Unexpected Visitor

They were outside setting up the decorations for the engagement ceremony when a group of armored men clattered into the paved courtyard ahead of a white coach with gold inlays that looked like it belonged in a fairytale.

"Oh, dear," Argana bit through her teeth, and the hair on the back of Derya's neck stood on end.

The footmen jumped off before the coach even came to a proper standstill and opened the door for the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, dressed in a blue silk dress that looked unreal.

"Don't let her sense any fear in you; she's like a damned dog," Argana warned with more malice than she thought her hostess capable of displaying.

Her shoulders squared, and she automatically checked that the amazing dress Argana gifted her with this morning was still clean and increased. However, it looked plain compared to the one their uninvited guest wore.

The footmen rolled open a red carpet so the princess' slippered feet would not have to touch the cobblestones and get dirty.

"You look fine. You've been working all morning, not preening yourself like a cat," Argana said as if reading her thoughts.

"Should I warn my brother?" Bailey asked, and Argana discreetly raised a mocking brow at her.

"You are not getting out of this, Bailey. Now or later, you will have to greet her."

Why did Bailey seem so unsettled? But her gaze caught one of the servants that skittered away as Bailey took an unintentional step back.

Only Argana and Andor treated Bailey as if she were normal, the passive aggressiveness of the staff and other humans was barely hidden by a veil of fake respect, and the halfling, or more correctly, tri-ling, wasn't fooled.

Their ignorance of her race protected her from such scorn and spite, which didn't seem right, but she had no choice but to play along.

"Princess Safiya of Afgar!" the butler announced as the princess stopped at the edge of the steps, clearly waiting for them to come to her.

Argana's jaw tightened, her eyes glittering with anger, but she contained herself and took the lead to greet their guest.

"Princess Safiya, what an unexpected pleasure. We were not expecting you for four more days," Argana said; the words were laden with implied meanings.

Arriving at a castle before the date one was expected, without sending word ahead, was a crass breach of etiquette in any realm.

"What is this nonsense about Andor marrying some foreign princess?" Safiya didn't acknowledge the greeting, another unforgivable gaffe.

She didn't wait to be introduced and spoke to lady Argana as if the Royal Steward were some handmaid or servant, while completely ignoring Bailey as if she didn't exist, and Derya as well.

"Princess Safiya of Afgar, meet the princess Derya Marquist of Travalghur, Andor's bride-to-be," Argana introduced, her manner gracious despite the animosity barely hiding beneath her false smile.

Safiya finally deigned to glance at Derya.

Her spine straightened, and her jaw tilted at an angle. Her father called that little habit of hers "Derya's cat pose" because he said she was like a wild cat getting ready to scratch whenever she did that.

"I've never heard of it or her," Safiya said, their eyes measuring like two street cats warily circling each other and about to attack.

"And I have never heard of Afgar... or you," Derya drawled, the foreign tones of her accent giving credence to the fact that she wasn't from these parts.

The ghost of a smile touching Argana's elegant lips told her the lady was mentally applauding her for not allowing this haughty princess to intimidate her.

Perhaps being caught up in her circumstances these last four days and feeling so uncomfortable and threatened in this human world with all the changes to her reality had impacted her more than she realized.

Making her act like the younger version of herself that couldn't cope with the intrigues and politics of palace life, insecure and uncomfortable, unable to assert herself, and painfully shy, but her father changed everything by getting her a tutor.

Nineve, a former princess, wasn't cowed by her loss of station. Almost arrogant at times, dauntless, relentless, and unintimidated with living between werewolves, she knew just how to draw Derya from her shell and make her own who she was.

"Then you must live under a rock; everyone knows Afgar from coast to coast. We're wealthy, powerful, and respected with a vast army at our command," Safiya said like some goddess speaking to a peasant.

Derya bit back a hasty reply. Although her father's kingdom was ten times the size of Andor's, she couldn't say things like that. It wouldn't make sense within the geography of Rohandor.

"My father says true wealth and power speaks for itself; it does not need to be brought up in conversation," Derya said, and it was a new experience to have to defend her position. Usually, just being her father's daughter made her one of the most influential people in any room.

"Then your country must be some tiny, meaningless dot on a map," Safiya said, and Derya could not defend herself because she knew nothing of the "kingdom" from which she supposedly hailed.

The glitter of triumph in Safiya's eyes angered her.

"Travalghur is only slightly smaller than our kingdom," Argana said.

"As I said, tiny," Safiya needled, and Argana's visibly reacted to the insult.

"And yet here you are, ready to claim it," Bailey said, angry enough to speak up.

"Children should be seen, not heard," Safiya said, glaring at Bailey as if she were some slave that insulted her by speaking to her.

