Little Red (Not Quite the Fairy Tale #5) (5 page)

“I’ll speak to her now, as long as she’s awake.”

The Queen was shaking her head, before delivering a blow that hit him harder than he would have thought it possible.
“They left before sunrise, dear.”  

Chapter Seven

Myths

“A white wolf, you said?”

“I tell you I’ve been ambushed by a pack of feral shape shifting wolves who killed all of your men and you’re focusing on that bit?”

On the other end of the phone, Aiden asked him to wait a minute and popped him on hold.
Unbelievable.

After listening to some bubbly pop song that made Aiden lose a few manly points, he was back on the line.

“Sorry, I had to check something. Cook did speak about white wolves, before... Chase, wolves take the shade of either of their parents and there are practically no white ones, these days; the genome has been overriden by dominant colors.”

“I’m quite certain of what I saw Aiden. She’s as white as chalk.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying that according to Cook, there’s only
one
kind of wolf who can be born white: the Vermeilles.”

Yeah. Because
that
made sense.

Aiden had woken up with a headache that was worsening every time he spoke to anyone.

“Could you please,
please
explain in very simple, straightforward terms? And who’s Cook, by the way?”

“My cook. His name is Rémond Francis d’Alisto, and he’s not gay. You can’t exactly blame him for going by Cook.”

Good point.

“And the Vermeilles are a very, very old family, dating right back to the Old Kingdom. If history holds any truth, they were the first wolves, descendent from Fenrir – a god. Vermeille means red – blood red – in the old Jereenan language. According to the legend, they ruled Jereena back in the days; that’s why our emblem is a wolf. They gave their blood to nobles who pleased them, sharing the gift of shape shifting. They were good rulers all around – then, of course, the last of their Kings was the black sheep of the linage. He despised and oppressed regular humans. They turned on him and chased him to the forest, along with every shifter out there. That’s common knowledge to any Jereenan kid – we learn it in class. But the Vermeilles were a myth, as far as I was concerned; at least, until Cook told me he knew two.”

“You’re saying the wolves are Jereenan nobles?”

Chase had already accepted that nothing made sense in the world, but it was getting worse and worse.

“Yeah – and if you think about it from their perspective, I guess I get it. It’s their land – the deeds they hold would probably supersede any proof of ownership my family and I can come up with. We usurped their place. Father and I wish we’d known that. A discussion might have gone a long way.”

As a Prince himself, Chase could put himself in Aiden’s shoes and he didn’t envy him.

Royalty was a duty, a blessing, but first of all, it was a birthright. The most deserving person on Gaia could achieve everything under the moon – it still wouldn’t make him a King. The one thing that mattered was the blood in their veins. It was stupid and unfair, thinking of it, but it was a reality they were proud of. Their ancestors had all meant something.

The Hunters had been given their lands after service rendered to the Eastlian crown. Over the course of the following centuries, they bought more territory around their principality, until it was large and important enough to appeal for its independency. Chase knew his place was most definitely
his
. He could only imagine what was passing through Aiden’s mind.

“You know it doesn’t matter, right?” he asked. “Most kingdoms of Europa have changed hands at one point or another – we’ve all fought against each other and redefined our borders. There’s been at least a handful of civil wars everywhere.”

“Perhaps, but how many royals are banished to their own forest?” he replied, quite innocently as neither Aiden nor Chase knew of the Woodlandian Princess who’d survived in hers for over a year. 

“I’d like to speak to her. We could come to an arrangement. Money, land – if there’s something I can do, I will.”

Chase was surprised as his own fervent aversion to that prospect. Providing things for Lana was
his
place.

Rather than attempting to enunciate his inexplicable feeling on the matter, he replied: “I’ll pass the message along, if I ever see her again.”

His words were tart on his tongue. 

Then, because they were friends, he had to say: “Aiden, you know the song we’re submitted to while being on hold happens to be Pretty Pinup, right?”

Understandably, the King was silent for an entire minute.

Then: “Pardon me, it seems I need to go spank my wife.”

