Werewolves of Sweetspire

Princess Cora of Bitterleaf has only one name for this particular footman. She gave Footman Duck Face that nickname when she was nine, for no other reason than the fact that he looks like a duck: small eyes, a large nose, and quite large lips. His stomach is round, and he walks with a waddle, which Cora learned later is due to a hip issue.

Footman Duck Face stands in front of the door leading from her suite to the hallway of her home. He wears the typical copper-colored jacket, cream tights, and gold shoes. A uniform that only reinforces his given name.

“The carriage is being pulled around.” Duck Face is normally as snooty as they came, but today, he a bit of sadness hides in his eyes and some compassion softens in his voice. “Poppy is on her way to help you pack.”

Cora stands on the other side of the front room, eyes on the gold framed mirror as she braids her long black hair. She has already braided it and brushed it out twice now. She stops at his mention of her former nurse.

“Poppy?” Cora looks at Duck Face. She really should have learned his actual name, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She is leaving today and never coming back. If she did, it would be for a brief visit with her arranged husband at her side.

The husband she is going to be married to by the end of the week. A prince, actually. Prince Atlas of Sweetspire.

Duck Face nods. “Yes. She…insisted.”

Cora doesn’t stop her smile. “That’s Poppy.”

Poppy is closest thing the only princess of Bitterleaf has to a mother. Cora never knew her mother. She asked questions to her father and her teachers, but she was never told anything. She eventually began to wonder if she was adopted, since she could find no reason a woman would want to be married to a man like Cora’s father.

King Sampson is a beast of a man. Short, wide, a natural scowl on his lips, and eyebrows that always seems furrowed in displeasure. There was more than one morning at breakfast that Cora would swear Sampson looked displeased at the very fact that, once again, the earth revolved around the sun and a new day dawned.

Cora refers to her father by his first name in private and his title in public. He is far more of a stranger to her.

Poppy, on the other hand, she was everything a girl could want in a mother—always there with an encouraging word, a hug, a reassuring smile, and a tissue. Cora’s favorite things to do, as she got older, was read books with her nurse. When Poppy taught her how to read, they enjoyed reading books together every day. As Cora got older, the books got thicker and heavier and about topics that were more than just the history and politics of Bitterleaf. Some books were fairytales. Some were about werewolves and scarier mythical creatures, but those were the ones Cora had to hide in her room, where Poppy wasn’t allowed. Poppy didn’t like Cora reading about scary things.

The woman herself pushes Duck Face out of the way. Short, slender, and with frazzled gray hair, she marches into Cora’s suite. “The nerve of those men.”

Poppy plants her hands on her hips as she glares up at Duck Face. He has a good six-to-eight inches on her. “You, go downstairs and make sure those idiots don’t make a bigger mess of things than they already are.”

“What has happened, Poppy?” Cora asked, staying by the mirror.

“They thought those horses didn’t need new horseshoes for this. It’s a day’s journey one way, for goodness’ sake! ‘We’ll change them when we get there.’” Poppy mocks one of the men on the last sentence. “Idiots. All men are fools, Cora.”

Cora smiled. “Even Henry?”

“Especially Henry. I made him help the stable boys.” Poppy does a double take at Duck Face. “Why are you still here?”

Duck Face, having never seen Poppy in such a tiff before, looks startled. He blinks a few times then looks at Cora, who is the one who should really dismiss him because she has the highest rank in the room.

Cora mouths, “Go.”

He gave a bow then fled.

“Where is your luggage?” Poppy squabbles around the hall.

Cora goes back to her braid.

“You are traveling, and you have not packed a thing.” Poppy grumbles as she walks down the hall, toward Cora’s room. Her voice is muffled by the distance. “I taught you better than this.”

Cora knows what Poppy is doing, keeping herself busy. Cora is doing the same with the braid, distracting herself from the upcoming goodbye.

Poppy’s steps are heavy as she comes back down the hall.

