Werewolves & Glass slippers

His English is better

*Gabriel*

“Your Highness.”

I look up to find my majordomo, Theoden, holding a salver. “I’ve got this unguentarium all in pieces, Theo. Speak quickly.”

“Unguentarium,” Theo says with distaste. “It sounds like a salacious item one might buy in Paris. The wrong side of Paris,” he adds.

“Spare me your quibbles,” I reply. “This particular jug was meant for the dead, not the living. It used to hold six small bones for playing knucklebones, and was found in a child’s grave.”

Theo bends nearer and peers at the pieces of clay scattered across my desk. “Where are the knucklebones?”

“The knuckleboned Biggitstiff threw them out. In fact, he threw this little jug out too, since the child was poor, and he is only interested in ravaging the tombs of kings. I’m trying to see whether I can identify how the top, which I don’t have, was attached. I think there were bronze rivets attached to both these pieces.” I point. “And the rivets were mended at least once before the unguentarium was put in the tomb, see?”

Theo looks at the pieces. “Needs mending again. Why are you bothering?”

“This child’s parents had nothing to give him to bring to the underworld but his knucklebones,” I say, picking up my magnifying glass. “Why shouldn’t that gift be honored equally with the trumpery gold Biggitstiff is after?”

“A message has arrived from Princess Tatiana’s delegation,” Theo says, apparently accepting my edict in regard to the knucklebones. “She is now in Belgium and will arrive on schedule. We’ve had some two hundred acceptances for your betrothal ball, among them your nephew, Algernon, Alpha Blanklake. In fact, the Alpha will arrive before the ball, by the sound of it.”

“Bringing the Golden Fleece?” My nephew, whom I vaguely remember as a boy with a fat bottom, has affianced himself to one of the richest heiresses in England.

“The Alpha will be accompanied by his betrothed, Miss Anastacia Cinders,” Theo says, glancing at his notes.

“It’s hard to believe that Blanklake could have garnered such a prize; perhaps she has a million freckles or a squint,” I say, carefully aligning the clay fragments so that I can determine where the rivets originated.

Theo shakes his head. “At her debut this spring, Miss Cinders was accounted one of the most beautiful she-wolves on the mating market.” We’ve been in England for a matter of months, but he already has a firm grasp on relevant gossip among the high packs. “Her adoration for her betrothed was also universally noted,” he adds.

“She hasn’t met me,” I say idly. “Maybe I should steal her away before my own bride arrives. An English Golden Fleece for a Russian one. My English is far better than my Russian.”

Theo doesn’t say a word, just slowly looks from my hair to my feet. I know what Theo is seeing: dark hair pulled back from a widow’s peak, eyebrows that come to points over my eyes in a way that frightens some she-wolves, the shadow of a beard that never seems to really go away. Something in my expression scares off the soft ones, the ones that think to cuddle and wrap my hair around their fingers after s*x.

“Of course, you could try,” Theo comments. “But I expect you’ll have your hands full trying to charm your own bride.”

Not his best insult, but pretty good.

“You make it sound as if Tatiana will run for the hills at the sight of me.” I know damn well that the glimmer of ferocity in my eyes frightens she-wolves who are more used to lapdogs. But for all that, I have yet to meet the she-wolf whose eyes don’t show a slight widening, a sparkle of happiness, at the prospect of meeting a prince. They like to have a prince under their belt.

Still, this is the first time I will be trying to charm a mate, rather than a lover. One has to assume that she-wolves take the business of marriage and eternal mates more seriously than they do the occasional bedding.

A curse sounds in my head but dies before reaching my lips. I turn back to the little pot before me. “Perhaps fortunately, my betrothed has no more choice in the matter than I do.”

Theo bows. He leaves as silently as he arrived.