When she’d imagined leaving the pack before, it had been by herself, or with her mum and Jaya in tow. The plan had been staying in Jereena and blending in; now, it was out of the question.

If they had been twenty, they could have gone anywhere. Considering the fact that there were two hundred and seven Wilderling under her care, she had to think things through.

Lana considered her options very seriously before writing her missive, and charging Tarik with delivering it in person to one particular couple in Europa, who might be able to help them. She expected to hear from them in a month or two – if ever. She drafted a few other plans, but none of them included staying together, satisfying their need to shift at will, and their urge to run. If the couple rejected them, they’d have to sacrifice something.

Going separate ways was out of the question. Their pack might be new, and rather small, but the link was firmly implanted in her protective instinct – all of them were hers to care for, as long as they wished to be. So, that meant they’d have to move to a place where they’d need to hide their nature. Others were doing it, so she knew they
could,
although that prospect broke her heart.

On the positive side, her packmates were as settled as they could be in a place that was only a pit stop.

The Royal Bank had purchased another bag of gold – a larger one, this time – and she had enough funds to take care of her people.

Her people.
She still couldn’t get over that.

Lana chose to rent a countryside castle on a six month lease. It wasn’t far from Crystalia and it had turned out to be much cheaper and simpler than trying to secure five dozens of houses in the same area.

At first, most amongst the pack were confused, unsure of what they were supposed to do. They’d all had jobs back in their old homes, and they’d received an allowance of food and gold for their contributions.

They had plenty of money now; some of the other enforcers had had as much gold as Lana, others, less, but enough to buy themselves a comfortable future regardless. They’d only brought what they could carry on their back with them, leaving most of their possessions behind, but it had been plenty.

Strangely, the only person who was without personal resources was the richest woman in the pack: her mother.

Mary had inherited a collection of fist-size stones carefully set on delicate filigrees of platinum and gold, diadems, rings and bracelets so old they belonged in a museum. That’s what she’d chosen to carry, along with a handful of things Lana valued. None of it would get sold.

“It’s your legacy,” Mary had told her a long, long time ago.

Lana wasn’t sure what it meant. She knew she’d had to be called Vermeille, like her mother, rather than adopting her father’s name, but frankly, she wasn’t overly curious about a bunch of dead people who’d liked shinny stuff. Her name meant nothing; well, except that a silly fay had insisted that red was somehow her color, because of it.

Considering that most of them were millionaire, they didn’t
need
chores, but without them, they were close to death by boredom.

“Let me help,” she heard Jaya beg the cook, when she passed by the kitchen “I’ll just prep some vegetables for you, that’s all.”

“No! We’re the help, you’re a guest. Go away.”

Everywhere, from the gardens to the bedrooms, similar arguments were breaking on a regular basis. Lana hadn’t had the inclination to dismiss the servants who’d worked for the castle; that meant that there was no chore left for her people.

“It’s only temporary,” she ensured them at dinner the first night. “When we move, things will be different… but it’s time to choose what you
want
to do. Jaya, if you want to carry on cooking, perhaps you’d like to study with a chef?”

No one had said much at first, but gradually, the confessions came.

Vera, who had the voice of an angle, wanted to take singing lessons. Ryss loved math, and wondered if he could possibly become an accountant, with the right training. Jaya turned out to be a closet artist – there were hundreds of different professions they wished to try out; a lot of things that they could never have pursued confined to the old pack territory.

There was only one problem really: their wolves.

They were on edge, not only because they couldn’t shift at will everywhere, but also because they didn’t have a home.

Their animals were territorial by nature, they needed to
own
their land, and do whatever they wished to there. Renting an estate wasn’t cutting it. Lana felt even more uncomfortable than the others; she hadn’t shared Chase Hunter’s opinion, so she alone knew that they weren’t welcome in the kingdom.

She hadn’t lied to reassure them: their stay
was
only temporary. If plan A didn’t fall into place by the end of the month, they’d prepared for plan B: travelling around Europa until she found a place they could call theirs.

