The Crown Thief and Her Alpha Prince

CHAPTER 5 - THE PRINCE

Amelia Cooper’s Point of View

“What?” Amelia blurted, feeling blood drain from her face.

The king, and more importantly his crown, was not at the castle. She had left her village, her friends, for nothing. She had walked for two weeks and braved the elements and brutes for nothing. She would not get her revenge. The sun felt even hotter, and Amelia feared her legs would give out.

“You look so dramatic,” Isabelle said, slightly concerned. “If you wish to see him, you’ll probably won’t have to wait that long. I am sure King Leopold will not miss the wedding of his elder son to the Princess Eleanor of Ivory. He just won’t stay for very long when he does come back.”

Amelia let out a slight sigh of relief. She had gotten herself worked up for nothing. It would make things more complicated for her, but stealing the crown would still be doable. 

Of course the king had not abandoned the castle forever. 

Clearly, the sun and the heat had gotten to her head. Standing outside in the garden, waiting for the judgement by Prince Edmund of if she was worthy to work at the palace, she was growing impatient. And hot. Very, very hot.

Her dress was clinging to her skin uncomfortably. It was too tight for her - she had had nothing decent to wear to the castle and had stolen it a few days before. It was simple enough. It could never compare to the dress the princess was sure to have, but it was proper enough for a future maid. 

Beggars could not be choosers, she knew. One did not exactly have time to try dresses on for size when stealing them in the dark of night. However, right now, Amelia would have given anything to be in something a little looser. 

It certainly had not bothered her last night in the cold woods, when the tight fit had caught her handsome stranger’s eye. She could feel her cheeks flaming at the mere thought of his brown, warm gaze exploring her body. She was not the most impressive woman. She was small, too frail because she never had enough to eat. However, that was clearly not what he saw. He had looked as if she was an angel, as if he had wanted to rip her dress from her body. 

Would she have let him?

“Hello! Are you still with us? Or are you in the arms of a certain king?”  Louise said, amused. “Your thoughts were a thousand miles from here. You were practically salivating thinking of the guy.”

Amelia could not suppress a snort. No, she certainly was not dreaming up about the king.

“You might want to reign in your thoughts a little when Edmund comes in,” added Isabelle. “Wolf shifters have a very strong sense of smell. When our emotions are too strong, they can smell them. They can detect fear, of course, as they are predators and their senses are there to help them find prey. But they can also sense other emotions as well. Anger, sadness, disgust, happiness… And most of all desire.”

Amelia blanched. She had one big takeaway from that. Shifters could smell anger. Edmund would be able to scent hers if she could not keep under control. She guessed that werewolves could probably only smell emotions when they were intense. 

However, Amelia was far from sure she could hide the inferno of fury burning inside her from him. How could she not feel anger at seeing the son of the man who had taken everything from her? She was already seething from being forced to wait in the burning sun while the prince took his sweet time to arrive, like making them wait was no problem at all.

He might not be able to tell why she was angry, but she doubted the prince would want to hire a small human burning with rage over unknown things. He would turn her around, and her revenge and her crown would slip out of her grip.

“Don’t worry, they smell their staff behind lovestruck all the time,” chirped Louise.  “Most humans have the hots for wolf shifters. They are just that much more handsome than most human men, so they can’t exactly blame us,” 

Louise laughed loudly at that. She had completely misunderstood Amelia’s fears. She continued rambling.

“Besides, it’s not like they can tell who you’re attracted to, just that you feel attraction. Prince Edmund knowing you have the hots for his father would be weird I admit, but he won’t actually know that. He’ll probably just assume that you find him hot. And everyone does think he is, so you won’t stick out.”

Louise had mistaken her fear, but her words gave Amelia an idea. If the prince was so arrogant that he was expecting everyone to desire him, that could play in her favor. She just had to mask her scent, hide her anger with lust.  

Amelia was sure she would never feel desire for a stuffy prince, who did nothing but sit all day bossing poor little maids around. But as Louise said, the prince would not be able to tell who she was actually attracted to, just that she was.

She just had to think about her meeting with the stranger last night.

Amelia was usually not one to indulge in such base, impure thoughts. But if it was a matter of being able to be at the castle… Then the end justifies the means, doesn't it?

Amelia’s thoughts drifted back to the stranger, to her stranger.

Her mind lingered on how well built he was, strong muscles. He really was something else. Amelia had grown up in a small, rural village. She was used to seeing fit men, strengthened from working long hours in the fields in the burning sun in order to pay their taxes and still be able to survive winter. But never had Amelia felt such attraction. It was not only that the stranger had been strong, but that everything about him had been perfectly proportioned, as if sculpted by an artist.

She still shivered thinking about how he had held her chin, forcing her to gaze into his eyes. And gods those eyes! They were so warm, a deep, velvety brown with intricate specks of bright golden. 

