Moon Shadow (Mount Henley Trilogy Book 1)

by Kat Zaccard

  “Thank you, Nadia,” I replied. “I just needed the plain truth. Teach me politics, but don’t play me.”

  Something in her look seemed to make a decision, and she gave me a curt nod. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m playing the game I was taught. I know I must gain your trust to be your advisor. I promise to express only my sincere convictions. I truly wish to serve our people and help werewolves survive as a species and a nation. Our numbers are dwindling, and we have the encroaching human settlements to consider. An American werewolf family was hunted out of existence last summer. We have to do better.”

  Nadia paused and took a breath. Then she looked at me with all sincerity. “I have to do better, and you have to trust me. Our people need you.”

  I was surprised by her passionate words. I felt a stir somewhere beginning in my belly and ending in my throat. “I—” I faltered, unsure. “I want what’s best for our people, too. But I hardly know…”

  “That’s why you can trust me.” She leaned forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to sit next to her. “I don’t always know what’s right,” she said, as if she did, in fact, but dumb luck cheated her once in a while, “but I do know our people, from all walks of life, not just the upper crust. I know I can help, and my family has advised the Luna Clan for centuries. It’s my duty.”

  I relented, “Okay, Nadia, I want to believe you. But trust has to be earned, so no more games. You have to just tell it like it is. I prefer the direct approach.”

  “Okay.” Nadia smiled. “I’ll be direct with you, whether you like it or not. But, you have to learn my way, too. I will teach you to be diplomatic. Not everyone is as honest as you, and you have to learn to play the game a little bit. It’s a necessary evil to protect your people and survive at court.”

  She had a point, and I said as much. Nadia may think me naïve, but I was learning quickly. Most of all, I had to trust my instincts, and they were telling me to proceed with caution as far as Nadia was concerned. Conveniently, it was an excellent distraction from the other instinct screaming at me about Logan. I was carefully compartmentalizing that problem for another day. I mean, the fate of a nation paled in comparison to my stupid, maybe-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, right? Right.

  After my massage, I went walking around the palace grounds. I wasn’t willing to risk another run, and we’d be back at Mt. Henley by tomorrow anyway. But I was hoping to run into Aleksandr again. I had so many questions about the upyr. I smiled as I remembered his comment about Americans and romanticizing vampires. I mean, vampires … seriously? Okay, well, I do turn furry on a full moon, so maybe I should keep an open mind. I couldn’t help wondering what else was out there.

  I was just heading back through the palace gardens when I ran into Logan. Great. He was the last person I wanted to see. After our tiff at the Winter Ball, we’d barely seen each other. He’d made no effort to seek me out, and I had no intention of apologizing to him. He should have warned me about the ball, the upyr, and a lot more. He was raised in this life, and royal, I found it incredibly unlikely he didn’t know upyr were real. Like Nadia, I was beginning to wonder if everything he did was to fit his own agenda.

  Clearly, he hadn’t been looking for me. He actually glanced behind himself as if seeking a handy getaway. Well, I was done avoiding uncomfortable conversations.

  “Hi, Logan,” I said, stopping in the snow and crossing my arms.

  “Hey, Alice, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “Yeah, great. Hey, listen, I’d better go pack…”

  “What’s going on, Logan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Really? Did I have to spell it out for him? “What’s going on with us? After the ball, I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d come find me?”

  “Well, I was pretty mad.” He looked around, then grabbed a twig off of the nearest branch and began breaking it into pieces.

  “You were mad? You ditched me at the party.”

  “You embarrassed me!” He tossed the mangled twig into the snow.

  “I embarrassed you?” I uncrossed my arms and brushed my hair back in annoyance.

  “Alice, you are next in line for the throne and you don’t know anything about being a royal!”

  So, now the truth comes out. “Well, how could I? You aren’t exactly a fount of information.”

  “Oh, so it’s my job to coach you on being a princess?” He scoffed. “You don’t wear the right clothes, know our customs, or even hang out with the right people.”

