THE FEUD #1

CHAPTER 7

NOVENA

I walk beside Emmaline in a deep V-neck, long-sleeved jumpsuit with its vertical black and white colours. My shoulder length hair is arranged delicately above my head, making my slender neck appear longer. Emmaline went with a three-piece suede suit which comes with a tube top, duster coat and high waisted pants, while her hair falls down her back and is pinned off her face. The dinner was taking place in our brightly lit, open-feeling dining venue. Glass doors run the length of three walls and are folded back to leave the room open to the forest that grows beside half of the palace. It's only a few steps off the stone floor of the venue, creating a feeling of dining in the forest. It's a favourite of my fathers. On arrival I notice the excessive number of guards in the area. I hold my breath as we enter; everyone is already present when we walk in. They stand in unison as we find our seats but remain standing as we wait for introductions. I can’t help myself as my eyes immediately find Pallas watching us. There is no mistaking him, he is simply beautiful; and I find myself thinking that the pictures from Foreign Muse just don’t do him justice.

My father’s voice blares out as he introduces us, “Prince Pallas Regius, cousin and ambassador to the Throne of North Continere.” My father turns slightly to Pallas, who stands in his all-black suit complimenting his tall lean build and setting off his dark silver eyes. “Prince Pallas Regius, this is Princess Novena Mace, daughter to the Throne of South Continere and equal heir to the Throne,” Pallas inclines his head slightly, a curious smile playing on his lips, “And this is Miss Emmaline Divinus, my daughter’s companion and a long-time valued guest to the Palace.”

There are introductions made to a woman beside him and two other gentlemen of whose social standing is that of Legatus, a subsection of Alphas. They are introduced as his advisors and protectors. I shudder to think what they are capable of if he only needs three while we have almost every guard on standby. I cringe at the thought of my father’s display of power yet at the same time it makes us look defenceless. We are all seated after the King takes his seat at the head of the twenty-four piece dark wooden table with black upholstered chairs. The Werewolves follow, a custom of ours that I am pleased to see them follow.

“I am excessively pleasured to meet you both, Princess Novena and Miss Emmaline, though your names and faces precede you, I’ve heard much about you.” Pallas speaks before I do, with wide slightly curved down lips and a voice as smooth as melted chocolate. It is a kind of smile that makes you want to be the cause of.

“Damn.” I barely hear Emmaline mutter as she stares out the corner of her eye at him, worried that she will by accident meet his gaze.

“We likewise are pleased to meet you,” I force my lips to smile back at him, meeting his gaze, my features compose of polite tolerance, “And so too does your reputation precede you, Prince Pallas, as its well-known that the media often leave very little for others to discover, but never anything of value or really worthy of remembrance.”

Pallas smiles inclining his head; seeming to catch what I am hinting at - the media only seeks the scandals and rumours, very seldom the truth which is mostly true for me.

Pallas diverts his attention, “That’s an interesting surname Miss Emmaline; I must confess I’ve only heard it once, is it common?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Emmaline, who is now suddenly in the spotlight, answers nervously.

She averts her eyes as she was told, unsure of how to speak to someone without looking at them as most people expect you to do. That is unless you are a Werewolf of course.

“I see, and are you from here?”

Emmaline shifts uncomfortably, lifting her eyes to slightly lower than his face, “I was born and raised in Benerdale, mostly in the walls of this Palace.”

“You seem uneasy; forgive me, my manners seem to have lacked momentarily.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your manners Prince Pallas, but rather that I am unaccustomed to speaking to someone that I am not allowed to look at directly.”

Pallas makes a curious face but says nothing else, his dark silver eyes inspecting her closely, as he leans casually back into the chair. His posture speaks volumes for his self-confidence, and no doubt, accompanying arrogance. My father begins to speak, drawing attention and I use the distraction to sneak sideways glances at him across the table. I feel like I was prepared for this, I mean I had known he is pretty - beautiful for a man, but seeing him in person, I am dumb-folded and all I want is to stare at him forever. I focus closer, trying to remember what I’ve read about him. The last born Regius’s, young brother to Princess Selene, cousin to the future King, but all I seem to focus on is his golden face and long full eyelashes. My cheeks heat, I feel embarrassed by my current thoughts. Maybe they are magical and blessed themselves with extremely good looks? I’m drawn out of my musing as we are served an array of seafood dishes and breads. Once the conversation settles down as the room fills their plates, I grab the opportunity to speak.

“Prince Pallas,” I smile as I bring his attention to me, “Like yourself, I was informed of your cultural differences in regard to interaction and I find myself with many questions. Would you care to answer a few? If you do not find them too prying, of course.”

“I would be interested in hearing what you would like to know, you may ask.”

I cast large green eyes at my father for approval, who nods his head. I waste no time beating around the bush, “Our history books refer to your species as Werewolves, which you, yourself, used. Is this still the case?”

