The wolf prince of belfaire

2.The beautiful "PrinceTristane"

I climbed the stairs, each step an echo of the mistake I had just made. My thoughts did not focus on the wolf’s howl or the empty bed, but on the man. My mind reeled back to the first time I had seen him, only a few days ago.

The first time I met Prince Tristane of Belfaire, I looked into clear blue eyes that seemed so sweet, so gentle.

My mistake was profound. His eyes had deceived me. He had deceived me.

It was only a few days ago, but the memory was branded into my mind.

…

A Few Days Ago

The Royal Palace, Kingdom of Mari

The rumors painted Prince Tristane as a monster. Men avoided him, terrified of the whispers that followed him like a shadow. The stories claimed he was a giant, eight feet tall and built like a bear. They said he never smiled. That he was a ruthless, crafty man covered in the scars of a hundred wars, with fangs that threatened to rip through you when he spoke. I stood waiting to meet him for the first time, ready to confirm if the man was truly the beast of legend.

All the stories said he was more beast than man, yet I stood there in a gown designed to trap the eyes of any man, my hair coiled into an elegant knot. I waited with less anger and more curiosity to meet the monster my father expected me to marry.

My father, the King, had explained the necessity. This marriage to a stranger prince would forge an alliance between our rival kingdoms. It would keep our people safe from war for hundreds of years. As a royal princess, it was my duty to protect my kingdom. I understood this. It was the only reason I stood lost in my thoughts, waiting for our guest.

The King stood tall and glorious beside me, a regal figure despite the silver in his hair. My older brother, Arden, stood on our father’s other side. Unlike the King, Arden wore his armor, his sword sheathed at his hip, and his anger was a thundercloud on his face. He once told me the only man he truly hated was the Prince of Belfaire. He never explained his reasons, but his loathing for this arranged marriage was plain to see. He could not defy our father’s command. As Prince of Mari and a knight of the kingdom, he had a duty to obey his king.

My own thoughts strayed to the man who would be my husband. My eyes were hungry for his entrance. I wondered what color his eyes would be, what his voice would sound like, and if the wildest rumor was true—that he could turn into a wolf at will. It was why he ruled both the humans and the werewolves of his kingdom, as King and Alpha. He was a king, yet they only ever called him a prince. The more I thought about the strange man, the more I discovered a strange thrill coiling in my stomach. A dangerous curiosity about him.

My father’s hand on my back brought me back to reality. “This man will be your future husband, Raya,” he said, his voice calm and kind. “I know you find it hard to be nice to strangers, but please try. For the sake of peace.”

He knew the alliance depended on my acceptance. I was not ready for marriage, but for my father’s peace of mind, I would try. I gave him a small smile and a nod. We waited in the royal courtroom for the Wolf-Prince to arrive.

A single, long trumpet blast announced him. The large doors flew open, pulled by six guards. I heard the steady approach of footsteps. I looked up at the stranger who stepped through the doors, armed knights following in his wake.

In that moment, I was lost. Confused.

Speechless.

This was the beast I was to marry? This was the man from the wild stories? It could not be. My heartbeat slowed to a heavy thud, and a new, wild heat bloomed deep within me.

Beauty was too simple a word.

His features were a contradiction—sharp angles and elegant lines, a face that belonged on a statue of a forgotten god, not a mortal man. Long silver hair, a river of moonlight, brushed his shoulders. His silver armor seemed forged from starlight, fitting his powerful frame like a second skin. He was different from any man I had ever seen.

His gaze found my father’s the moment he entered and he held it as he walked toward us. He moved with a languid grace that belied the power coiled in his frame, a predator’s walk that suggested he cared for nothing in this world. I could not see his eyes, for his focus remained entirely on the King, as if my brother and I were nothing more than furniture.

He was a man on a mission. I tore my eyes from his face before my stare became too obvious. My gaze fell upon his armor. A wolf emblem was emblazoned on the breastplate, a proud symbol of his kingdom. His sword was strangely shaped, not the double-edged blade our knights used. He was no beast, but he was alien, set apart from everyone I had ever known.

As he drew closer, I looked at his face again and saw something in his eyes—a wild, fiery look at the edges of his vision.

If I had been more observant, more in tune with my intuition instead of my body’s sudden fascination, I would have known then. Something was profoundly wrong with Prince Tristane.