4

Before I can react, I smell something else, a soft, earthy scent that’s quite familiar to me. It’s buried under that rich aroma, and once my wolf recognizes it, it rumbles in approval.

Did Harriet bring the woman here?

I told her to—

No, I didn’t tell her what to do with the princess. She must have assumed I wanted her in my chambers. I ring the rope for the bell attached to Harriet’s quarters before closing the door behind me and searching the room for the woman. She’s not on the bed. She’s not on the chair…

I pause.

There’s a small figure curled up in front of the fire.

Frowning, I walk over and look down at her.

Her hair is spread out behind her—a beautiful, ebony black, with long, glistening strands fanning out from her head. The girl is curled into a tiny ball, and even after having cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes, she still looks gaunt. I saw Princess Vivian once at a gathering for royals and nobles. She was an exquisite creature, but her eyes made my skin crawl. Still, I would have recognized her as my fated mate the moment we met.

So, why now?

The woman moans in her sleep, curling herself up even tighter, and I feel a tinge of annoyance. If she had to lie down, she should have just lay down on the bed. Leaning over, I pick her up in my arms. I’m not surprised by how light she is. The princess weighs next to nothing.

I carry her over to the bed and slowly lower her onto it. I study her as she begins to shiver. The cold of the North must not suit her. She’ll have to get accustomed to it, though.

Her hair falls over her face when she moves in her sleep. Without thinking, I remove the strands from her cheek. My hand looks massive compared to those small features. I could crush her head in my fist.

The idea amuses me, but when she shivers again, I pull the blanket up over her body.

There’s a knock on the door, and I walk over to answer it.

It’s Harriet, her face pallid. “I have a message for you, Your Majesty.”

I glance at the sleeping woman and nudge my head to the side. “In the sitting room.”

She blinks in surprise. The sitting room has not been opened since my mother passed. It is cleaned by Harriet, but I’ve never gone in. She must have assumed it was for sentimental reasons. Maybe it was.

She follows me into the adjoining room and sits down on the sofa beside me.

“Rothan received a message from one of your men in the East. I was already coming to see you, so I said I would pass it on to you.” She hesitates. “He insisted he should come himself, but I could tell he was tired.”

A flicker of a smile plays on my lips. Harriet is Rothan’s mother. She still worries about him.

She hands me a folded piece of paper. I open the message and read the contents.

Deceased woman with the mark on her wrist found just outside the palace in a maid’s uniform. Badly disfigured. Jewels on her.

I press my lips together, crumpling the paper in my hand, my mood darkening.

I was right.

“What did you want to talk about, Harriet?” I turn my attention toward the woman who oversees the upkeep of this entire castle.

“The princess bears marks of abuse,” she says quietly. “There are scars on her back and other parts of her body that are concealed by clothing.”

“Scars?” I feel confused. “Wolf shifters rarely have scars.”

“Scars are possible if the wounds are constantly opened over and over again, or if the wound is too grievous. It can also be that she was not allowed to see a healer. I do not know the circumstances, Sire, but I did apply a healing balm. It did not work. Perhaps if we keep applying it repeatedly, it may.”

“What about her demeanor?”

She shakes her head. “Quiet, subdued. She’s very polite. I got your letter when you started your journey back, so when you arrived, I observed her closely. She doesn’t behave like royalty. One of the maids ran her an ice-cold bath to play a prank, and the girl didn’t make a sound.”

My wolf bristles in anger. “I want that maid fired.”

Harriet nods. “She also had a hard time keeping food down. If you intend to keep her alive, I want you to give her this.”

She holds out a small vial filled with a blue liquid.

“What is it?”

“An antidote. I—” She hesitates. “When I was working under your mother in the espionage team, I came across a poison in the East. It rots away the insides of a wolf shifter over a period of time, forcing the consumer to be unable to digest food. The girl’s symptoms are the same. I believe she was poisoned repeatedly.”

“I see.” My hand wraps around the bottle. “And you are sure this is the antidote?”

“I’ve seen it used. It is now produced in-house and has been tested.”

She stands to leave, but I stop her. “I plan to keep her, Harriet. She will be the queen.”

Harriet blinks slowly. “I see.”

“If what you say is true, then I cannot leave her in the hands of the other maids. I want you to be her maid. You’ll still maintain your duties as the head maid, but you are the only one I want by her side. I also want you to keep an eye on her. I don’t trust her.”

“I understand. And the mating ceremony?”

“It will be done quickly. Tomorrow. I have things to do, and I’m not going to waste time on some grand event.”

“Very well. I’ll have the chef make food that will be easy on her stomach. I’ll also have a healer come in and take a look at her after the ceremony.”

“He just needs to make sure she can bear heirs.”

Harriet glances at me. “And the queen’s involvement with the kingdom?”

I gesture with my hand. “Keep an eye on her. If she does anything suspicious, report to me. I’m just interested in her ability to produce the next king, nothing more. Let her amuse herself as she sees fit.”

Harriet exits the room, but I linger, looking around. This was my mother’s sitting area. It has been years since she and my father were assassinated by the rebels in the Eastern Kingdom. Despite the fact that Harriet cleans in here weekly, I can still smell that familiar scent of roses. My mother loved roses. Her sitting room was always adorned with them.

I get to my feet. There’s no point in lingering in the past. There’s nothing useful there anymore.

Tonight, I’ll sleep. And tomorrow, I’ll deal with the woman lying in my bed.

Because whoever that woman is, she is not Princess Vivian.