The ugly Luna

His father’s demand

*Fennec*

“You’ll have to marry her. I don’t care if you think of her as a sister: from now on, she’s the Golden Goddess to you.”

I open my mouth to say something, but a mixture of fury and disbelief chokes the words. So much for this is the time to be jolly.

My father turns and walks toward the far wall of the library, acting as if he’s said nothing particularly out of the ordinary. “We need her fortune to repair the Staffordshire pack house and pay a few debts, or we’re going to lose it all, this town house included.”

“What have you done?” I spit the words. A terrible feeling of dread spreads through my limbs.

My father pivots. “Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone!”

I take a deep breath before answering. One of my resolutions is to master my temper before turning twenty… and that birthday is a mere three weeks away. “Excuse me, Father,” I manage. “Exactly how did the estate come to be in such precarious straits? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I do mind your asking.” The Alpha prince stares back at me, his long, aquiline nose quivering with anger. I come by my temper naturally: I have inherited it directly from my irascible, reckless father.

“In that case, I will bid you good day,” I say, keeping my tone even.

“Not unless you’re going downstairs to make eyes at that girl. I turned down an offer for her hand this week from beta Briscott, who’s such a simpleton that I didn’t feel I need tell her mother. But you know damn well her father left the decision over who marries the girl to her mother…”

“I have no knowledge of the contents of Mr. Svane’s will,” I state. “And I fail to see why that particular provision should cause you such annoyance.”

“Because we need her damned fortune,” my father rages, walking to the fireplace and giving the unlit logs a kick. “You must convince Pollyanna that you’re in love with her, or her mother will never agree to the match. Just last week, Mrs. Svane inquired about a few of my investments in a manner that I did not appreciate. Doesn’t know a she-wolf’s place.”

I shake my head, “I will do nothing of the sort.”

“You will do exactly as I instruct you.”

“You’re instructing me to woo a young she-wolf whom I’ve been raised to treat as a sister.”

He growls angrily, “Hogwash! You may have rubbed noses a few times as children, but that shouldn’t stop you from sleeping with her.”

“I cannot.” I say, shaking my head.

For the first time, the Alpha prince looks a trifle sympathetic. “Pollyanna is no beauty. But all she-wolves are the same in the…”

“Do not say that,” I snap. “I am already appalled; I do not wish to be disgusted as well.”

My father’s eyes narrow and a rusty color rises in his cheeks, a certain sign of danger. Sure enough, his voice emerges as a bellow. “I don’t care if the chit is as ugly as sin, you’ll take her. And you’ll make her fall in love with you. Otherwise, you will have no country pack house to inherit. None!”

“What have you done?” I repeat through clenched teeth.

“Lost it,” my father shouts back, his eyes bulging a little. “Lost it, and that’s all you need to know!”

“I will not do it.” I stand up.

A china ornament flies past my shoulder and crashes against the wall. I barely flinch. By now I am inured to these violent fits of temper; I have grown up ducking everything from books to marble statues.

“You will, or I’ll bloody well disinherit you and name the Pinkler pup my heir!”

My hand drops, and I turn, on the verge of losing my temper, my wolf roaring in my head. While I’ve never had the impulse to throw objects at the wall… or at my family… my ability to fire cutting remarks is equally destructive. I take another deep breath. “While I would hesitate to instruct you on the legal system, Father, I can assure you that it is impossible to disinherit a legitimate son.”

“I’ll tell the House of alphas that you’re no child of mine,” the Alpha prince bellows. Veins bulge on his forehead, and his cheeks have ripened from red to purple. “I’ll tell ’em that your mother was a light-heeled wench and that I’ve discovered you’re nothing but a bastard.”

At the insult to my mother, my fragile control snaps altogether, and I only just manage to keep my wolf from taking control. “You may be a craven, dim-witted gamester, but you will not tar my mother with sorry excuses designed to cover up your own idiocy!”

“How dare you!” screams the Alpha prince. His whole face has assumed the color of a cockscomb.

“I say only what every person in this kingdom

knows,” I say, the words exploding from my mouth. “You’re an i***t. I have a good idea what happened to the pack house; I just wanted to see whether you had the balls to admit it. And you don’t. No surprise there. You mortgaged every piece of non-entailed land attached to the pack, at least those you didn’t sell outright… and pissed all the money away on the Exchange. You invested in one ridiculous scheme after another. The canal you built that wasn’t even a league from another canal? What in the Goddess’ name were you thinking?”

“I didn’t know that until it was too late! My associates deceived me. An Alpha prince doesn’t go out and inspect the place where a canal is supposed to be built. He has to trust others, and I’ve always had the devil’s own luck.”

I groan, “I would have at least visited the proposed canal before I sank thousands of pounds into a waterway with no hope of traffic.”

“You impudent pup! How dare you!” The Alpha prince’s hand tightens around a silver candlestick standing on the mantelpiece.

“Throw that, and I’ll leave you in this room to wallow in your own fear. You want me to marry a girl who thinks I’m her brother in order to get her fortune, so that you… you… can lose it? Do you know what they call you behind your back, Father? Surely you’ve heard it. The Damn Fool Alpha prince!”

We’re both breathing heavily, but he’s puffing like a bull, the purple stain on his cheeks vivid against his white neck cloth.

The Alpha prince’s fingers flex once again around the piece of silver.

“Throw that candlestick, and I’ll throw you across the room,” I say, adding, “my prince.”

My father’s hand falls to his side, and he turns his shoulder away, staring at the far wall. “And what if I lost it?” he mutters, belligerence underscoring his confession. “The fact is that I did lose it. I lost it all. The canal was one thing, but I thought the vineyards were a sure thing. How could I possibly guess that England is a breeding ground for black rot?”

“You imbecile!” I spit and turn on my heel to go.

“The Staffordshire pack house has been in our family for six generations. You must save it. Your mother would have been devastated to see the estate sold. And what of her grave… have you thought of that? The graveyard adjoins the chapel, you know.”

My heart is beating savagely in my throat. It takes me a moment to come up with a response that doesn't include curling my hands around my father's neck. "That is low, even from you," I say finally.

The Alpha prince pays no heed to my rejoinder. "Are you going to allow your mother's corpse to be sold?"

"I will consider wooing some other heiress," I say finally. "But I will not marry Poppy." Pollyanna Svane… known to me alone as Poppy… is my dearest friend, my childhood companion. "She deserves better than me, better than anyone from this benighted family."

There is silence behind me. A terrible, warped silence that... I turn. "You didn't. Even you... couldn't."