Werewolf

Maerilee
The rest of the ball seems to drag on forever. My earlier outburst and the whole ordeal with River leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and despite my best efforts to shake it off, I remain testy for the remainder of the evening. The Oceanans have excused themselves for the night, with King Alastair and Queen Lyria offering a brief, tight-lipped promise of a formal apology tomorrow. I can still see River’s embarrassed, red face in my mind, though the satisfaction I initially felt at calling him out has long since faded. Now, I just want the night to end.
None of the other guests spark even the slightest interest in me. They all blend into one monotonous sea of faces, false pleasantries, and meaningless small talk. I try to keep up appearances, but my thoughts keep drifting elsewhere, particularly to Brook and Akin. Of all the people I’ve met in my life—nobles, commoners, visiting di

Maerilee
The next morning, I sit straight-backed in my chair, positioned on the dais next to my mother and father. The throne room feels colder than usual, though that has more to do with the political atmosphere than the physical temperature.
The sun is streaming through the tall windows, casting the room in golden light, but the tension in the room is palpable. My fingers rest on my lap, carefully clasped to avoid betraying any of the unease building in my chest. I’m supposed to be calm, poised. Queenly, as my mother would say.
At my side mother radiates composure. Father sits on her other side, his expression one of polite anticipation, though I know him well enough to see the glint of amusement in his eyes. The situation isn’t lost on him, though he’d never show it openly. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he found the entire situation with River and Brook amusing last night. In his m