“Where is your luggage?” She doesn’t stop until she is right beside Cora.

Cora is five-foot-four. The only person in this entire palace who is shorter than her is Poppy.

“There on the couch,” Cora says into the mirror.

Poppy storms across the room. The reflection shows Poppy throwing open the suitcase then stopping. The dynamite has some water poured on it. Poppy’s hand raises to her cover her wobbling mouth.

Cora goes to her then, a handkerchief in hand.

“From what I have heard about Queen Harriet, she will make sure I am provided for.” Cora smiles at the five books in the suitcase. They are the favorite ones she read with Poppy over the years. They are the stories that, when she reads them, she feels like she is home. “But I will not find these in the Sweetspire library. I am sure of it.”

Poppy grabs Cora into a hug, surely to hide her tears. Cora knew for four days that this was the day she would leave for Sweetspire. She spent every minute, most of them anyway, dreading this very goodbye.

Poppy leans back. Her eyes are full of tears, which spill onto her cheeks. Her lips form the smile that has made Cora feel loved more than once over the years. It isn’t a feeling she has very often, but she always feels it when she is around Poppy. Always.

Poppy places a feather-soft hand on Cora’s cheek. “My darling angel…look at you. All grown up and getting married.”

Cora’s eyes fall to one of the books. The books are stacked atop some shawls and a couple pairs of shoes. A dressmaker from Sweetspire just left, moments before Poppy arrived.

Cora knew she was from Sweetspire because of the way she held herself, the immaculate condition of her clothes, and the fact that she smelled very wealthy. Cora almost thought her a Sweetspire aristocrat, but seeing as the girl was chipper and happy as she maneuvered her measuring tape, she talked all about her trade and how she would make gorgeous things to fit Cora’s perfectly slender figure.

Cora spent the entire time blushing. She never had so many compliments said about her. The girl seemed too innocent to be saying all of those things simply to say them. They were genuine.

Cora picks up the book. “I had been hoping for a fairytale, like the one in this book. All I know of Prince Atlas is that he is two years older than I am and that he has a little brother. And—”

“And what, my darling?” Poppy asks with a tone that says they have all the time in the world.

Cora sucks in her lips. She almost doesn’t say it. She really shouldn’t. She should just say it. “You have heard the rumors, too, haven’t you? About…the Sweetspire royal family and their…um…power?”

Poppy frowns. Not in disappointment, but rather like she knows exactly what power means. She sets the book down and takes Cora’s hands. “Don’t you worry about that, darling.”

“I am worried about it. I’ve heard those whispers so many times that I’ve started to believe it’s true.” Cora lets out a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Poppy, I’m going to be marrying into a family of werewolves. Will I give birth to a litter or to a human baby? Does the family travel everywhere together, like packs? Do they hunt their own food?”

“Darling.”

“If they do not like me, do I become their prey? Will they set me loose on the grounds and hunt me? Maybe I should carry an extra bottle of perfume to throw off the scent.”

“Cora.”

Cora disengages and heads for the room door. “I should go to the library, see if there is a map of Sweetspire palace grounds. I could find a stream. Dogs lose scent in water, correct?”

She doubles back for the closet. “I will need a change of clothes. Pants, preferably. They are far easier to run in, and they won’t snag on branches and—”

Poppy grabs Cora’s wrist firmly. “Cora! Stop. Breathe.”

Breathe. Good idea. Exhale. Right.

Poppy waits until Cora calms and frowns again. “I am afraid I do not have any concrete answers. We have all heard the whispers.”

She sighs again.

“I tried to protect you from that as a child. When I knew you had been arranged with Prince Atlas…by then, you had already read about werewolves.”

“You knew?”

Poppy gives her a look only a mother would give her daughter. “Do you know how many things I let you get away with?”

Cora really hates that word. Let. She puts on a smug facade, to look brave, then quickly feels guilty thinking of all the things she thought she got away with.

