2. Anca

CHAPTER 2

Anca

Moldavia, July 17, 1791

My ancestral home resides at the top of one of the most treacherous mountains in the Moldivian range. Winding narrow cliffside roads are the only way to ascend the mountain to my castle. At the very peak, my family's castle sits. Tall, proud, white spires reach towards the heavens, getting lost within the cloud cover. The main gates are hand-forged wrought iron depicting a pair of wolves locked in battle. The roadway leading up to the castle doors are made of cobble stone; the clacking of the horses hooves can be heard where I sit. I seek refuge within the castle's library. So many centuries of knowledge are contained within these walls. The shelves are a myriad of colors on every subject you could imagine.

I'm stuck sitting here looking over the scrolls of the families whom have sons of proper age that make a good mate for me. The list feels never ending as I sort though the bloodlines, making sure no one is related to me. It's such tedious work, and my father wants a list of suitors I'm willing to meet. Gently I shake my head, looking over what seems like a mile-long list. Out of all the females of my family, I am the oldest to ascend. None of the healers know why it took over a hundred and fifty years for it to happen. All of the mystics my family consulted had no answers as to why. I honestly don't care; I don't want to face the trials to select my mates. Whatever happened to falling in love naturally? instead of being forcibly brought together and hoping they click. I furrow my brows as I ponder my soon to be sealed fate. Today, hopefully, will pass quickly and without incident.

The click of the latch for the door echoes in the library, forcing my eyes to raise and watch to see who has come to disturb me. The high priestess of the clan enters without knocking, carrying a jug and cups.

"Have you made a decision, Princess?" the priestess states, a sneer crosses her lips as she narrows her eyes.

"No," I state as tersely as possible. I don't want to have to deal with the priestess at this moment.

"The king expects a list from you by sundown today. Otherwise, he will send for the males I've selected for you to meet." The priestess tilts her head, looking at me, waiting for some sort of a reaction she can complain to my father about.

If she wasn't warming my father's bed, I would have slit her throat from ear to ear years ago. I roll my eyes, then I finally answer, resigning myself to my fate. "Fine, you and Father pick the males I'm supposed to meet. It's not like my choice makes any difference; you'll get your way in the end." I stand and grab the scrolls I was looking over and walk over to the fireplace. Before the priestess can react, I toss the lists into the fire, watching them turn to ash. I turn triumphantly, smiling, placing both hands on the tabletop, and staring at the priestess.

"You wonder why we make all the decisions for you, Princess; you're brash and impulsive," she says, flailing her hands in the air. "You'll never make any male a good mate with the way you are." The priestess waves her hand dismissively in my direction. "You need Alpha males to put you in your proper place and guide you to make the best decisions." She bares her canines at me as she looks back at the ornate pitcher she brought with her.

The priestess pours two cups of the scented tea she has brought with her. With a flourish and a smile, she places my favorite flower-covered teacup in front of me, filled to the brim. Suspiciously, I look at the cup before me, staring at the dark amber fluid within; then over to the priestess, studying her features. The priestess makes a big deal out of sipping at the tea before her. I scrutinize every movement of every muscle in her face and throat, trying to discern if she actually drank the tea or not.

I have never liked the priestess and her bossy ways; the trust has never been there, she always seems to have ulterior motives. The priestess is very close to Grigore and his family. Every waking moment she's encouraging me to take Vladimir as my mate. I ponder as I look down at my tea. It smells okay, and it would be rude not to drink it. Several moments pass before I raise the glass to my lips and drink the sweet tea. The priestess's expression changes, and a wicked smile plays upon her lips. Fuck, she tricked me. Deep in the recesses of my mind, my wolf begins to howl and rage. Something is wrong; my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. I find out quite quickly that I can't summon my beast anymore. Suddenly, the fight drains out of me, and I just don't seem to care anymore.

The priestess moves to my side and walks me out of the library. In the hallway, she hands me off to my handmaiden. "Dress her appropriately; she's meeting the mates her father has selected for her tonight." The tone of her voice chills me to the bone, the lack of emotion is frighting. I move, not of my own volition, following the handmaiden. The further I walk, the less I seem to care about what's happening; I'm numb to everything.

