Heart of the Wolf Prince

Chapter Six (b)

The cloying scent of roses greet me. I am immediately surrounded by rose gardens, all penned in by neat, bright-green hedges. Trees dot the dirt path that carves through the courtyard, providing shade from the harsh rays of the sun. I begin to walk, trying to even my breaths and calm down.

As I do, something blue twitches on the dirt path. I look down to see a little blue bird, flapping its wing frantically as the other hangs uselessly at its side.

My heart wrenches, and before I can think better of it, I cup the little bird in my hands. At first, it panics at the contact and pecks at my hand in defence, but I quickly shush it and pull it closer to my chest.

"There, there. I'm not going to hurt you," I whisper. The bird's beady eyes turn up to look at my face, black and pit less. Still, I sense a bit of trust in it as it stops resisting, and instead holds still as I gently probe at the wing.

It's broken, broken just like my nose probably is. But my nose isn't a vital body part like a wing is to a bird. Suddenly, I feel guilty, and any lingering anger washes out of me as I stare at the bird. Maybe I'm not having the worst day, after all.

I set the bird down on a hedge as I search for any materials. There's nothing I can really do other than make a splint of sorts and hope for the best. If it goes well, I can come back and feed the bird during lunch breaks. I smile at the thought as I pick twigs off the ground. When I return to the bird, who is still looking at me with those pit less eyes, I tear off the frilly cuff of my blouse and pick up the bird. The bird is surprisingly calm as I wrap the material around its body and insert the sticks for support. It won't be able to use its wings this way, but at least that will give it a shot to heal. After all, it still has its legs.

I have just tied off the material with a knot when a voice comes from behind me, "You were supposed to have returned ten minutes ago. What are you doing?"

Startled, I whirl around, completely forgetting about the bird I hold in my hands.

Prince Kohl pierces me with his gaze. In the sunlight, his hair's navy sheen almost glows, and his skin is so pale it appears a little grey.

Once again, I am lost for words. I can only hear the ones running around in my head, the racing thoughts that seem to yell as I hold Prince Kohl's gaze. How did Prince Kohl notice my absence? Am I going to get in even more trouble than I already am? What the hell do I even say in answer to his question?

Instead, I say nothing. That seems to be the right answer, though, because Kohl nods towards me and says, "You know, it's not very smart to purposefully pour water on your master."

"It was an accident," I say too quickly.

A smile breaks along Kohl's face – one that holds no warmth at all, but rather looks like a warning, reminding me of a rattlesnake when it shakes its tail. "Do not lie to me, dear. I watched you do it."

I fall silent. Prince Kohl was watching me? The questions leave my mind immediately, however, as his eyes slide to the bird in my hands, and he cocks a well-groomed brow.

"What are you doing with that thing?"

"It is not a thing," I say, almost harshly, then remember with whom I'm speaking to and adjust my tone. "It's a Common House-Martin. It has a broken wing so I'm trying to help it."

"You're trying to help it. How sweet." His voice drips with sarcasm. I scowl, bending down to nestle the bird under the hedge. I know I should be afraid of him, but now he's really starting to grate on my nerves. His eyes find mine again. "But there is no point in helping such doomed creatures. They will never lead fulfilling lives with ailments such as that. You are just being a hopeful idiot."

It takes me a moment to understand the double meaning of his words. I am enraged, and before I can stop myself, I say, "There is nothing wrong with being kind. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"And why would I do that?" he snips back. "Kindness is weakness. Kindness is for the weak, so I suppose it makes sense why you practice it."

I am inflamed. I speak before I can even think better of it. "At least I don't sleep with the first woman who gives me the doe-eye, you shallow prick. I pray for the girl who ends up with your conceited ass; I don't think I've ever met a man more one-dimensional than you."

For a moment, he just stares at me, stunned. I can tell by the brief flash of anger in his eyes that the insult hit, but before I can do anything, he draws himself to his full height.

"This is no way to speak to your future king—"

"Well, your highness, you don't seem to think I'll live long enough to see you become king. I guess that makes us two hopeful idiots." Silence. Kohl just stares at me, looking a little bewildered. Before I can say anything else that may condemn me to death, I give a brisk curtsey and rush away.

As I walk away, I curse myself. Since when have I had such a loose tongue? As I walk, I realise I'm right; if I carry on talking to the prince the way I do, then I definitely won't live long enough to see him become king.