Five days after sending Tarik, probably just after he’d made it to the other side of the continent, right at the tip of Europa, plan A appeared before her eyes as she walked down the main street of Crystalia.

Lana’s sense of smell always alerted her of those around her, but there was no warning this time; they materialized out of thin air, around a bit of cold foggy mist, just to make their entrance that little bit more dramatic.

The couple was stunning beyond belief; her, willowy and exotic, with a darker complexion set off against the bluest of eyes, and him, as big as your average dominant Wilderling, and taller than most. Taking in the pointed ears under his dark hair, Lana could confirm that she was indubitably standing before Eira, the Snow Queen and Kai, the elven King.

Chapter Eight

Escape route

Her eyes widened in surprise.
Holy shit.
It was only then that she fully acknowledged that she really hadn’t really counted on plan A working out. Why would two prominent monarchs – not to mention, deities – bother with her?

But here they were.

“You must be Lana Vermeille,” the goddess guessed with a little bow.

It hit here that she was probably supposed to curtsy or something. As she had no clue how to do that, she popped her hand up to her forehead and saluted.

“Hi. I kinda wasn’t expecting you…” she could have said
ever,
instead she cleared her throat, leaving it at that.

“What, you assumed
I
would not wish to respond to a non-human minority seeking a homeland?”

The elf was smiling indulgently; if the stories were true, he’d spent
hundreds
of years trying his best to care of his people by himself – which kind of was why Lana had thought of them, first.

“Is there a coffee shop, somewhere?” Eira asked, “I want hot chocolate. We can talk there.”

“We’re in May, wife,” Kai replied, shaking his head. “And it’s not even remotely cold here.”

“
I want hot chocolate,
Kai Eldorian. You
will
provide it for me.”

Strangely, the man didn’t shiver and cry, despite the fact that the goddess’s voice had made the earth tremble under their feet and that the arm she had been touching was quite suddenly covered by a thick layer of ice. He just sighed and mouthed a silent “she’s pregnant” with an apologetic look.

Lana took a cautionary step back.

“Come, dearest witch. We’ll get you chocolate. Lana, if you’d lead the way.”

There were plenty of coffee shops in the center of Crystalia, but instead, Lana led them to Tarina’s.

Eira’s gaze took it all in when they entered the shop, and she started to cry.

Oh hell. 

“There, there, darling,” her husband breathed, gently stroking her back.

“This is the nicest place in the world. I want one in Skadia, Kai.”

“Of course you can have one.”

The man was very wise.

While Tarina’s was a chocolatier, by trade, they also made cakes, cookies, and pretty much anything as long as it could be stuffed with chocolate. Half of the shop had been cleared to leave room for tables around which people drank the most deliciously thick and decadent hot choc’ in the world.

Customers could look at the displays of goodies and point out which chocolate they wanted to melt and blend in their drinks; the products were ridiculously expensive, and well and truly worth it.

Skadia
should
have one of those shops, especially if the discussion went well and Lana was allowed to move there with her pack.

They’d just sat down, after ordering the biggest bowls of deliciousness available, with a side of buttery pasties, when Lana stiffened; her smell hadn’t betrayed her, this time: she identified Chase just before he entered the shop.

Oh, great. She dropped her head, and pulled her hood up, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, but well, the damn thing was kinda bold red, and she was right in his line of sight, so he saw her about three seconds after walking in.

Brilliant. Just what she needed.

She forced a smile she hoped could pass for amicable, praying that he’d do the same and move on.

No such luck. He walked right to her.

“Lana. I was hoping to catch you last week, before…”

He took in her company, seeming confused at first. Then, his eyes darkened.

“Kai and Eira of Skadia,” he said, sounding rather cold.

The goddess was undeterred, fully immersed in her drink, but the elf answered the glare directed to him with one of his own.

“And you would be?”

“Chase Hunter. Prince of this kingdom. I haven’t been informed of your arrival.”