The Priestess

The handmaiden nods and moves off with Anca, heading to her suite. After handling things with her, I head towards the west wing and into a secret passageway; one no one seems to know about. Looking left then right, I slide the secret door open and walk through. The door moves slowly and closes on its own with a soft whoosh, sealing me inside. Several twists and turns later, I enter a large room in an older part of the castle. The smell of mildew and mold hangs heavily in the air as I push open the large oak door.

The room used to be the original war room. The walls are still covered with maps of the kingdoms along our borders. A small weapons rack still sits close to the desk loaded with rapiers and dirks. Several suits of armor are placed between the bookcases from different points in our kingdom's history. The man standing at the head of the table is Grigore, captain of the king's guard. "Did you succeed?" Grigore stands tall, broad shoulders back as he puffs his chest out, looking down at me.

"Yes, she drank the tea and herbs. I have the handmaiden preparing her to meet the mates you picked out for her, M'lord." I make sure to bow deeply and gradually stand up to face him again.

"Good. Of my three sons, I only trust Vladimir to handle this unruly bitch." Grigore motions to Vladimir who's leaning against a bookcase not far from his father. His chiseled features scream predator and to run at the first chance you get. His eyes bore into you, hollow and filled with hatred. Grigore starts to speak again, snapping me out of my inner monologue. "If we didn't need an heir from her to ascend to the throne, I'd say kill them all. Let the gods sort the bodies out." Grigore looks to his left, where his sons Vladimir, Josef, and Jacob sit together.

Vladimir is smug and almost a spitting image of his father, hatred and all. Josef and Jacob are twins, though much smaller than Vladimir. I glance back over Grigore's three sons then back to him quickly.

"I must take my leave before anyone goes looking for me." Carefully I start to back up, attempting to cut this meeting as short as humanly possible. It's probably the smartest move that I have made today. Never give a predator your back; you never know when they may strike.

"Oh, I forgot to inform you: you'll be teaching my daughters blood magic. They may need it in the future." A twisted smile plays upon Grigore's weathered lips as his yellowed teeth are exposed in a creepy manner. "A father only wants what's best for his daughters; they need to be able to handle any situation that may come up." He looks over to his daughters, Elena and the elder dame. Grigore must be a lot older than I had initially thought, I say to myself.

I lightly bow my head to Grigore and his children, then exit the room swiftly. I run down the stairs heading towards the dungeons. Just past the primary cells off to the side sits my private study as well as laboratory. Several books are thrown onto the table, most on blood magic as well as transmogrification.

A gentle knock sounds at the door which catches me off guard. I look up from the book I am reading, startled to see Laurel standing there wringing her hands together.

"Priestess… has it begun?" The beautiful, young Elven woman stands there, several strands of her pink hair covering her eyes.

"Yes, my dear, it has." I finish writing on a scroll and hand it to Laurel.

"Take this directly to Oberon and then return." I stare down at the scroll as it leaves my hand. "I gave the unsuspecting mother the herbs mixed in with the blood magic I used. She will produce a hybrid at the cost of her own life." I try to show no remorse over my role in this event.

Laurel takes the scroll and holds it close to her chest. "I will deliver it straight away. Oberon will be most pleased with you." A quick bow of her head, and she is gone in a wisp of glimmering light.

"What have I done?" I lower my head into my hands; regret almost instantly begins to sink in. My stomach is in knots, knowing full well the magnitude of what I have done. Basically, I have assisted in assassinating the last pureblood Marelup. I'll be responsible for bringing an abomination into this world.

Later today, those two wicked daughters of Grigore will begin to learn blood magic. Tonight, poor Anca will be bound to four males undeserving of her. The last of a noble bloodline shall forever be tainted.

I stand off to the side, watching the gala in full swing as dignitaries from all around begin to gather to watch Anca accept her mates. On the other hand, Anca sits upon her throne with a blank expression on her face, devoid of any emotion. The king is off speaking to Grigore before the presentation begins. Vladimir, Josef, and Jacob all approach the throne heading directly towards Anca. Her dead eyes lock with Vladimir.

