The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

“Of course I do,” Sheynne responds, “and that would result in tremendous casualties to all three countries, a disaster that no Derven would want on their conscious.”

Rick looks at both women, unsure exactly which he distrusts the most. Despite her intentions of protecting Rick from the Queen, the coolness of Mora’s voice coupled with the words coming from it make him start to doubt her love of him. Mora can sense his worry and though she wants to reach out to him and assure him of her unwavering love, she is forced to maintain her hostile stance until she can prove to Queen Sheynne that her heart beats true, which can only be done through her actions against King Irron.

Queen Sheynne finally breaks her stare with Mora. She carefully lifts the crown out of the box and leans toward her son. Rick stiffens, holding the open collar and key in his hands; he doesn’t make a move towards her or the crown. Though she no doubt notices his contempt for her, the Queen chooses to ignore it. She perches the twisted metal on his head, turning it slightly so as to lock it in his hair. He isn’t thrilled about it, but Mora’s heart skips at the sight of Rick in his Princely appearance.

“It is also necessary for you to appear to be the Prince, Varickan,” she says snidely towards him.

Mora has the feeling that they must be close and when the carriage pulls to a stop her hunch is confirmed. She turns her head to the small, stained glass window by her side. From the lack of trees, she knows they are now in the Meadow. The coachman opens the door; the Queen is the first to exit. When Mora shifts to follow, Sheynne’s sharp voice halts her movements, “I wish to speak to the Prince, privately if you don’t mind.”

Caught off guard, Mora freezes in place. Rick looks over at her briefly before he gets out. The door shuts between them and even though they whisper, she can hear every word.

“Is this really necessary, Queen Sheynne? Hasn’t Mora made her feelings clear? She isn’t going to leave Sceadu,” Rick’s voice sounds angry, but with a slightly skeptical tone.

“You are foolish to trust her, Varickan. She may be a pretty face but underneath she is still the same woman who agreed to marry King Irron in the first place. I am only allowing this meeting because King Irron would attack Sceadu if I didn’t.”

The Queen’s distrust of Mora is affirmed, though she can’t tell which the Queen dislikes more: Mora and Rick together or Mora and King Irron. Though it was the Queen’s decision to guide the two into falling in love, she wonders if Sheynne is regretting her choice. She obviously underestimated Mora’s stubbornness, which has now resulted in her holding more power than any one ruling entity on the island. No matter what side she chooses, she understands that war cannot be averted but she senses the Queen’s worry because Mora’s choice will be the difference between Sceadu being attacked or Sceadu doing the attacking.

Ricks voice, still angry, draws Mora back to their conversation, “He will attack us no matter what, your Majesty.”

“Yes, I am afraid I know that too,” Sheynne’s voice sounds mournful for a moment, before the harshness returns, “Our only hope that Derven will choose to fight with us is if she remains here when he does. As soon as this meeting is over, Princess Namora is to be recollared. Under no circumstances is she to leave Sceadu, am I clear?” When she gets no response, the Queen’s voice drops, “If she leaves, the punishment will be severe, even for a Prince. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” Rick spits out distastefully.

“You may let her out but she is to remain out of sight until we greet King Irron. We need to put distance between us and her, to emphasize-”

“The appearance that she is here of her own free will,” Rick cuts her off in a slightly mocking tone. The Queen, obviously angered by his attitude, walks from behind the carriage and towards the center of the field.

When the door opens, he extends his hand into the carriage to help her out. Eagerly she reaches for it but when his fingers wrap around hers and she climbs out of the coach, she instantly knows that the Queen’s words have succeeded in placing the seed of doubt. His hand does not grip hers tightly, nor do his fingers rub her skin; instead, he holds her hand carefully as if she were no more to him than a stranger.