“That would be because our visit was unplanned, and will be quite short, by all estimation,” he replied just as frostily. “Besides, I didn’t realize we might
need
to inform your authorities of our presence. The contract your Queen has signed stated no such thing.”

Chase must have realized he was being quite rude; he moved the corners of his mouth upwards, shaping it into something that could have passed for a smile, a grimace or the imitation of a chimpanzee. In any case, it was scary.

“Of course, pardon my surprise. There’s no need to announce yourself. You’re welcome in Enom. Brief as your visit might be, I hope you would consider stopping by the palace; I do know my grandmother has been fascinated by your history since we heard of it.” 

This was politically correct Chase; he said just the right things. If they’d been on speaking terms,  Lana would have suggested acting lessons: diplomacy might be easier if he managed to conceal his desire to rip a foreign dignitary’s head off.

“I’d like to talk, Lana, if you would.”

Oh hell. She couldn’t very well say
never in a million years
and seem like a reasonable person in front of those who might soon become her sovereigns.

“Of course. I’ll get my secretary to schedule an appointment.”

She smirked as his lips pressed in a thin line.

“It won’t take long. If your highnesses would excuse us.”

On this note, like an absolute heathen, he just grabbed her arm and pulled her up on her feet, before dragging her out of the building.

Don’t act like a lunatic around the Eldorian
being her motto right now, she didn’t say anything until the door of the chocolatier had been closed. Then, she drew her hand back and yelled: “Have you lost your damn mind!”

She was shout at the Prince of Enom in the middle of the street of Crystalia, which meant that there were already twenty people filming the whole interaction with their phones, but some things were worthy of a little bit of drama.

“You’ve asked to leave for the north,” he stated, with something like an accusation in his voice.

For a little while, she stared, completely dumbstruck – then she had to nod and reply a slow “Yeeees?” that did imply
duh, idiot, of course I have
as much as
yes, and what’s your point?

He didn’t get the two underlying connotations, because he was asking: “Why?”

Back when she’d drooled over his yummy, broad shoulders, she’d been too taken by his appearance to consider that he might possibly not have been as blessed in the brains department. A shame, really but oh well, no one’s perfect.

“Because we need a home – Skadia is ideal.”

“You should stay here,” he replied firmly. “This is
your
country.”

Or maybe he’d hurt his head – he could very well be suffering from a concussion right this minute.

“As I mentioned before, we don’t have a country. This kinda is our problem here.”

“Stay here.”

She couldn’t place the tone, but it was firm, yet too low and soft to sound quite like an order.

“I’ll get the admin to work on creating the necessary documents. No condition, no string attached. We’ll make you citizens of Enom and if you need any help setting up…”

“We have plenty of money,” she replied, none too fond of the suggestion that they might want to take charity.

He shrugged indifferently, before carrying on: “You’re from around here; our woods are familiar to you. The climate is kinder, too. Stay, please.”

This time, he was actually asking, which puzzled her. Why did he care?

She chewed up her lip like crazy, and finally came up with the only thing she could say: “I don’t know.”

She wasn’t certain she could trust his intentions – while there was no doubt – none whatsoever – that she could take anything the gods of Skadia said for face value.

Chase sighed.

“I guess I’ll take that, for now. Just think about it.”

“I will. I’ll listen to what the Skadian have to say, and I’ll mention it to my pack, along with your offer.”

That sounded reasonable, right? She wanted to pat her back for her show of maturity.

“Ok. You have a phone?”

She nodded, and he wrote down the number she recited.

“Send me any question, and let me know your decision. You can pop by to discuss it anytime, if you’d like. I live three doors down, in that big white eyesore with a dozen flags,” he said self-depreciatively.

“I would never have guessed.”

She had to laugh, mollified now the complete asshole who’d insulted her and her people a few days ago seemed to have disappeared. But she wasn’t likely to push his previous behavior under the rug, however cute he was when he smiled down at her like that.

Her decisions weren’t just affecting her, now: she had two hundred and seven wolves to think of. She’d do right by them.

Regardless of the fact that her slutty little wolf wanted to rub against him and lick him clean.