Could she ever see him again? Once she was done with her mission, once the king was dead and she was rich, maybe she could come back for him. 

And then what?

Amelia had no hope for romance or anything so foolish. Fairytales were not made for thieves like her. She was beyond redemption by now, and he was a wild man running around half-naked in the woods at midnight. He did not look the type to form long-lasting relationships with - nor was she. 

But once she had money, settling into a marriage would not be her only option anymore to be able to live a decent life. She would not have to protect her virtue for a potential man she would not love. Being an orphan, Amelia had nothing to offer in terms of dowry, her virtue the only thing she had going for her. Finding a good match was the only way for an orphan woman not to stay on the street.

Unless said orphan woman was filthy rich from having stolen from the royal castle. Then, she could do anything she wanted. 

Amelia could be free.

Free to find her stranger, and acknowledge the tension that had built between them that night. Heat was still flooding her thinking about it now. If his dilated pupils, his forwardness and the rough edge to his voice had been any indication, he had been as affected by their encounter as she had been.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Once she was rich, they could act on that desire - no strings attached. 

Amelia imagined finding him again, picturing showing him exactly what he wanted by kissing him. And then what? Would he take her hard and fast, holding her in his strong arms against a tree, not caring who could hear her screams of pleasure? Or would he be sweetened by her inexperience, and explore her body slowly, before finally plunging into her, giving both of them exactly what they needed? She was not sure which she would prefer... 

Amelia’s breath caught as she got enraptured in her fantasy. She was so lost in thought that she almost did not hear the door open behind her. 

Louise and Isabelle, who had been chatting animatedly, stopped talking and bowed, their head lowered, their eyes fixed on the grass at their feet. Amelia could hear Nestor the steward babbling, and someone else walking with him briskly with long, confident strides. Prince Edmund Harrow.  They were behind her so she did not see them, but she knew it was Nestor and the Prince.

This was the final test.

Amelia also bowed, banishing any thought of what the royal family did to her from her mind to avoid getting angry. She was curious to see the prince’s face, but knew looking directly into the eye of a royal member, of an Alpha prince, would be perceived as an act of defiance.  She would not risk her position just to satiate her curiosity. She could not refrain from a quick glance before lowering her gaze to the ground, carefully avoiding to look at his face. 

She did not see much, but enough to see that the nicest arse in all the realms comment from the young Louise was not far off the mark.

Amelia’s mask of desire to hide her anger would not be too easy to keep. That Edmund Harrow might be the son of an evil dictator and would probably follow in his father’s footsteps if he became king, but he sure was fine. 

“As you see, my liege, these are three fine candidates,” Nestor rambled, his voice betraying an edge of nervousness. “Louise and Isabelle Harvey have been working for more than ten years in the kitchens of the noble duke of Fairsea. And Amelia Cooper here has -”

“Do as you wish, Nestor. I do not care,” snapped the prince, cutting his servant.

From the direction of his voice, he was not even looking at them. The arrogant prick. That royal bastard needed to learn some manners.

Easy Amelia. Don’t let yourself be angry. Amelia took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions under control. 

“But your Majesty,” Nestor started again, “I would really like to bring to your attention the qualifications of those three - “

“What part of ‘I do not care’ was not clear to you Nestor?” Edmund roared. “I do not have time for such menial tasks. These girls could have been queens or prostitutes, it would not change a thing.”

As Nestor confounded himself in excuses, Amelia found herself puzzled. Edmund’s voice was oddly familiar, just like his eyes had been in the painting. How was it possible? She had never been near the castle grounds before, and she strongly doubted the royal family had ever visited her backwater village. 

She had never heard someone being such a massive prick before, that much was sure.

Amelia kept her eyes cast on the ground, even though she wanted nothing more than to look at the prince’s face - half to see if she could recognize him, half to see what such a pretentious, above-it-all man looked like. 

“Does that mean…” Nestor stuttered, sounding positively afraid of the prince. “Does that mean I have your permission to hire them all then?”

“What do you think it means, Nestor?” Edmund clipped. 

There was no doubt in Amelia’s mind now. She had heard that deep, masculine voice laced with anger before… But where?

 When Nestor was too afraid to answer Edmund’s rhetorical question, the prince let out a long sigh. 

“Ladies, welcome to your new life at the castle.” said Edmund, his voice dripping with boredom and sarcasm, as he turned towards them for the first time. “I hope joining our pack and family will make you very...”

He trailed off in what Amelia could tell was an uncharacteristic fashion for such a self-assured man. The silence grew uncomfortable. Where had she heard that voice? Amelia could not resist anymore, the mystery too much for her to bear.

She raised her gaze, only to find the warm, brown eyes of the prince looking directly and intensely at her.

Very, very familiar brown eyes. The exact same she had been thinking of all day.

Prince Edmund was the stranger who had rescued her.

The stranger to whom she had bragged she was going to steal the crown.

And from the look on his face, he had recognized her too.