She looks upon his face to see rage and dubiousness, feeling worry show on her own. When he lets go of her hand, her heart drops. She forces her fingers to form a fist to stop from shaking. Mora doesn’t know what to say to get him back. Tears well up in her eyes when he looks at her; her vision blurs when the tears threaten to fall but she feels his hands rest on her cheeks. He moves closer to her, touching his forehead on hers. Though he speaks with that tender tone, there is still a hint of suspicion in it, “Mora, I want you to know that I lov–”

She quickly closes the gap between them, stopping him short when she pushes her lips against his. The fact that he doesn’t entirely trust her saddens her but she knows that she deserves it because of the secrets she kept. His hands reach up to wipe her face dry only to cradle it after; he leans into her, deepening the kiss. She braces herself against his chest, making herself pull away from him. Mora looks into his eyes, trying to convey her feelings genuinely, “You can tell me tonight, when we are back in the tavern.”

He smiles softly at her, still holding her face. Finally recognizing the woman he fell in love with, the doubt vanishes from his eyes. He leans forward once more, planting a tiny peck on her lips, “Don’t come out until the time is right. If anything happens, I will be right there.” He kisses her once more before walking out to join his mother.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Now alone, the nervousness begins to take over her body. She opens and closes her hands into fists, pacing uneasily behind the carriage. Though it shields her view of anyone, she can hear a dozen or so horses in the field beyond. She recognizes the quiet grumblings of Eric and Dell. When she catches a strong whiff of metal, she knows that King Irron and his guards have arrived. She can hear their conversations carried by the wind.

“Queen Sheynne, thank you for arranging this meeting. It is good to see that you are… well,” King Irron’s arrogant voice is thick with fake politeness.

“Likewise, King Irron. Have you met my son, Prince Varickan?” Her voice is cold enough to cut glass.

“I do believe I have-briefly. How are you, Prince?” Though some would mistake real sincerity in his voice, Mora picks up on the sarcastic undertone.

“Lovely,” Rick tries to say nicely but it comes out as a growl.

“Good to hear,” Irron lies. “Now, where is my soon to be wife? I wish to speak to her…”

Mora inhales deeply; as her lungs fill with air, she forces her shoulders back and her chin up. She clasps her hands tightly in front of her and wraps her nerves with steel before she stoically walks from behind the carriage. She keeps her eyes still so as not to appear worried but takes in everything. King Irron stands about fifteen paces away from Sheynne and Rick; behind him are several guards, still mounted on their horses. They look alert, but mindless; their dark eyes make Mora feel uneasy. She sees Daniel, James, Sari and the three Wardens Eric, Dell and John, as well as a few others on top of their horses surrounding the backside of the Queen. The Meadow is large and they are closer to the public road than to Sceadu. She has suspicions that King Irron made sure of that.

She has almost completely forgotten the hue of her dress, but when her eyes fall on Irron she is reminded once more that she wears an unnatural color. At the sight of Mora, clad in red, Irron’s face has a truly shocked expression, “Oh, my love, that color is ravishing on you,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear and for the first time he actually means the words he speaks.

She stops in the space between Irron and Sheynne, perfectly dividing the two. Grabbing the middle of her skirt with her right hand she flourishes a beautiful curtsey to Irron, “King Irron, what a pleasure.” Though it is a lie, Mora makes a little more effort to be convincing than he does.

“There is no need to bow to me, Namora-soon we will be wed,” he purrs to her in a tone suggesting that they are more familiar with each other than is true.

She clenches her jaw and refrains from sneering with disgust. Her voice, overly sweet, replies “Oh, King Irron, don’t toy with me,” she rises, looking innocently at Irron, “You know my father has called off the wedding.”

“Yes, I had heard… but I thought perhaps your sentiments haven’t changed,” he steps closer to Mora. She can hear the Sceaduians behind her tense nervously; it takes all she has not to step back away from him. Holding as still as a sculpture, Mora stands her ground as he approaches her.

Irron slowly reaches out and takes her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kisses the back of it, his eyes searching her face, “Surely, my love, you realize that calling off this engagement will snap my heart in two.” His voice has a hint of threat in it.

The moment he touches her, her anger flares up so quickly she almost slaps him. Instead, she lets a smile grow on her face, letting him hold onto her. Just when he-and everyone else-thinks that she has changed her mind, Mora pulls back her hand, clasping them in front of her, “Snap in two, much like a burwood tree over a public road, I imagine.” Her voice comes out colder than even the Queen could muster. While there is almost a sigh of relief behind her, she is close enough to Irron to see the vein in his neck begin to pulse faster.