One
If only the screaming inside her head would quiet down for a while, long enough for her to get through her sister’s engagement party with grace. Sophie’s feet were killing her and this damn dress made it hard to breathe, but she smiled serenely as if she was perfectly comfortable and enjoying herself.
The great hall in the heart of the wolves’ mountain hummed with people. Hollowed from the rock like the inside of husk, the hall was dark except for the candlelight flickering down from the chandeliers overhead and candlesticks in the center of the tables. The warm light bounced on the wine-filled glasses and winked from the jewelry dripping from every ear and neck. Only the finest was acceptable tonight and everyone crammed into the space had dressed accordingly. Silk and satin, powder and braids, adorned and cinched the highest of wolf/shifter society that night.
Sophie was suffocating. The mixed smells of the food and different types of perfume people wore was beginning to turn her stomach. Then there was the accursed noise. String music played by a quartette, she assumed was supposed to sound elegant, was a cringe-worthy resonance mixed with the clattering plates, chewing, swallowing, laughing, and talking non-stop. All of it was a perfect recipe for pain, at least for her. The sensory overload made her skin ache and her head throb.
Seated at the long table with her family, Sophie’s smile never faltered as people stared at her. Even if she didn’t see them looking, she felt it. Their gazes, whether they held judgment, admiration, or anything in between pressed down on her like a physical weight, hot and scratchy like a fur coat on a summer day.
Her gaze traveled down the length of the long table and settled on her parents. Beloved and respected, Shreve and Sabra worked tirelessly for their community. Through the years, as pack leader, her mother had turned wolf culture on its misogynistic head. And her father, being a shapeshifter and not a werewolf, had brought the displaced shifters into wolf society, giving them a community they severely lacked before. Proud of her heritage, Sophie pushed down her desire to escape the party, not wanting to do anything that embarrassed her parents.
Her gaze moved to her sister, Lacey. It was her engagement party after all. Sophie tried to look for the slightest inclination that her sister’s happiness was somehow false. She watched every little movement, every small touch and look between Lacey and her fiancé, Callen. She’d been doing this ever since they’d announced their intentions of mating.
Sophie looked back to her plate of untouched food and allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She might not like Callen all that much, but Lacey’s smiles were genuine.
“It must be embarrassing. Being passed up by your younger sister,” Aunt Myrna whispered loudly, leaning close, her corset groaning with the movement.
Sophie’s hands clenched and unclenched on her skirt as she turned her attention to her Uncle’s mate.
“Not at all,” she kept her voice modulated. “I’m very happy for them.”
Aunt Myrna waved her chubby hand dismissively. “Of course you would say so, even if you’re not… Twenty-two,” she tsked, shaking her head. “Almost an old maid. Your sister’s engagement must cause you terrible jealousy.”
Sophie could feel her eyes narrowing. She inhaled and forced her face back to its bland happy expression.
“I understand, sweetie. You can tell me the truth.”
As if you fat, old gossip. “I’m very happy for my sister. Who gets mated first is hardly something to compete over.”
Aunt Myrna smiled slyly and leaned closer. “It must be hard to be considered Princess-Wolf…I hear what people say about you. Everyone is so relieved you’re finally in your own relationship. I guess you were just holding out. And what a catch, I must say.” She winked dramatically. “If I was your age I’d be after that man, too. I hope you can convince him to mate with you. I’m rooting for you. There’s plenty of other young women trying to turn Tristan’s head, just so you know.” She turned back to her third plate of food.
Sophie took a drink of wine and then allowed herself another as a reward for coping with her aunt politely while her inner-self called her all kinds of bad names and smashed her puffy face into her plate. But her aunt’s words burrowed into her mind and she glanced around the great hall to see if she could spot Tristan.
He was at a nearby table, laughing and talking with his friends. Abruptly, he looked up as if she’d called his name. He smiled and winked one of his bright blue eyes at her. Her cheeks heated and she took another sip of wine. They hadn’t been together very long and she still felt off about it. Why did he want her? Aunt Myrna was right, he could have anyone. Sophie didn’t like all the attention that gravitated around him. She’d done nothing to entice him, but he’d pursued her relentlessly until she caved.