Languidly she rises from her throne and moves to stand before him. Anca is easily five inches shorter than Vladimir and has to crane her neck to look up at him. They stand there, staring at each other for several minutes. There's zero emotion betrayed on Anca's face. A sigh escapes her lips before she leans her neck off to the side. Submission to Vladimir is given without contention, and quickly he moves and bites her shoulder, sinking his canines in deep. My stomach churns with bile watching this mockery of a mating ceremony taking place. No pain or pleasure registers on Anca's face as she stares off over the crowd with dead eyes. Vladimir releases her shoulder and grips her neck to bring her mouth to his shoulder. Several attempts are made before Anca bites his shoulder in return. Cheers go up throughout the hall. Boldly, Vladimir moves to the king's throne and sits down. He's already assuming the mantle of king.

Anca is just a shell of herself as she sits upon her throne. She watches the party with unseeing eyes. The leader of the Great Bear Clan, Mikhail, arrives; Vladimir stands and greets him. With Mikhail is Dimitri Kovac, now assigned to be the queen's personal guard. Dimitri doesn't look thrilled with how Anca is acting. His eyes narrow, studying her closely. Vladimir motions to Anca, and she stands only to move sluggishly to Vladimir's side. Vladimir passes Anca to Mikhail as if she holds no value to him. Her dead eyes look up to Mikhail, and Vladimir issues the order to submit once Dimitri has walked away. Gradually Anca tilts her head to the side and exposes her throat to Mikhail. He hesitates for a moment, then sinks his canines deep into her flesh. Anca shows no reaction to his bite, except a single tear that rolls down her cheek. Mikhail withdraws his canines and then presses Anca's mouth to his shoulder. Several seconds pass before Anca bites Mikhail's shoulder; she holds on for only a few moments before she heads back to her throne.

Even drugged, Anca's depression becomes evident. She's now bound to two males unworthy of her. The doors to the grand ballroom blow open, and with it the temperature begins to drop swiftly. Anca's head remains lowered as she stares at her wine glass, barely able to keep her thoughts straight. Frost on her glass catches her attention, and it's the first time this entire gala that her wolf has stirred. Gradually she raises her head, and sees the beautiful man standing before her. I'm finally excited for her. This time, she appears to have some semblance of control over herself. His eyes churn like liquid mercury around his Dragon slits. His hair is as white as freshly fallen snow, and his skin is as smooth as fine china. Anca moves for the first time tonight of her own volition.

Without warning, her Lycan forces her shift and raises its head to howl her summoning call. All the Lycans within the great hall break free of their human bonds at her call, my own beast included. All eight feet of heavily-muscled Lycan stalks forward, toward the beautiful man.

" Mine, " her wolf says through the pack bond, and that is all Anca needs to hear.

Quickly her beast strikes, sinking her canines deep within the unknown male's shoulder. I watch Anca react to his fingers threading through her rough fur in soothing circles. Carefully she withdraws her canines and licks his wounds clean. Her pure-silver orbs stare down at his draconic eyes, while the beautiful man removes his cloak and wraps it around her beast's shoulders.

Anca shifts back to her human form quickly and stares up at the hunk of a man. His shoulders are broad and heavily muscled. He gently kisses Anca's forehead, then nuzzles her cheek and she willingly moves her head to the side. He finds an unmarked spot close to her throat and bites her. Anca wraps her hand around the back of the man's neck, holding his head to her shoulder. For the first time tonight, I see that Anca is actually smiling; this man's powerful blood has erased whatever spell she was under before. He gently cleans his bite and looks Anca in the eyes. "My name is Nicodeamus Tepish, of the Ice Dragon court, firstborn prince. You, my beautiful, fierce Anca, are my mate. I will love you forever and a day." He reaches down and lifts her hand to his lips, and kisses her knuckles.

I watch Vladimir standing off to the side, fuming while watching the event transpire. Anca's shift marks her true mate's arrival, thus lowering his chances of fathering the first child with her. Suspiciously, he gathers those closest to him and begins to plot what to do next to secure his place on the throne. The representative from the Dire Wolves arrives tomorrow evening. All he has to do is drug Anca again and get her to accept the last fool to arrive. Her heat is due to start any day now, so in theory all he has to do is make sure he's the only one able to produce an heir.