Page 25 of Bride of the Gilded Prince

Emre shook his head. “No, I didn’t. But I heard he’s a man who knows what he wants and gets it.”

I cocked my head. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No, it doesn’t. But the problem is that he wants a wife who will be obedient and submissive. Someone who will agree with everything he says and does. He wants a trophy wife, someone who will reflect well on him and make him look good.”

And to a Werewolf, that was the worst thing imaginable. They were proud and independent people who valued their freedom above all else. To them, the thought of being tied like that was horrifying.

The group was silent as they processed this information. I could tell they were as surprised as I was. But I doubted whether that was the truth. The history between Elves and Werewolves was complicated, to say the least. And I’m sure there was more to this point of view than what we knew.

Souhir was the first to speak up.

“That’s terrible.” Her voice was laced with anger. “No woman should have to go through that.”

Emre’s amber eyes turned hard. “I agree.”

We all knew that the Lunja were a proud and private people. And their prince was even more so. He was rumored to be a man of great power and influence. But no one knew much about him, which made him even more intriguing.

“I feel sorry for her.” Aatif broke the silence. “She doesn’t even know what she’s getting herself into.”

“No one does.” Emre frowned. “But she’ll be fine as long as she keeps her head down.”

I quickened my pace to keep up with Emre and decided to risk it. “How did you end up there?”

“The ambassador of Izmir. We’re acquaintances. She suggested I apply for this position.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Aatif laughed. “That explains a lot.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I think Aatif means that we will find out at the Great Wall if you were the right pick for the job.” One of their friends grinned.

“That’s not what I meant,” Aatif protested. But he was still laughing.

I laughed. “I’m sure Emre will do fine.”

“I’ll prove them wrong,” Emre said with determination.

Chapter 4

For Souhir, for Midar

It was unlike uncle Mehdi to summon me to his house. The last time I had been summoned was when I was five and he had scolded me for drawing on his rug.

With a piece of paper in his hand, he had strolled to where I had been sitting on the floor and kneeled so that his face was level with mine. I thought for sure he would yell, but he didn’t. Instead, he burst out laughing and told me I had a talent for art before handing me paper.

Thinking about it now, the rug must have cost at least twenty thousand gaelden. It was from the region Aetrecht, and the Lunja asked a lot for their craftsmanship. It probably cost more than I made in a year.

Now, as an adult, I stood in front of him again in the same courtyard, but this time there was no laughter. Only a deep sense of foreboding.

“Sit,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the couch in front of him.

I sat down, back straight, with my hands in my lap.

The palm trees in the courtyard rustled in the wind and I could hear the faint sound of laughter from the kitchen. But I didn’t look away.

He sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. “I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered under his breath.

His gaze fixed on the sea, a faraway look in his eyes. Pillows surrounded him, and there was a small table in front of him. On it was a newspaper and a plate of pastries. The newspaper was open to the business section, and I could see a pencil resting on top of it.

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