Poppy just laughs and squeezes Cora’s hand. “You were so much like the daughter I never had. I do not know what I shall do without you.”

“I feel the same. You and Henry both…” Cora’s chin quivers. She hugs Poppy this time. “I shall miss you the most.”

“Not nearly as much as we will miss you.”

They hold each other for a long moment. Poppy leans back first. She has the handkerchief now, the one with Cora’s initials embroidered in them. She wipes her own cheeks then dabs Cora’s.

“I have officially done my job. I have raised you from a girl into a beautiful woman. But…and if I may be so bold to say…a mother’s work is never done.”

Cora laughs. “You are in the right to say that. I shall write.”

“You better. Or I shall come there and be worse than any of those wolves.”

They walk together out of her room, talking of fond memories to keep her smiling and laughing. Cora will not miss Bitterleaf Palace. Her father charges an immense amount of taxes. None of it is used on decorations. The stone halls are plain, as is the furniture, both in the hallways and in the individual rooms. The rooms contain the barest amount of furniture.

Cora isn’t sure where the money goes. King Sampson has a strong affinity for fine spirits, but surely, not all his funds go to liquor.

Even the hallways are bare. A few paintings hang on the walls, and even those are of King Sampson or his family.

Cora looked at these photos many times. Once, she took an entire morning studying each one thoroughly. She could not find one king or queen that she looked like. They were handsome men and women. Or at least, they would be if they didn’t all scowl. Even the children did. It was like they, too, were upset that life continued day after day after day.

King Sampson was always upset over things he would never have in his control. Like the sun or time.

Cora made a joke at breakfast one time, back when she and the king ate together, that she was adopted. He kept his eyes on the morning report and did not respond. He hardly ever did. Cora figured that he wouldn’t miss her if she stopped coming, so she did just that. She took all her meals by herself, and after she outgrew the need for a nurse, books became her company of choice.

Cora could always be found with her nose in a book. She isn’t picky. She can’t be. When one is lonely enough, one can’t possess standards for friends.

Cora turns to Poppy as they finish the last set of stairs. Even the carpeted runners are the dullest shade of red. “Is there a reason my father did not come to tell me today was the day?”

“He did not?”

“No.”

“How did you learn?”

“I was in my corner in the library. Two maids came in to clean. They did not see me. They were gossiping about my leaving.”

Poppy frowns, creasing the roundness of her cheeks. “That is not how you should have learned something like this. What did they look like?”

Cora swears her nurse growled.

“I only heard their voices. If I had moved to take a peek at them, they would have seen me.” Cora slips her arm through Poppy’s. If she said more, Poppy would figure it out. The woman had been here for over twenty years after all. “What do you know of Prince Atlas?”

“He has brown hair, green eyes, and he is tall.”

Cora rolls her eyes. “A true knight in shining armor.”

Poppy laughs at her sarcasm. “I did chat with some servant girls from Sweetspire once, a couple of years ago. I asked about the prince, since I knew you had been arranged with him.”

Cora leans in closer. She loves gossip. “What did you find out?”

Poppy whispers, although she has no reason to, of course, but gossiping, even gossip that is two years old and probably outdated, makes one naturally begin to whisper. “Well, at the time he was supposedly connected with this girl named…what was it…Brittany?”

“That is an odd name.”

“I don’t remember her name. It began with a b. I did not care about that, so I changed the conversation to—”

“Poppy! You did not care if the man I was betrothed to was falling in love with another girl?”

Poppy flips her hand as if dismissing Cora’s concern. “If he fell in love with her, he would have married her.”

“People do not always marry for love.” Cora mutters under her breath.

“A Sweetspire prince does. They marry for love and marry for life. They are legendary for it.”

Some deep part of Cora’s soul, the part that still feels like a girl who wants a fairytale, pushes the corners of her lips up into a smile. It sounds like a wonderful thing. To marry for love and marry for life.

Sweetspire sounds like the place where fairytales come true.

Cora raises a brow at her nurse.