  Okay, there was a lot to go after there. But now he’d piqued my inner wolf. “What do you mean, ‘the right people’?”

  “Alice, come on! You can’t expect other royal families to take you seriously if you run around with Little Orphan Annie all day.” He threw his arms up in exasperation and started to stomp away.

  “Hold on.” I grabbed his sleeve, and he shrugged me off. “Are you seriously talking about Shea right now?”

  He whirled on me. “Yes! Shea! And then there’s Nadia, even. At least she’s royal, but she’s whispering all sorts of ideas in your ear, isn’t she? Why can’t you just follow my grandfather’s lead at the council meetings? Do you have to be so outspoken, when you don’t even know what you’re talking about?”

  Okay, so clearly he’d been briefed on the council meeting yesterday. So much for the secrecy of the council.

  My eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you don’t know me that well if you think I’m just a figurehead to further your family’s ambition,” I said coldly.

  “Of course you’re supposed to further my family’s ambition! Why do you think we’re betrothed?” His face wore honest incredulity. He really thought there was nothing wrong with that statement.

  “I really don’t know,” I growled, “and frankly I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

  “Oh, thanks. Real nice.” He had the audacity to look affronted.

  “Seriously, Logan!” I was really frustrated now. Why didn’t he understand? “I’m trying to act like you’re just a regular boy and see if we actually connect—do we even like each other, let alone can we rule the Great Pack together?” It all sounded crazy to me, like a sci-fi flick, but he’d grown up thinking this was regular life. To him, it was.

  “You can’t rule anything; you’re an outsider. You need me to help you navigate the council. It’s trickier than it looks.” His pompous boast was maybe his first truly open utterance to me.

  I was fuming at the insult, but tried to stay on subject. “How would you know? You’re not even on the council.”

  “Don’t you realize I’ve been groomed for it my whole life? I’m taking over when my grandfather passes, and I will be king one day.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I threatened.

  His face was once again a mask. He smiled, and I caught a glint of his wolf behind his eyes. “Yes, we will. Our betrothal is a binding legal contract. And sure, it’d be easier if we liked each other, but it’s not necessary.” He stomped off, leaving deep tracks in the snow.

  I stood there, stunned. Had it all been an act? Did he even like me for me at all? Tears stung my eyes, and I angrily brushed them aside. No, I wasn’t going to shed tears over him. I whirled around, walking back into the gardens, cursing the mutinous tears. Suddenly, the queen’s proposal sounded all too appealing. Whatever strings may be attached couldn’t have been worse than a forced marriage, could it? After a moment, I shook off my shock. My stomach was in knots, and my hurt shifted quickly into anger. I turned into the garden maze, crunching through the snow and needing time to stomp out my pain and rage.

  I hated Logan, the pompous ass. I hated my long-dead birth parents for basically selling me into marriage. I couldn’t believe this ridiculous political system based on archaic modalities. I was an American, for crying out loud! I stopped for a moment at that thought, then laughed aloud, startling some birds out of a snow-covered bush. When had I gotten so patriotic? I smiled to myself, then puzzled
at the fact that I was also Her Royal Highness, Princess Alice of the Royal Clan Luna. That was my title. And if I was going to change anything about my life, I had to learn fast.

  Logan was right that I didn’t know all the history and political maneuvering that had been going on since forever, apparently. On the other hand, I wasn’t tainted by it, either. I continued walking through the maze, brushing snow off of the evergreen walls with my fingertips, turning aimlessly and winding through the winter wonderland as I pondered my situation. I needed people I could trust.

  Nadia was still a resource, but until she revealed her true agenda, I could only trust her advice so far. My parents I trusted, but they knew nothing of this world, talking to them would only worry them. And the fact was, this was my world now. “I can’t run from who I am,” I murmured to myself.

