Chapter 16

Holding Elva, Nicholas winced as he bent his right wrist. He had tried to hide it, and maybe would have been successful if I had been anyone other than his ex-girlfriend.

He’d told me the story himself, when we had been dating.

Nicholas had excelled for his age. His werewolf abilities were some of the strongest in the entire kingdom, even when he’d been a child.

Because of this, when a war had broken out in the north between the Werewolf Kingdom and the Bear People, Nicholas had been sent to the front lines. He’d only been 11 at the time.

Though his talent was immense, he lacked the years of training that other soldiers had.

He fought hard and well. He felled many foes. But his inexperience too often led him into situations he might have otherwise known to avoid.

Once, he followed an enemy deep behind their lines, and straight into a trap.

Only with the sacrifices of so many others, was he able to escape, but not without injury.

Over time, most of the wounds had healed. All except for his right wrist.

He’d explained to me that he was often able to suppress the pain. It didn’t always bother him. But when the cold set in, or it rained or snowed, the pain would flare up again.

So many nights I had laid awake after hearing his story, imagining an 11 year old version of the boy I loved fighting in a shifter war. I had nightmares, imagining his fear, the pain he’d felt from his injuries, and the guilt he’d suffered every day, knowing others had died to save him.

Now, thoughts of the nightmares returned, with a new, different angle. Nicholas, a prince, had been sent to war. Weren’t princes supposed to be pampered and protected?

Nicholas looked at me, and I pulled my gaze away. I couldn’t let on that I knew his injury pained him. Since he hated me now, he’d hate showing me his weakness.

I didn’t want him to hurt himself further by trying to hide it.

“We should get back to our room,” I said.

I held out my arms to take Elva from him, but she buried her nose against his collar.

“I’ll walk you back,” Nicholas suggested.

“That would probably be best.” Elva could be the most stubborn girl in the kingdom, when she put her mind to it.

As we left the infirmary and made our way back to my room, I tried to smile at Nicholas. His kindness and generosity were not lost on me. It wouldn’t hurt to make nice with him, for Elva’s sake if nothing else.

“She likes you,” I said.

He gently patted Elva’s back. The girl had fallen asleep in his arms. He seemed pleased with the words, though he didn’t offer any type of reply.

After a long moment, he said, “She’ll be safe here. I will see to it personally.”

I didn’t know what else to say, other than, “Thank you, Prince Nicholas.” I tried another smile. “I’ll try to teach her how to pronounce your name.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said softly.

That familiar fond feeling flooded through me again. He couldn’t actually like being called Nick-lass? Or maybe he did. It was rather cute.

Elva was already getting so big. Soon, she would lose the cute way she said things. I supposed there was no need to rush it, not if Nicholas didn’t mind.

Once we were back in my bedroom, he tucked Elva into her side of the large bed, then left the room without another word to me, not even a goodnight.

A twinge of disappointment rose inside of me, and resenting it, I buried it quickly.

Nicholas meant nothing to me anymore.

The next day, Elva was feeling infinitely better. She bounced around the room with her usual 3 year old energy, regardless of how many times I tried to get her to sit still and rest.

While sighing from my latest failed attempt, one of the maids brought me an invitation that had been delivered to the room.

“What is it?” I asked.

“An invitation for the First Ball,” the maid said, holding out the glittering notecard. The whole thing looked like it had been dipped in gold, with the black pen letters hand-written afterwards.

I read through it all. “This invitation includes Elva…?” Could that be right? But there was her name, clear as day, directly beside mine. Perhaps this was some kind of apology for the doctors’ behavior last night? Or was this something else – another publicity stunt?

I supposed I couldn’t be picky enough to let it bother me. The royal family invited us both, so we both would attend. Full stop.

Right now, my bigger concern could be focused on the detailed dress code included at the bottom of the invitation.

“The tailors will be here in an hour,” the talkative maid said. “They’ll measure you both for the dresses.”

“Princess dresses?” Elva asked, all doe eyes and sweetness.

The maid smiled at her. “Something very close to, yes.”

Elva cheered.

The maid returned her attention to me. “The dance instructors will arrive tomorrow.”

“Dance instructors?” I knew how to do a two-step as well as anyone.

“The candidates must know all of the latest dances. Some of the proper steps for the social dances are quite complicated, these days. And then, of course, there are the traditional formal dances that the King prefers.”

Okay. So I guessed a simple two-step wasn’t going to cut it this time. We hadn’t done much dancing at the Academy – at least, not formally.

Two-step worked just fine for impromptu dances alone in the garden under the moonlight.

I shook away those memories. Nicholas had likely forgotten those special nights, so I should as well.

The tailors came and went, leaving behind the measurements for both Elva and me. The maids said they would make the dresses themselves. I offered to help, but they vehemently refused.

“It is our honor to assist you,” the quiet one said.

I appreciated them, none the less. After some coaxing, I convinced them to at least let me sit with them while they worked.

“You never know if you’ll need alterations,” I said.

Together, we moved some sewing machines and a work table into my bedroom. As they worked, I peered through some of the scraps of fabric they’d left to the side.

Some of the fabrics were very sturdy. There was even a swatch of leather among the pile.

An idea came to me.

“I think that’s enough for today,” I said, as the maids yawned and rubbed their eyes.

They agreed and excused themselves for the night.

I tucked in Elva and kissed her goodnight. Then I went to one of the sewing machines.

I worked through the night, shaping and stitching. I had to guess some of the size work, trying to remember the shape of Nicholas’s hand compared to mine.

When I finished, the morning dawn crept in through the windows. My eyes hurt and I was tired. But it wasn’t the first time I’d pulled an all-nighter. It likely wouldn’t be the last either.

I held the item I’d made in both of my hands, admiring the finished product.

A wrist guard, fit for a prince with an old injury.

It had seemed a good idea last night, a way to properly thank Nicholas for helping Elva. Words hadn’t seemed like enough.

But now, in the light of day, I hesitated.

He was cold and distant to me now. He seemed to always assume the worst.

Would he suspect this gift to be more than a mere gesture of thanks? Would he think I was trying to ingrain myself into his heart once more?

I didn’t want him to think that.

Yet I’d worked too hard to throw this gift away. Besides, he’d winced. He was in pain. The gift would help him.

Making up my mind, I collected Elva and went down to breakfast in the dining hall. The royal family, as usual, wasn’t in the room. They only seemed to dine with us during formal occasions.

But now that our seats had been selected and reserved, everyone stuck to them. This meant, the next time Nicholas entered this room, whether the girls were here or not, he would sit in this same chair.

Subtly, when no one else was looking, I slipped the wrist guard onto his seat.

I placed my finger to my lips when Elva spotted me.

This would be our little secret.