He told her how beautiful she was, that he thought perhaps he was falling in love with her, and that he wanted her body. But their relationship was still very new and his moods shifted rapidly, always keeping her off balance. He wasn’t the only guy to pursue her, but she’d always kept romance at arm’s length. She couldn’t let anyone that close. Intimacy was a terrifying prospect to a freak like her. No one could know about her abnormality. But Tristan was so adamant. He wore her down with his charm and persistence.
Sophie’s attention shifted to Jordan as he got up from his seat at the other end of the table and walked over to her. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he crawled up onto her lap. Her little brother rested his dark curly head on her shoulder and yawned again.
“I’m tired, Sophie. Can you take me home?”
“Sure, Jorgie.” Her inner-self jumped into the air with glee at the excuse to leave the party.
He scooted off her lap as she stood, adjusted her dress slightly and picked him up.
“Ugh, you’re getting too big for me to lift. Your feet almost hang to my knees.”
She carried him down to the end of the table and leaned over her mother’s shoulder. Sabra looked up at her concernedly then her expression smoothed and she smiled.
“He’s beat. I’m going to put him down if that’s okay.”
“Thank you. Are you coming back after he’s asleep?” Sabra asked.
“I’ll try, mom. If he goes to sleep quickly.”
“I won’t,” he whispered in her ear.
Sophie went to her sister and touched her on the shoulder as well. Lacey stood and kissed Sophie on the cheek.
“Is it okay? You won’t be hurt if I leave?”
Lacey smiled and shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I understand.”
“You look gorgeous, in case I didn’t tell you. Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you.”
Callen nodded to Sophie but said nothing. She headed toward the back of the hall and almost made it to the exit.
“Sophie! Wait!” Tristan called.
She sighed and patted Jorgie’s back. “Give me minute to get rid of him,” she whispered in his ear and put him down. He walked to the archway and plunked down on the bottom stair.
Tristan bounded up to her. “Where are you going?”
“I need to put my brother to bed.”
“You need to put me to bed,” he countered with a smirk.
She looked down, her cheeks heating.
“Are you coming back?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t wait for me.”
He kissed her hand, his black hair falling into his eyes. “But that’s what I do. I wait for you. It’s what I’ve done my whole life.”
“Please,” she rolled her eyes and tugged her hand out of his grasp.
He only moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. “I’m going out with the boys in a while anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow. Dream about me won’t you? Kiss me goodnight. I need it. You make me so crazy.”
She closed her eyes, trying to shake the weight of so many people looking at them. She hated this. If she did want to kiss him, she wanted it to be private. Nothing about this type of public display could ever be enjoyable to her. He seemed to relish it.
“I’m tired! I want my bear!” Jorgie whined loudly.
Sophie pushed out of Tristan’s arms and picked her brother up again. “Goodnight.” She said over her shoulder. “You’re really not that tired are you?” she asked as they went up the long, snaking stairs toward the top of the mountain.
“No.”
She tsked. “What does papa say about lies?”
“I had to rescue you,” he argued.
“From Tristan?”
“From the party.”
She kissed the side of his head. “You’re my hero.”
“I love you the best.”
Her heart flooded as he clung around her neck. “I love you the best, too. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who really sees me.”
“What do you mean? You’re not invisible. Or do you mean your true face?”
She chuckled. “I mean you see who I am. You understand me.”
He nodded seriously and rested his head back on her shoulder. "I wish I could see your true face. Is it very different from your regular face?"
She smiled "It's somewhat different. My eyes are green, just like yours in my true face, instead of brown. My hair is still mostly the same, wavy and dark brown but I have this odd blonde streak that frames my face in my true form. Weird, huh?"
"Blonde streak sounds cool," he said emphatically making her laugh. “Why can’t you show it to me?”
“Hasn’t anyone told you?”
He shook his head.
She sighed, weighing her words. “There is only one person in Regia who can see my true face, my destined life mate. If I have one, that is. If they exist and I ever meet them, they will see my true face and I will never be able to hide it from them.”