  Looking up, I realized I’d found the center of the maze. There was a statue in the middle of the round clearing. The base was four feet high, decorated with wolves running around the pedestal. Above that was a warrior queen, carved from amber-colored marble. She stood confident, wearing hunting garb, a long bow held in her left hand, arrows slung across her back. Her right hand was held in front of her, palm up, as if offering her hand. Her hair, though carved from solid stone, seemed to cascade down her shoulder in a flowing wave. On her head, she wore the diadem on the Luna Clan—well, a replica, since I’d shipped off the real one with a courier that morning. It was a decent match, made of actual gold with rubies and emeralds inlaid along the edge, and a large, clear crystal, an aquamarine perhaps, embedded in the center. The diamond drops actually dangled on the marble forehead. She was beautiful. Her face looked strong and compassionate: regal, yet friendly.

  I looked at the gold plaque set into the base.

  In honor of Queen Marguerite Helena of the Royal Clan Luna on her Coronation Day

  This was my birth mother.

  I sat on the bench across from the statue and stared at her. I tried to see anything of myself in her, but couldn’t. Here she stood a giant of herself, frozen in time at eighteen. A year and a half from where I might be. I wondered what color her hair was, her eyes. I realized then, that I had no pictures of her, and so little of her story. I was curious, sure, but I’d suppressed that curiosity. Out of what, though? Fear? Betrayal? Regret? I was so angry at her. She’d sold me to the highest bidder before I was born. How could a mother pick her baby’s future spouse?

  My father left me with people who knew nothing about my true nature. Of course I loved my adoptive parents; they’d raised me. I didn’t want to somehow tarnish their significance by learning more about the people who’d given me away. My birth parents were strangers. Marguerite and Harold were, to me, cold, distant, and foreign. Maybe they’d called each other Maggie and Harry? Maggie and Harry seemed a little more like real people that Queen Marguerite and King Regent Harold. I shook my head to dislodge my stagnant thoughts. Whatever it was, it was too much for today. I pulled my gaze away from my birth mother’s face and took out my phone. I stood up and snapped a quick picture of the statue to study later.

  “Your Majesty,” a voice called softly from behind.

  I whirled around, startled. There was a short man with thinning black hair standing with his head bowed. He looked through half-lidded eyes, and I caught the gleam of bright gold so common among werewolves. He was small in stature, maybe five-foot-five, but looked stocky and muscular under his palace uniform. I wasn’t familiar with all the different types of staff, but his suit-like uniform likely placed him somewhere inside the palace itself.

  “Excuse me, sir. I didn’t see you there,” I said by way of explanation for my distorted features.

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He bowed again. “It is I who should apologize for surprising you.”

  “That’s quite all right,” I said politely. We stood there awkwardly for a moment while the little man shuffled back and forth on his feet like he wanted to say something. I was about to give up and bid him adieu, when he finally screwed up the courage to speak.

  “Your Majesty, I am but a humble servant of the crown. I would not trouble you if I didn’t think it were of grave importance.” He glanced behind himself nervously, assessing our solitude. He looked back, his golden eyes meeting mine. “I am Pierre Grenier. I was your father’s valet.”

  I gasped. “You knew my father?”

  Pierre looked alarmed and shushed me, with a wave of his hands. “Yes! Please, Your Majesty, I must tell you something most important. Let us sit.” He motioned to the bench across from the statue of my birth mother. I stared at her for a moment, then looked back to Pierre. He was also looking at the statue.

  He turned back to me. “You look so much like her,” he said softly, “but her eyes were blue.” He’d said the last almost to himself as he scanned my features for other recognizable traits, or perhaps defects from the original. “You have your father’s eyes,” he said solemnly. “Intelligent, serious, and dark.”

  It was always a mixed bag of intrigue and butterflies to learn new things about my birth family. I wanted to know, but didn’t want to know. I cleared my throat. “You said you had something to tell me?”

  Pierre snapped out of his reverie and looked around, nervous once more. “Yes, Your Majesty, I must warn you. It is no small risk I take, talking to you, but when I saw you at the ball, I knew the rightful heir to the throne had returned.”

