Bride of the Sea-King Alpha

y

l actually notice your looks?" My oldest

r as my eyes redden

ntinues. "That filthy wolf will probably eat you

ls like solid lead. I meet Anastasia's gaze in my heart-shaped v

ells of raw sewage mixed with brine. Others say he is the most beautiful man in the world, with a physique so powerful no mortal man could ever best him. Bu

nose. "Of course he will. Did you really think you could marr

two years older than me, marches into the room, her golden hair flowing over he

ad at her only full-blooded sister

prepare her, thank y

s to me, her final word dripping with

grabbing my pearl-studded brush and

aken residence right above that lump in my belly. "She's a high princess, betrothed to the handsome Ethan Snowth

at, Lyra. Your mother is just as loved by our father as hers and mine was, maybe even more. And my m

ful countenance. Her sleek auburn hair is several shades darker than mine, which is more

unmistakable air of elegance. If one hadn't known my father had a former wife, the Queen Regant Amelia, it would be impossible n

. "She's been bothering he

r is just being prot

n she pins in my small tiara. She leans in and pats my shoulder. "You look b

dby

or to Ailsa, and moisture soon pools in my

fine. I've chosen my favorite gown for the trip, a soft lilac A-line with lace embroidery. She holds her gaze down

seen him?" I

n they were arranging your union." She bites her lip and contin

has hear

matter." She holds up her head, forcing her lips into a smile. "I'm sur

smile, but it's not his

enia cologne sweet and comforting. "I will miss you," she

at the wedding." It's a statement, not a question. Suc

will find my love." She pulls something from her pocket, a velvet box. "I want you to have this. It's from my mother, your g

he wraps it around me, fixin

sser, she dries my tears and adds a little more mascara

ess. "Mother, I'm twenty

a little girl to

rvants load the festively decorated wagons with a trunk of my belongings, along with several goods donated by

bride isn't enough of a prize fo

orchestra. "That goes in the carriage with my daughter," he tells a man with a s

the

be displayed in front of ours, so they identify the caravan as it approaches. Now, behi

to board the carria

he sprints over to a man carrying a wine barrel, insisting on having

oice pleasant yet sharpened with an edge

horses pulling it are some of the finest in our kingdom, bred to feature long, fluffy blond manes and wear

mercy of the wolf shift

d seat, and Ailsa jumps in for one last hug. "I'll w

as they close my carriage door. Through the small window, I se

ns handling the cargo trunks as my carriage pulls away. The few friends I've made in th

e and everything I've

ha, Cassian Oliver, living my life in

ive the f