The Wicked Werewolf Prince

5. The Royal Chessboard

[ELARA] 

 

Hours likely passed since I narrowly escaped being murdered by a water demon, but my fury refuses to settle. Magnus' harsh words keep coming back to me.

 

My maids insisted on changing me out of my soaked wedding gown. Initially rejecting their help, I soon realized how the wet fabric clung uncomfortably to my skin. Now, I find myself in a plain blue robe adorned with a silver border. The tent lacks the grandeur of the wedding ceremony—simple, unadorned, with dim lanterns casting a soft glow, creating an uncomplicated atmosphere. Seated on a basic bed, my thoughts are consumed by Magnus. He's not just a distant husband; he's orchestrating an elaborate game.

 

Caelondor has never been favored among the independent wolf packs. That changed when news of King Eldric seeking an alliance reached us. Witnessing the Alpha's desperation was a rarity, sparking confusion within our pack. How would an alliance with a distant kingdom benefit us? Our pack has never been weak. Despite the skepticism, Beta families lined up with their young daughters, hoping for a royal marriage. However, enthusiasm waned when they learned the bride would spend her life not with the king but with a deformed prince.

 

The gammas were next, eyeing an increase in status despite the prospect of dealing with a cruel man. Then, our Alpha vanished for a couple of days, returning with a demand: Alina must marry the prince.

 

The rest is history—a history punctuated by mockery.

 

Magnus barges into the tent without warning, his piercing golden eyes locking onto me. The maids, bowing promptly, exit without a word. Are they afraid of him? He's gained notoriety as a torturer. How much truth lies in that reputation?

 

Shifting on the bed, I remain silent. He regards me with an expression suggesting annoyance before demanding, "Come outside and eat."

 

Without waiting for a response, he vanishes behind the tent flaps as abruptly as he arrived. The graceful exit is a stark contrast to the limp he exhibited earlier.

 

Reflecting on the peculiar wedding stunt where Magnus portrayed himself as grotesque and malformed, a realization dawns on me. He's not merely indifferent; he's cunning. That bizarre appearance was a calculated move, intended to divert and deceive. Our marriage, something I should have grasped earlier, is and will always be more about political strategy than genuine emotions.

 

He knowingly allowed the planted image to fester in our minds and played along. To what end?

 

Was it just for a few moments of shock? An insult to the pack that our King wishes to form an alliance with? I sense there's more to it than meets the eye. And I'm determined to uncover just what that might be.

 

Upon reflection, Magnus emerges as a cold and calculated figure. The imposed isolation and the peculiar spectacle during the ceremony—all pieces of a concealed puzzle. I'm just a tool in his political maneuvering. The sense of betrayal is potent, yet I acknowledge the need to sharpen my wit in navigating this intricate situation.

 

What is his relationship like with the King? It seemed like King Eldric was oblivious to the stunt. Magnus was supposed to be...ugly. After months of believing that, now I'm confronted with the truth. He's normal. Just alright. Or is his usual appearance a facade?