  I could see that Pierre was nervous and rambling. I really wanted him to get to the point. “What is it you have to warn me of, Pierre?” I prodded.

  “Princess—” He finally stopped looking around and held my gaze. “I fear you are in danger.”

  Great. Of course I am. This was all I needed. Another vague warning that not everyone wants me to be queen. I was happy to see I had support from my father’s former staff, but did he have to be so dramatic about it? I smiled patronizingly. “I appreciate your concern—”

  “No, Mademoiselle, please hear me out.” He took a deep breath. “I worked very closely with your father during his time at the palace. Your parents were—” I gave him a hard look, imploring him to stay on track. He cleared his throat. “Your mother was a wonderful queen, but when she died, your father took it very hard. I believe they were true mates, and your father was bereft with grief. He was convinced your mother and your brother had been murdered. He searched tirelessly for an explanation for their deaths.”

  I gasped at his statement. “Is it true?”

  He looked forlorn. “Your Majesty, I do not know. We were close to finding out. We suspected the midwife might know more, but she disappeared shortly after your father’s coronation as King Regent. He spent considerable time and resources on it. We had nearly tracked her down when the … the accident happened.”

  “The hunting accident you mean? Was it a boar that killed my father?”

  “Your Majesty,”—Pierre’s eyes brimmed with tears—“It wasn’t a boar that killed him. I wasn’t supposed to see.” He looked around again and lowered his voice further. I had to lean in to hear the rest.

  “It was two of his guards. I had been sent back to the palace to prepare the luncheon. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I remembered I had your father’s canteen, so I turned back to give it to him. I had tracked them through the woods and was hidden behind the trees when I first heard the scuffle. I remained hidden. I confess, it is my greatest shame! I should have burst on the scene and taken the blackhearts down. But it was already too late. One held his arms back, while the other stabbed him viscously with a boar’s tusk. I bit through my glove to keep from screaming, and tasted blood. I knew I would retch if I remained, and betray my location. I had already betrayed my king. I fled the scene and returned to the palace. I claimed that I heard something in the woods and the king needed aid. I led a patrol party out to the scene. One of the guards met us part way, raving about needing a medic.”

  Pierre swallowed. “I should have pointed them out as murderers, but they were Slivers
of the Royal Guard. Would other palace guards trust me over them? So I waited. I had planned to approach the high council, but first I had to see you safe.”

  I gasped. Was this the man who’d taken me from the palace?

  “Your father,” he continued, “had been growing more and more suspicious after your mother died. I thought he was grieving. I went along with his plans, never thinking I’d actually have to carry them out. When he died that day, I knew. I knew I had to trust his plan. The only person in the palace I could trust had been murdered. So I secreted you away in the middle of the night. I followed your father’s orders and took you to a trusted ally, who brought you to your adoptive family. I returned to the palace to seek justice for your family, but by then, your father’s death had been ruled an accident. Christina Reynolds had installed herself as Queen Regent, and the two guards who’d murdered your father were suspiciously absent. I searched for them to find answers, but every lead I had dried up, as if they’d disappeared into thin air. I believe whomever ordered them to murder your father got rid of them, as well.”

  I stared at Pierre in disbelief, shocked. I knew my parents were dead, but to learn they’d been murdered? “Who do you think ordered their deaths?”

  “I have no proof, Princess, but who had the most to gain?”

  “Christina,” I growled.

  He shushed me. “Be careful, my queen.”

  “What am I to do? You’ve given me this terrible information. How can I discover the truth?”

  “You must remain calm, Princess. I confess I’d given up my search when years passed with no further proof. But now that you’ve returned to us, I will renew my efforts. I’ve had to lie low and stay unnoticed. I have learned who is loyal to the Queen Regent, and who wished for your return. I can stay here and spy for you. I will search for evidence. You must stay alive. Be careful whom you trust, and for heaven’s sake, where is your security detail?”

  Pierre looked exasperated with me, and I almost smiled as his concern. The truth of his story was still sinking in. I had a lot to process.