“To what did you change the conversation?” This entire discussion is like something they have done hundreds of times before. Poppy is one of Cora’s deepest friends.

“I asked how he treated his mother. Everything you need to know about a man is revealed in how he talks about his mother.”

“What did you learn?”

Poppy gives Cora a reassuring smile.

“You are in good hands, my dear. Very good hands.” She squeezes Cora’s elbow. “Not as good as mine, of course.”

“Of course.”

They share funny memories until the double doors are in sight. The west entrance of the palace is the only entrance big enough to hold a carriage and two horses. And the carriage is waiting, with horses that are sure to have brand new shoes on their hoofs.

Nothing is worse than Poppy’s wrath. Cora knows that better than anyone.

Cora comes to a halt when she sees the man among the group of those on the stairs, ready to say their goodbyes to their princess. King Sampson stands closest to the doors, like he has only just arrived.

Cora turns to Poppy. “I will write when I arrive.”

Poppy’s eyes are full of pride and an eternal sort of love. “Write more than that.”

“If the rumors are true…”

Poppy hugs her a little too tightly. “If you ever feel unsafe, even once, you come back immediately. You do not stop until you come to the cottage that Henry and I live in.”

Cora wants to run there now. She doesn’t want this. She wants to hide in that cottage, throw a blanket over her head like a child, and pretend like that made her invisible. It didn’t work when she was a girl, and she is positive it won’t work now, but at least, she would still be in the company of a couple who love her to tears.

“I will,” Cora says. “I know right where it is.”

Poppy knows that as a princess, Cora’s place should be the palace. But in that cottage, Cora felt loved. Poppy must know that as well, hence the invitation to go there instead of back to her childhood home.

Poppy takes a step back then curtsies, raising the volume of her voice. “Safe travels, Your Highness.”

Cora moves next to Henry, her tutor and second dearest friend. He is the one who introduced her to philosophy and politics but failed to help her understand arithmetic.

With the king nearby, Henry just bows. “We shall miss you, Your Highness. The castle will be dimmer without your smile.”

His eyes shine with affection.

Damn the king.

Cora takes her tutor’s hands and raises on her toes to kiss his cheek. She whispers into his ear, “Your wife knows.”

When she leans back, he looks quite perplexed.

“She knows about our adventures.”

Then he realizes what she means, and he looks at Poppy in surprise. He is the reason for most of those things Cora once thought she got away with. Henry instilled in Cora a love for adventure.

He gives Cora a reassuring smile. “She does know everything.”

“You know everything.” Cora smiles in return.

Henry mock whispers behind his hand. “Do not tell her that.”

The next goodbyes are to her two maids. They are not as difficult to part with since they have only been her maids for a couple of months.

Cora steps down the stairs, right next to Duck Face. She closes her eyes in thought. She should say goodbye to him. He has done the very least he could do by giving her a roof over her head for the past twenty-one-years. And Poppy had said she was being given to a man who treated his mother well and would, therefore, treat her well. Surely King Sampson had some part to play in that.

Cora turns to the stranger standing at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t look sad that she is going. He isn’t smiling to hide the fact that he is ready to cry, like Henry is doing. He is…like always…expressionless.

Cora curtsies. That is all she will give him. The bare minimum. She turns. A footman already has the door opened. Duck Face puts out his hand to help her into the carriage.

Cora arches a brow at his white gloved hand. “Those gloves are from Sweetspire, surely the cheapest tailor. I truly expected better from you.”

He looks at his glove, a bit insulted, then up at her to see her smiling. His features relax.

“You have taught me some things, Footman Du-”

He chuckles after she stops her words. “I know some things as well, Princess Hardback.”

Cora narrows her eyes at him. “I hope you are referring to books.”

She takes his hand as she steps into the carriage.

The door is closed, and she gives one final wave to Poppy, then the carriage is moving. It isn’t until the palace is fully behind her, when she could not see her friends, that Cora weeps.

