"It is time to award Princess Devon and her men for their fine work, Your Majesty," Sheriva reminded the king during a lull in the conversation—or at least during a pause in Marcus' monolog as he drank his wine, frustratingly drawing out some finer point of orc killing. Orcs were manlike beasts with green skins, fangs, sharp teeth, large pointed ears, and a taste for human flesh. Many years ago, they threatened humanity and the fae, but they were nothing more than a nuisance in recent times.
"I do not believe a word he says," Danya complained.
"And yet the orc's bright-red heart stone reflects the light in the monogrammed pinky ring he wears," she pointed out.
"So?"
"An orc's heart stone only remains luminescent on the finger of the one who slew it. When someone else puts it on, it turns black. According to legend, the stone offers protection to its owner and curses anyone else who wears it."
"He's still a horse's ass." Danya was unimpressed.
"Come, daughter, let us reward you for your bravery," her father announced.
"But I am not done telling my tale yet, Majesty. Can the ceremony not wait a few more minutes?" Prince Marcus dared interrupt, and she expected her father to ignore him like any other man.
"Sure," the king obliged. "What difference would it make?"
"What?" Danya spat the word out as if it tasted terrible. "It makes a difference to us!"
"Despite everything, we won Father's approval and attention for a fleeting moment, and it didn't even last past the day's end."
The admission carried more bitterness than Devon expected.
Would I spend the rest of my days trying to find ways to make Father see me, only to be surpassed by the next shiny thing that comes along? she wondered.
She shifted her weight, wishing to sit and rest her weary body, but since the men stood to listen to Marcus' "entrancing" tales, it forced her to do the same.
It was midnight before her father pulled himself away from the prince and his companions.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please give me your attention. Tonight, I award my daughter the Creed Medal of Honor for her role in exposing the plot against our kingdom," her father proclaimed, sounding happier than she had ever heard him, but it wasn't because of her achievement.
He enjoys Marcus' company and already treats him like a best friend.
She curtsied before her king, and he attached the medal to the less stiff material near her shoulder.
"Arise, daughter," he invited. "Now award each of your contingent the Creed Medal of Bravery."
She stared at him in confusion since he usually awarded the medals.
"Why does my victory now feel so hollow?"
"Because some guests have left long since, and we feel like an afterthought at our own party. The way Marcus glances at us when Father isn't looking says he manipulated the situation on purpose." Danya pouted.
"Whenever I speak, he finds a way to cut me short. Whenever Father draws attention to me, the prince highjacks it adroitly, and Father doesn't notice." Devon glanced at the glittering array of more-than-slightly inebriated guests.
"What witchcraft is this?" Danya muttered.
Devon wondered the same thing as she noticed her hand again reaching for the sweetmeats under the wolf's guidance.
YOU ARE READING
Wolfborn: Origins (Excerpt)
Werewolf(Availabel on Amazon) Devon Elizabeth Creed's favorite book of fairy tales allowed her to see the world as enchanting and magical., but as she is forced to watch it burn, she learns that despite being a princess, reality is nowhere near as dazzling...
