The Wolf Prince. Karen WhiddonЧитать онлайн книгу.
you fetch me some more coffee, my dear?” With a smarmy smile, Prince Eric tapped her on the shoulder like she was his personal maid.
Stiffening, Tatiana fought the urge to tell him to get it himself. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “We have servants for that. All you need to do is hold up your hand and signal one of the waitstaff. See, there are several standing over by the silver coffee urn.”
Instead of being mollified, he pouted. “I’d rather you get it. Such a personal gesture carries so much meaning, don’t you think?”
Right, she thought. So much meaning. In a sad little way, he was right, because if she scurried to do his bidding, she’d be setting a precedent for the rest of their lives together. That is, if she was unlucky enough to actually marry him. She simply had to finagle her way out of this.
Clenching her jaw, she kept her pretty smile in place. No, she wouldn’t be jumping up to fetch and carry for him. Not now, not ever.
Pretending to misunderstand, she tilted her head. “Of course. I’ll do it.” And she lifted her hand, signaling a servant over. “Prince Eric needs more coffee.”
Immediately, the waiter brought over a new, piping-hot cup and set it down in front of the prince.
“There you go,” Tatiana said brightly, pretending not to notice Eric’s frown as he gaped at her, apparently stunned into silence that she hadn’t jumped when he had snapped his fingers. “Next time, you’ll know what to do so you can get it yourself.”
And with that small insult, she turned back to her left, keeping her sweet and slightly dopey smile in place. She’d learned early on that her beauty tended to intimidate men. Yet if she acted less intelligent, that one flaw appeared to negate the other, at least as far as they were concerned.
While Eric stewed silently, Chad leaned closer, smiling a small, secretive smile. “Well done,” he murmured. “Most women are so busy fawning all over him. I wager he has no idea how to react to one who doesn’t.”
Pleased, Tatiana took a sip of her own coffee, now lukewarm. She wished she could say more, but she had to be careful not to overplay her hand.
Speaking of which, Prince Chad squeezed hers under the table, apparently intent on continuing his sensual thumb massage.
Enough. Aware of the dangers of acquiescing too early, she moved both her hands to the top of the table, folding one over the other and pretending to inspect her flawless manicure.
He gave a snort of laughter, which she ignored.
Casually she glanced at her watch. Where the hell was Willow? Their mother had been quite clear in letting her know that she was to attend this breakfast on time. First she’d missed the welcome reception and now this? Already she was over thirty minutes late.
A quick glance at Queen Millicent showed her mother had definitely noticed and was greatly displeased. Though she kept her face expressionless, well aware of the consequences brought on by a frown, the queen’s eyes snapped with annoyance.
About to push to her feet and fetch her sister, Tatiana breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened and Willow strolled inside. Tatiana noticed her sister had not taken her advice and had chosen to wear the blue silk dress.
Both men turned to look. Inside, Tatiana prayed Prince Eric would somehow find Willow attractive, if only because of the sharp contrast between her coloring and everyone else’s.
Apparently, the weight of everyone’s stares made Willow falter. She nearly stumbled, regaining her balance only at the last moment and flashing the group a weak smile. “Good morning, everyone,” she murmured.
Even though this dress wasn’t as flashy as what most considered fashionable and Tatiana herself wouldn’t be caught dead in it, reluctantly she approved. She had long ago noticed that Willow looked better when she wore less glitz and glam. She had no idea why that would be so—in her opinion, the more glitter the better—but it was true.
And the sky-blue color of the gown made Willow’s dusky complexion glow. She had, Tatiana noticed, even taken the time to twist her long, dark hair into a chignon. If she was feeling charitable, Tatiana might even say her sister looked … pretty. In an odd, shadowy sort of way.
To Tatiana’s right, Prince Eric puffed out his chest, believing here would be another easy conquest. To her left, Prince Chad went very, very still. As Willow approached with her father, King Puck, in order for him to make the introduction, Tatiana noticed the younger EastWard prince’s set jaw. He narrowed his eyes at the woman he’d been promised to marry. If anything, he looked furious.
Good, she thought with satisfaction. Evidently he hadn’t been told of the youngest princess’s physical shortcomings. And there was no way he could know Willow had no magic, either. Which was fine with Tatiana, since she planned to tell him herself. Once he believed himself to be doomed to marry such an ugly, non-magical woman, Prince Chad would be that much riper for the picking. He’d crumple under the massive assault she had planned.
She watched from under her lashes as his nostrils flared, obviously trying to maintain a bland expression.
She’d seen men do that before, though usually they’d been looking at her, overcome by her loveliness and trying not to show it.
All her life, Tatiana had been the beautiful one. Sought-after, cosseted, beloved eldest daughter. The world was more than her oyster—it was her pearl. And her baby sister, Willow, had proved to be the perfect foil, reflecting back Tatiana’s beauty and amplifying it by comparison.
For that, Tatiana was grateful, though she’d never expressed her gratitude to Willow. How could she, when to do so would mortally offend the younger woman?
Both of the EastWard princes watched Willow walk toward them, appearing riveted. Tatiana knew that had to be a ruse. They didn’t fool her. After all, who know better than her what men wanted?
Chapter 4
Here we go, Willow told herself as she propelled herself forward, aiming for the single empty chair at the table. She tried to move gracefully, even though exhaustion from the night before made her legs feel hollow and wobbly. Eyeing her sister as she approached, she wondered why Tatiana looked so smug, like a cat that had wandered across a mouse farm.
Of course the moment she took her attention from what she was supposed to be doing, Willow stumbled. She flailed her arms in a passable imitation of a windmill, nearly tearing her dress in her painful attempt to keep from falling flat on her face.
Despite the exhausted weakness of her traitorous body, she miraculously managed to keep standing.
Both princes immediately leaped to their feet to offer their assistance. Face flaming, she waved them away, not missing the wry look her father gave her.
At least her family was used to her complete lack of social skills. While this was her first fall, she was frequently guilty of other faux pas, like saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time. No doubt these two visiting princes had heard stories about her. Even as they once again took their seats, their backs stiff and unyielding, she felt their silence as a form of judgment. She didn’t even try to look at her mother, already aware of the furious condemnation she’d find there.
Instead she glanced again at her sister. Tatiana only tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Normally, she would have made cruel jokes and laughed meanly. Instead, she sat solemnly, her golden beauty glowing, a sympathetic look on her beautiful face. False, but sympathetic nonetheless.
Weird. Really, really weird.
As she resumed her progress toward her seat, remembering what her sister had said, Willow tried to check out their visitors surreptitiously. Tatiana sat between the two princes, their three fair heads the exact same glorious gold, their eyes varying shades of violet, though close enough that they might have been related.
They were perfect examples of the Bright. As shimmering, as golden, as Willow