“Even if you shift?”
“Even if I shift. No matter what everyone else sees, my life mate will only see my true face. Understand?”
He nodded.
"What about you? What does your true face look like?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen it yet. I've tried. I stare at myself in the mirror when I'm alone but my reflection always stays the same," he whined.
"Ah well, maybe you're not old enough yet. You know you still have to go to bed when we get home? I told mom I was putting you to bed and I am a woman of my word, young man.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
“You’re not going to argue?”
“No. I had to save you from the party. It was worth it.” He kissed her cheek.
Darn, wonderful, sticky kid. She’d do anything for him.
She huffed it all the rest of the way and was thoroughly out of breath by the time she reached the huge double doors that led into their family home. Two guards stood stoically on either side. They nodded to her as she entered. She put Jorgie down and closed the doors behind her.
“Pajamas on now. I’ll come tuck you in.”
He charged to his room. She kicked off her shoes and closed her eyes, breathing deeply for the first time in hours. It would take her a while to decompress. She carried the party with her. The stress, the sensory overload, it clung to her skin like a thick grime. It’s over now. Let it go. Breathe. Nothing but that. Just breathe.
She picked up her shoes and crossed the main room to the far wall and up the narrow stone stairs leading to her room. Her room was more of a loft, and it was the highest living space in the whole mountain. Anxiously she unzipped her dress and slid out of it.
She stood naked in the very center of her darkened room, the pain still dragging on her skin like jagged talons. Moonlight spilled through her window, on and off in an inconsistent dance as the clouds shifted over the sky, blown by the wind. Berating herself always made her anxiety worse, but that damn voice in her head wouldn’t stop telling her what a disappointment, failure, and freak she was.
It’s over. Let it go.
She still felt everyone looking at her. The expectations she didn’t live up to was like a solid weight in their eyes. She couldn’t be her mom. If only. Her sister was almost a copy of their mother. But Lacey wasn’t the oldest. Sophie was. Princess-Wolf. That’s what the pack called her despite the fact there was no royalty in their society. They wanted her to be a fighter.
Tension layered down the muscles of her neck as her arms began to shake. The pressure was building. A familiar desire pushing under the surface. No. Not again. Don’t do it. She didn’t listen to her own advice. She stepped forward and stuck her index finger in a band of aquamarine moonlight. The light rippled like liquid around her finger and stuck to it. She pulled her hand back, the moonlight color sticking to her fingertip like paint. It was cool and refreshing like a breeze. Other light, other colors felt different. She rubbed it between her thumb and finger. The color changed, turned darker, tinged metallic as something of her own spirit mixed into the light. Morbid relief sighed into her core but shame and fear flooded her at the same time.
Why can’t I stop this?
She lifted her finger and wrote with the color. Hate. The word hung there as if she had finger-painted it on a pane of glass. As far as she knew no one else in all of Regia had this ability. That alone would have been enough for her to want to hide it. But that wasn’t all. This art was far from innocuous. An invisible force lived under the surface of everything she painted. It whispered darkness and spoke the language of shadows.
The word hanging before her moved the color pooling together in a circle. She should have grabbed it before it morphed, but the desire to see it change was stronger. It began twisting, the shape undulated, blob-like for a second then a shock went through it and it froze, razor-sharp spikes decorated the edges. It looked like a snowflake. She only knew one way to get rid of it. She had to reabsorb it.
Bracing herself, Sophie stepped forward into the art. It adhered to her chest, then it sank into her skin, cutting her as it went. She winced and bit down on her lips. The bleeding lines would heal quickly without leaving a scar. This was the worst part. Emotion bottled and pressurized inside her all the time. It had to come out sometimes. And yet when she tried to empty herself of the overflow, the relief was only momentary and then she had to take it back, swallow it. Sophie feared one day she’d just break open like a husk and the art inside her would bleed out like a plague.
She needed to finally work up the courage to tell her grandfather, Rahaxeris about this. He was the only one she could fathom even whispering the truth to. He was the only one she could think of that might be able to fix her abnormality.