Chapter 6 - The King of Wolfsreach

(Alicia)

“What did you say?” My voice is quiet. The kind of quiet that you’d be wise to pay attention to.

“I said you can’t ruin that dress with a slit. It needs to fully cover you!” she replies, a defiant look in her eyes. But she doesn’t tell me what I want to hear.

I turn to the human girl with the dressing pins. “Excuse me, dear. Would you mind giving us a moment of privacy?” I ask politely, and she nods and leaves the room.

I carefully step off the dais, a feat given the absurd tightness of this dress. Then I kind-of shuffle as best I can towards stick-insect Chiara, stopping a few feet away from her in a non-threatening gesture. Then my hand whips out at lightning speed, clutching around her throat. Her eyes pop wide behind the black-rimmed glasses.

“Who am I going to marry?” I ask in that same quiet tone of voice.

She squeaks, and I relax my grip enough for her to form words.

“The… The king of Wolfsreach,” she manages, and my mind whirrs into a frenzy.

What? What the actual…?

I notice confusion in her eyes and my grip slackens, letting her go.

“You didn’t know this?” she asks, and for the first time there’s a flicker of something akin to pity in her tone. But I ignore her, my mind racing to every why and who and wtf it can come up with. I need answers, sooner rather than later. And I know where to get them.

Focusing back into my surroundings, I see her looking at me funny. She is subtly trying not to rub her throat.

“Get me out of this dress, now!” I order, and she doesn’t argue or go all superior attitude on me this time. Instead, she calls back the dressing-pin girl and together they wrestle me out of the dress. Before we leave the room, I give the girl one last look and leave her with a request: “A slit, please. I won’t be able to move in that dress otherwise. Or we’ll have to consider something like a jumpsuit.”

I storm out with enough decorum to not have any human eyebrows lift, with Chiara tottering after me in her high heels. At the curb, as I flag down a taxi, she glares at me hands on hips.

“Two appointments tomorrow! 10am at the tanning salon and 11:30 at the flower boutique. Don’t be late!”

I glare back at her as I slip into the backseat of the taxi and deliberately roll my eyes just like the juvenile I feel like being right now. Then I slam the door closed and give the driver my full attention. “The closest tech shop please, wherever that may be. I need to buy a phone.”

He drops me off only two blocks away and charges me a fortune for the ride, but I dash into the doorway of the shop advertising the latest electronic gadgets and walk out ten minutes later with the latest smartphone. I fish the sim card from my pocket, install it into the new device and fire it up.

BEACH BAR. 30 MINS. DON’T BE LATE! I text my friend Darren and grab the next taxi I can find out to the harbour district. It takes Darren exactly two minutes to text back: THOUGHT U’LL NEVER ASK!

*********

Darren is already sitting at our favourite table, cocktails at the ready. I sink into the seat opposite him and drag the cocktail closer, drinking deeply as if I need the sustenance.

“Slow down darling! You’ll choke and then I’ll have your deadly daddy and an even deadlier werewolf on my case!” Darren drawls and wrestles the drink away from me. I narrow my eyes at him.

“The fact that you know there’s a werewolf involved in this farce makes me want to strangle you. How long have you known?” I demand, and Darren looks away, seemingly interested in the seagulls harassing someone on the beach. But I know that look. He’s guilty as charged.

“Uhm… a week or so, maybe?” he replies while squirming, looking everywhere but at me.

“And you never thought to warn me, maybe?” I mimic his tone sarcastically.

He sighs and sits up straight, a resigned look on his face.

“Well honey, it wasn’t really my beans to spill. Besides, everyone thought he’d send your sister. It’s only this morning that the news broke about it being you…”

“So everyone in the entire bloody kingdom knew about an upcoming arranged royal wedding between a werewolf king and an elven princess? How come I didn’t?!”

He gives me an exasperated look.

“Oh come on! You’ve had history at school, same as everyone else! Surely you must have been expecting it?”

I’m thrown by that one. “Why would I possibly have been expecting it?”

“Oh my goddess, Alicia! If you maybe took half an interest in our kingdom, you’d be more informed. It’s been 200 years! It’s time for the next bride swap, and… duh! There are only two princesses who are eligible for it.”

Wtf? Bride swap? I vaguely remember something about the 200-year bride swap being taught as part of our history lessons as I wrestle the Long Island Iced Tea back out of Darren’s clutches. He is looking at me like I’m a simpleton he needs to educate.

A memory flashes from the back of my mind, the kind you dredge up on quiz night. The 200-year bride swap. An archaic peace-keeping tradition where a royal from each of the five supernatural kingdoms is married off to another species for at least ten years, guaranteeing the treaties hold for the next 190. Rinse and repeat, every two centuries.

And here I am, caught straight in the middle of it, with the werewolves. Shit. Why did I have to get the year that we’re swapping with the animals?

I take another slug of the cocktail.

“He’s sending me because it’s the animals, isn’t it? If it was any other species Charmaine would have been the natural choice.” There is anger in my voice, the whole situation riling me up again.

Darren gives another dramatic sigh. “You’re not wrong honey. But drowning your sorrows are not going to help anyone. If you keep chucking that drink back, you’re either going to start getting happy and stir up another orgy, or no one in a five-mile radius is going to get laid in a week if you keep holding on to this anger.”

He makes knowing eyes at me, and I push the empty cocktail glass away. He’s right. As usual.