, I found a group of young ladies gathered by a carriage, all of them conversing in hushed tones.

I suddenly felt insecure in my simple blue gown, cut only so that the very beginning of my cleavage was shown. It was one that my aunt had mended for me for the occasion of arriving at the Prince's Court. It was nothing so simple it did not belong at Court, but compared to the bright violet and ruby gowns of the others, it could have been called modest.

I had decided to turn away and focus back on my younger sister who had started to wander to the nearby fountain, when all at once the girls across the yard spun toward a columned archway around the side of the palace. Hushed words turned into outright squealing as a rather tall man strode through the courtyard directly past the ogling crowd, adorned in the colors of the Kingdom of Falah.

I watched as he veered past the fountain and directly for our carriage, where my Father was finally descending from. With each step the man took, the spadroon sheathed at his side swayed past his hip.

He had to be a guard, then.

Stopping just in front of my father, the man bowed at the waist. "My Lord," he said as he straightened. "I am pleased to see you made your journey well."

"Yes, we have," Father replied. "Now, where is Madam Brigida? My girls shouldn't be out in this infernal weather for so long."

The weather was hardly terrible. The rain had since ceased, and it was only the increase of cool in the air that made standing outdoors uncomfortable. The notion of Father caring about such a thing caused me to strain against a rising chuckle. I knew it was for appearances sake, but part of me wanted to revel in it: the possibility of him caring.

The man across from Father merely smiled gently, "Yes, of course. The Madam is inside making the final arrangements for the arrivals." Turning toward Nadya and me, he finished, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Taron Marrok, and I will be your personal guard for the duration of your stay."