“Yes, we refer to ourselves as Werewolves.” He answers, and I think of asking him why they would keep the name since it’s a Human given name, but thinking better of it I ask a different question.

“How do you tell the different social standing between individuals?”

“Interesting that you should ask.” He grins, “Our species do not transform into our wolves until we are at a certain maturity age. At such an age, our personalities and social standings are confirmed by the colour of the wolf’s fur. Omegas are brown coated wolves; they are a commonly born group of werewolves. The Beta’s are grey wolves, known as the warrior race. Then we have the Alpha’s, which has many subcategories. The most common are Alphas with black coats. They are the ones most likely to be leaders of their own territories and when necessary, advisers, generals and whatever else we need them to be.”

My father has advisers too. Usually, its family members who would have held important positions in parliament as leaders and duke’s or taking over the many family enterprises linked to the crown, paying for the support being tied to the family gave them. But my brother and I are the first siblings for six generations and the family tree has become diluted, with extremely distant relatives.

Pallas continues, “The white-coated wolves which also fall under Alphas are mainly born in our family with the addition of our silver eyes and are called Regius. Although, there is another type of white wolf. These wolves are called Niveus – born outside the Regius’s or past the gene line. Meaning that they have lost or don’t have silver or white hair in human form anymore but instead display blonde hair. Usually, they have distant ties to the royal family.”

“And what of the other wolves in human form?” like he is now, along with his personal companions.

“Our hair will reflect our standing – all wolves are born with brown hair, except the royal family, and that changes when they first transform.” He says, his wavy white hair curling around his ears. I look to the wolves next to him. All three have black hair. He clears his throat, “Niveus’s are the only ones who don’t reflect their colouring, they don’t have silver hair like the Regius’s, but rather blonde hair.”

“If I may,” Emmaline hesitantly speaks, directing her voice at Pallas. I grind my teeth when Pallas nods for her to continue, “You said that Alphas are leaders, what if their mate is of a lower social standing? Then they cannot be leaders too?”

“How can someone be a leader if by natural they are not?” Pallas smiles as he asks Emmaline in return. Emmaline pauses her inquiries on that thought. I find myself thinking the question over; it would certainly make the situation an unpleasant one as I imagine how the dynamics in Werewolf society would work. I couldn’t imagine not being allowed to look at my husband, if that rule still applied.

“If I am to understand you correctly,” my father says, “I would make the example that if you were to become mated, your mate would not hold the social standing that you have?”

“It’s complicated but yes. However, no individual would dare disrespect the mate of an Alpha, unless they wish to die.”

Finalising on that cherry note, we all go back to dining. When the conversation picks up again, it is about the horses that we keep at the palace that the Alpha woman, Willow, has seen. She says they are different from the ones in North Continere and she seems fascinated as she listens to my father speaking of the varied breeds we have and the fine stallions we’ve managed to breed.

“What do you use all these animals for?” she asks politely which is followed by confusion as all the Werewolves wait to hear.

“You don’t make use of horses?” I speak first; that’s certainly a strange thought to a Human. Although, it would make sense being wolves and all. What would they use horses for?

Picking up on the sudden hesitation of the room, Willow warily looks around the room, careful making no eye contact with anyone in my family. I notice her two fingers touch Pallas forearm and I wonder why she would be allowed to touch him. He doesn’t shrug her touch away or snap at her like I was led to believe would be a Werewolves reaction to another’s uninvited touch. Instead, his head tilts ever so slightly towards her, like he is acknowledging it.

“No, of what use could they be?” she asks, “Sure your horses look better and have such colourful coats, but you can’t honestly be keeping them for show only?”

“We ride them.” Emmaline says, looking directly at Willow. I see Willow tense as Emmaline continues to meet her gaze then seeming to decide that she would accept Emmaline as the same social standing continues her topic of the horses.

“That is very interesting. I would most certainly like to see that.” Willow muses at the thought of someone actually on the back of one of those magnificent beasts.

Considering the question justified, I speak my mind, “Do you keep livestock? Or companion animals?”

“The animals are wild. We have hunters in every pack whose sole job is to find fresh meat. However, some packs keep wolves within their territories.”

More wine and treats are brought forward, and the conversations carry on in a light tone. I follow ideally as I wonder what kind of society they have. I know I’ve seen grand building and I know that the Regius’s live in a palace but as the wolves share more, I find myself thinking them to have a more rural kind of lifestyle. A pack lives on what their hunters and gatherers can provide, while others have some more similar jobs to us humans like plumbers and builders, but the pack all get their food from the ‘Manor house’ which is controlled by the Alpha. If more than one pack lives within a territory, they reside under a single Great Alpha that provides protection in return for payment. I listen as Ragnar explains our way of living. It seems so much more complicated than that of the Werewolves. When the dinner finally reaches an end, Emmaline and I are the first to leave. We spend another hour speaking about what we have learnt before calling it a night.