Page 3 of A Crown of Fates
I wave a hand. “Quit with the formalities. I’m not in line to be queen of anything at the moment. Consider me just one of the women forced to be on this boat with you.”
She clutches the handle of her suitcase, shuffling her feet until she’s further back in the modest room that contains one bunk bed, a small dresser, and an overhead light that flickers above us. “As you wish.”
Well, this should be interesting.
I turn to Geena. “Will you find out if the sugary smell coming from the kitchen is brownies or cake? If so, bring some for me and my new roommate, please.”
Geena curtsies. “Yes, Princess Estee.”
She closes the door behind us, and I address Drea again. “Please, don’t feel weird around me. I’m not as royal as some think. Sure, I was in line for the throne in one of my past lives—and my sister is the queen—but right now I’m perfectly content to be a wolf shifter within the Polaris pack.”
Her breath comes out in a shudder. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. I wouldn’t be if my mother hadn’t threatened to burn all my clothes.”
A bubble of laughter builds within me as I feign horror. “That’s sacrilege. How could she?”
Drea finally giggles, dimples forming in her round cheeks as her shoulders relax. “I don’t know, but I couldn’t let it happen, so here I am.”
I walk toward her and throw an arm over her shoulder. “No, hereweare. I actually really am glad I’m not going to be alone. Or with someone who’s salivating at the thought of being the next queen.”
Drea’s face twists. “No, thank you.”
And just like that, this voyage is a little better. I’ll gain a new friend, one who might even help me to blend in easier with the other women, and make it out of this week without too much excitement or drama.
Before I know it, I’ll be back in Polaris, and everything will go back to normal.
Do you hear that, Universe?
Everything will go back to normal.
CHAPTER TWO
ESTEE
Istumble off the boat with an uneasy groan, my legs still swaying from the motion of the sea. The ground feels like it’s rocking beneath me, and if it weren’t for Drea’s firm grip on my arm, I’d be face-first in the dirt by now. While I appreciate her quick reflexes, the sudden jerk upward only worsens my already spinning head.
“Who the hell invented seasickness?” I grumble, rubbing my temples. My hands do little to steady the world still swirling around me.
The two days of our voyage were nothing but misery. Spending the entirety of the trip confined to my cabin, hunched over a bucket, was not how I’d envisioned thisgrandjourney. I’d imagined at least a bit of ocean air, maybe some time spent on the deck under the sun, but instead, it was me, my trusty bucket, and whatever crackers Drea could convince me to consume. None of which stayed down for long.
Drea chuckles beside me, her amusement only adding to my irritation. She’s been a saint—helping me by braiding my hair back, wiping the vomit from my chin, and ensuring I didn’t starve or become dehydrated.
“Oh, Estee,” she teases, her tone light, “you don’t have to pretend anymore. We’re here. There’s no going back.”
A growl rumbles low in my chest, and it’s enough to make her flinch, just a little. “What kind of psychopath would fake this misery?”
She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “One who really doesn’t want to risk being mated to a king.”
Touché.
Before I can retort, a voice cuts through the air—a familiar, and not entirely welcome, one. “It’s a good thing you’re not fated for a sea dragon.”
I lift my head up. Elyn, the pack’s elder healer, is standing a few feet away. She’s grinning, her wrinkled face folding into a look that’s part amusement, part mischief. The last time I saw her, she’d performed magic that had—technically—killed me. And Isla. Sure, it was to break a curse, but I’m still convinced she enjoyed draining the life out of us a little too much.
Before I can respond, Elyn blows a handful of silvery dust directly into my face. I double over, retching and coughing, certain my lungs are about to flee my body.
“What the hell, Elyn?” I manage to snarl once I can breathe again, my throat burning from the assault.
Elyn raises a greying brow, her weathered face showing no remorse. “Unless youwantedto spend the next few hours being poked and prodded by handmaidens while attempting to keep the projectile vomiting to a minimum, I suggest you be grateful.”