Maerilee
The moment the wine splashes over River, soaking him head to toe in red, I almost can’t stop the grin that pulls at my lips. I catch myself before it fully forms, pressing my hand to my mouth in an attempt to look concerned. But inside, I’m more than a little pleased.
River has spent the entire evening trying to undermine Brook, I can see that clearly. There’s an air about him, a kind of casual cruelty, like everything he touches should bend to his will. I’m not certain, but I suspect that the spill was his fault in the first place. Still, seeing him get a taste of his own mischief, even if it’s accidental, feels oddly satisfying.
Brook stands there beside me, looking slightly startled by what he’s done, yet doesn’t seem the least bit guilty. If anything, he seems almost surprised it worked out the way it did.
I turn to him, allowing my smile to show now that I know River can’t see me.
“That was impressive,” I say, my voice soft but sincere. “Thank you for saving my dress. Your control over your water magic is remarkable.”
Brook’s eyes widen slightly, as though he can’t quite believe I’m complimenting him.
“It was nothing,” he mutters, glancing down at the floor, as though unsure of what to do with praise. “I just didn’t want you to get soaked.”
“Well, I’m grateful,” I continue, my tone genuine.
He shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, but I can see a small flicker of pride in his eyes. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
Before I can say anything else, though, I catch sight of movement across the room. My stomach tightens as I watch the king and queen of Oceana, his parents, marching toward us with River trailing behind, his face a thunderstorm of anger and humiliation. There’s no way this is going to end well.
I feel a protective instinct rise within me, a sudden need to shield Brook from whatever is about to happen. He doesn’t deserve this. But before I can figure out how to intervene, they’re already upon us.
“Brook!” King Alastair’s voice cuts through the air like a whip, cold and commanding. His eyes, hard as ice, lock onto his youngest son. “What is the meaning of this?”
Brook doesn’t say a word. He stands there, silent, his head slightly bowed, refusing to meet his father’s gaze. I can feel the tension radiating from him, the weight of years of unspoken grievances and slights pressing down on him.
Queen Lyria’s face is a mask of disdain as she looks Brook up and down, her lips curled in disapproval. “How could you be so careless?” she demands, her voice sharp. “This is beyond irresponsible, Brook.”
River, of course, steps forward, dripping wine but looking entirely smug, as if this whole incident is somehow Brook’s fault and not his own.
“Typical,” he mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Always causing trouble. He couldn’t even make it through one evening without embarrassing us.”
I grit my teeth, feeling a surge of anger on Brook’s behalf. I want to say something, anything to defend him, but I’m not sure it’s my place. These are his parents, after all. They outrank me here, even if I am the heir to Altinna.
But Brook doesn’t even try to defend himself. He stands there, taking the berating in silence, his shoulders slightly hunched as though he’s been through this a thousand times before. Maybe he has.
I can’t let this go on.
“Actually,” I interject, stepping forward so that I’m standing next to Brook, “it was an accident. The servant slipped on some ice, and Brook used his magic to keep the wine from spilling on me.” I glance pointedly at River, though I don’t say anything else. It’s enough that he knows I’m aware.
King Alastair’s eyes flicker to me, but his expression remains hard, unmoved.
“An accident?” he repeats, his voice cold. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I insist, keeping my voice steady. “And Brook’s quick thinking saved me from being drenched in wine. He deserves to be thanked, not reprimanded.”
Queen Lyria’s gaze shifts to me now, her expression softening just a fraction, but only because I’m a princess, no doubt. “Your Highness, while we appreciate your defense of Brook, this kind of recklessness is unacceptable.”
“Recklessness?” I ask, my brow furrowing. “What’s reckless about using one’s magic to help others? He did nothing wrong. If anything, he prevented a larger mess from happening.”
I can feel Brook tense beside me, like he’s bracing for whatever backlash might come next. He’s still silent, still not defending himself, and I wonder how long he’s been conditioned to simply take whatever harsh words are thrown his way.
River, however, can’t help but chime in again, his voice dripping with false innocence. “Perhaps if Brook focused more on his responsibilities and less on showing off, things like this wouldn’t happen.”
I shoot River a glare, and for a brief moment, I wish I had some magic that could put him in his place. But I don’t. All I have are my words, and I intend to use them.
“Showing off?” I repeat, incredulous. “Brook wasn’t showing off. He was helping. If that’s what you consider showing off, then maybe you should reconsider what you define as ‘responsibility,’ River.”
River opens his mouth to retort, but King Alastair raises a hand, silencing him. “Enough,” he says, his voice heavy with finality. He turns his cold gaze back to Brook, and for a moment, I think he might say something more—something cruel, perhaps—but instead, he just sighs, a long, disappointed sound. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one night, Brook. We’ll discuss this later.”
Just as I’m about to try again, I catch sight of my mother and father making their way toward us. I can tell by the looks on their faces that they’ve come to smooth things over, as they always do. Mother walks with the calm grace of someone who’s used to handling problems with a mere flick of her wrist. Father follows close behind, his expression stern but composed.
“Your Highness,” my mother says, addressing me but clearly speaking for the benefit of those around us, “we deeply apologize for the servant’s clumsiness. Such accidents are regrettable, and we’ll make sure it’s dealt with.”
I nod, though the apology feels hollow. This wasn’t the servant’s fault, and I know it. But before I can respond, I feel a presence beside me, and I turn to see Akin. His dark eyes meet mine, and I can see the flicker of something unsaid in his gaze.
He leans in close, his voice low but insistent.
“Maerilee, I saw what happened. It wasn’t an accident.” His words send a chill down my spine, and I can feel my heart start to race. “Prince River formed a patch of ice under the servant, causing him to slip. He did it on purpose. I imagine he was jealous that you were talking so fondly with his brother.”
I blink, my mind reeling. Of course, I’d suspected River was involved, but hearing it confirmed like this makes my blood boil. The audacity of him! His childish, mean-spirited prank that nearly ruined the evening, and then he had the gall to stand there and act like Brook was to blame. The anger builds inside me, a fire I can’t suppress any longer.
I snap.
“River!” I shout, my voice rising over the voices of our parents, who are still discussing what happened. All eyes turn in my direction, waiting for what I’m going to say next. My pulse is pounding in my ears, but I don’t care. “You’re nothing but a man-child who can’t even own up to his own misdeeds!”
A hush falls over the assembled crowd, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room has frozen in place. River looks like he’s been struck. His face flushes red with both embarrassment and anger, and his eyes narrow in my direction.
His parents are clearly shocked. Queen Lyria’s mouth falls open in disbelief, while King Alastair’s face hardens, his eyes blazing with fury.
“River,” he growls, his voice cold and commanding, “what does she mean by this?”
River hesitates, his gaze flickering between me, his parents, and the crowd that’s now hanging on every word. For a moment, I think he’s going to deny it, to lie to everyone but then his shoulders slump, and I see the guilt in his eyes. He knows he’s been caught.
“It was just a joke,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t think it would—”
“How dare you embarrass us like this?” Queen Lyria hisses, her face contorted with rage. “In front of the entire court! I cannot believe you would be so irresponsible!”
King Alastair shakes his head, his disappointment evident. “This is disgraceful, River. We expected better from you.”
I stand there, watching as River shrinks under the weight of his parents’ scolding, but something about the scene feels wrong. It’s not enough. Yes, they’re furious at him for embarrassing them, for causing trouble at a royal event, but they haven’t said a word about Brook. Not once have they acknowledged that their other son, the one who had to deal with River’s cruelty, deserves an apology. And that only makes me angrier.
I open my mouth to point this out, to say exactly what I’m thinking, but before the words can leave my lips, I feel a hand on my arm. My mother’s hand.
“Maerilee,” she demands softly but firmly. “You’ve done enough. Stay out of it.”

Maerilee
The rest of the ball seems to drag on forever. My earlier outburst and the whole ordeal with River leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and despite my best efforts to shake it off, I remain testy for the remainder of the evening. The Oceanans have excused themselves for the night, with King Alastair and Queen Lyria offering a brief, tight-lipped promise of a formal apology tomorrow. I can still see River’s embarrassed, red face in my mind, though the satisfaction I initially felt at calling him out has long since faded. Now, I just want the night to end.
None of the other guests spark even the slightest interest in me. They all blend into one monotonous sea of faces, false pleasantries, and meaningless small talk. I try to keep up appearances, but my thoughts keep drifting elsewhere, particularly to Brook and Akin. Of all the people I’ve met in my life—nobles, commoners, visiting dignitaries—the only ones I’ve ever felt even a faint connection to have been those two. There’s somet

Chapter6: No Rest for the Weary