"This is a strategic harbor and a portal to great wealth when ruled correctly," Safiya needled again, and Derya couldn't believe her ears.

This woman had no respect for anything or anyone. She'd just insulted not only Argana and Bailey in the space of a few minutes but implied that Andor wasn't fit to rule this kingdom as it should be governed.

"How fortunate for us that Afgar will never govern us," Argana said with a smile that almost looked genuine.

"If you think we will allow Andor to marry some slut from a minor kingdom, you are sadly mistaken," Safiya said, staring right into Derya's eyes. Allowing her gaze to assess the simple dress Derya had chosen for spending most of the morning in the shadowy courtyard with the servants.

"That is quite enough, Princess Safiya. You are my guest and will not insult my future wife any further, my kingdom or kin." The coldness of Andor's tone as he stepped into the courtyard from between the two large doors made Safiya freeze as she realized the implications of him overhearing their conversation.

She swiveled on her heel to face him where he stood at the top of the stairs in a riding outfit that hugged his frame like a second skin, looking more handsome than any mere human had a right to be, and even the suppressed werewolf reacted to the magnificent sight.

Those chocolate brown eyes and arched brows, his high forehead, strong nose, sexy lips, and powerful jaw looked sinfully, decadently delicious, cast in the light falling across his face and highlighting his features. He had a powerful presence for a human, and with him barely controlling the raging fury in his manner, he looked dangerous, stern, and impressive.

Despite him being human, her father would respect him, and as for Safiya, Rothgar would instantly dislike her.

She was everything he hated about royals and humans.

Although she had to admit that the blond woman with her ice-blue eyes, exceptional beauty, and curves, although a little short, would look stunning beside him, it was a pity her insides didn't match the packaging. She ascended the steps toward him, pulling her dress up and flashing her most seductive smile at him.

Derya almost scoffed.

She bet this princess was used to men falling at her feet, but Andor merely frowned at her, observing her with the wariness of a mouse watching a cat approach.

"You are much more beautiful than she is," Argana said so quietly that only her werewolf hearing picked up on the words.

"And you are nice."

And maybe one nosy elf.

"With a bit of an edge," Argana teased.

Safiya moved in to hug him, and he stepped back, taking her hand to keep the distance between them, and bowed elegantly over it, his lips stopping almost an inch from those elegant, bejeweled fingers.

When he straightened, she tried to use his hand to bring him closer and attempted to hug him again, but he simply stepped away.

Her manner changed visibly.

"Without our alliance, you don't stand so cozy," she hissed, and Derya had to strain to hear those words.

"And without my allies, you don't stand so cozy," his lips didn't even move as he said this, his brown eyes almost black.

"Bereghia offered us an alliance," she taunted smugly.

"Samnor is a treacherous ally. Good luck being married to that old goat. I hear he enjoys walking around naked and the company of other men's wives."

The ghost of a sarcastic smile touched the edges of his mouth.

Stalemate.

"What are they saying?" Argana asked.

"Something about Bereghia and old goats," Derya said, knowing her hostess would need no more explanation.

"Porteus would never sully his succession with Beregian blood, and Samnor has more wild oats than any other royal," she scoffed.

"Spite is a powerful motive," Derya said, watching Safiya's shoulders stiffen and her left hand clench into a fist.

"You lost our support today," the princess stated calmly.

"I'll inform my allies we can no longer count on you," he calmly answered.

"Without us and our allies, they would be isolated, and Bereghia won't bother marrying her; he'll just invade," Argana whispered. "With his allies in tow, they won't stand a chance."

"And I thought my world was a melting pot."

"You can take the fae out of a human, but you can't take the human out of the fae," Argana said.

"Unfortunately, true."

"Please properly greet my aunt and allow her to escort you to your room. If you are not off to marry Samnor and plan a war, you may as well stay for my wedding."

If she did as he suggested, she'd be humiliated, and he'd prove the power of his standing. If she ignored him, it would cause an incident that might lead to repercussions, and Derya almost smirked, but she was too tense. This would not have happened if it were not for her presence.

Apparently, like his people, Safiya had rarely encountered the iron will hiding beneath his calm exterior. And, like them, it made her think he'd allow himself to be manipulated and bullied.

That was the thing with people who were reasonable and slow to anger; when they did get angry, they were dangerous.

"Perhaps my father could talk some sense into you," she spat, turning toward Argana with fire in her eyes and her mouth set in a thin line.

"Mind your step," he said as she lifted her dress to descend to the courtyard, but he wasn't talking about the stairs.

She turned back to face him.

"You will regret this day," she promised.

"We'll see."