The countryside of Bitterleaf shows just how high the king’s taxes are. Even going through the village, with its dull colored buildings and tired windows, Cora just feels sad.

She has never felt sad in this village before. But she is now looking at it through the eyes of someone who might never come back. Amazing how it gives her a new set of eyes.

Cora hates how sad and poor this village looks. Not just the village but also its people. They wear the same scowls as their king. Cora wanted to help, but Father never let her leave the palace unless he was with her. When he was, he was not a welcome face to see. It was clear the people did not like their king and did not like her because she was associated with him.

All the more reason she made friends with books.

In the country, the farm fields hold some grazing cows. There is not much livestock for Cora to admire. Many pigs and cows have been sold to help pay taxes or given in place of money. She despises how destitute Bitterleaf is.

The roads are too bumpy for Cora to read a book. She stares out the window. Even the clouds around Bitterleaf are never fully white. They seem to take in the people’s sadness, so they remain a light gray, or they stay away. Henry taught her that if it was a cloudless sky, there would be rain in the next couple of days. He had been right every time.

It rains a lot in Bitterleaf.

They enter a patch of road bordered by a small collection of trees, which have the smallest and saddest leaves. The brown leaves are curled up on themselves, as if crossing their arms in bitterness about their present condition.

Cora lets her mind go to her destination. What are the clouds of Sweetspire like? Are they white and puffy like cotton? What about the leaves? Are they as bright green as the ones in the fairytale books?

Cora has done some research on the Sweetspire royal family. She hasn’t had time to go in depth, but she knows the basics.

King Elijah and Queen Harriet have been married for twenty-five years. They have two sons, Atlas and Titan.

Fifty-three-year-old King Elijah has been king for only fifteen years, after the death of King Stephen. Cora hoped to find it mysterious and sudden, and therefore, possibly done by werewolves, but the man was stricken by a fever after a long walk in the rain and never recovered. His wife, Queen Charlotte, died years before. The mystery surrounding that had been only that she went to bed complaining of a severe headache and never woke up.

Cora was disappointed that both former monarchs of Sweetspire did not die of werewolf related instances, then she felt awful for her reaction. Cora never had grandparents.

Through the trees and over a hill, Cora recognizes where they are. She could dive out of the carriage and run at full speed and be at Poppy’s cottage in no time.

Cora stays in the carriage. Since she was little, all she wanted a fairytale of a love story. She might be naïve, but she doesn’t know anything else about romantic love. It is supposed to be this all-of-a-sudden, breath-capturing moment, where she will immediately know that this is the prince for her. He will be tall, strong, and handsome. His eyes will be kind and his smile will be wonderful.

Cora smiles at her daydream. She lets it play on. They will have the perfect first dance at a party, the most magical wedding day where she wears the most beautiful dress, and everyone will be smiling at the couple.

And Cora will know that she has done something right.

There aren’t a lot of those moments.

Even when she received good marks from Henry and Poppy on her assignments, Sampson didn’t care. He would look up from his work, glance at her assignment, and say, “Well done.” But it might be a grumble, he would hand her paper back to her, then continue to do whatever he had been doing.

Henry or Poppy would guide her out of Sampson’s study.

When they were far enough away, Cora would cry.

He didn’t even look. He didn’t even care. Cora eventually realized that he never would, so she stopped going to his office. She stopped caring about what her father thought of her.

Cora sighs. Her heart aches. Who is she kidding? She does care. She hates that all he did in response to her curtsey was nod his head. There was no emotion on his face, no sign that he might miss her, no insistence that she write whenever she could.

There was nothing. There was nothing then, like there had been nothing for her entire life.

Cora shakes her head. It doesn’t matter anymore. She will never see him again. And she will have a new father.

Cora closes her eyes. What if King Elijah is just as cold as Sampson? What if all of them are, and once again, Cora is left with books as her friends?

What a lonely life that would be.

She doesn’t want a lonely life. Not anymore. She wants a family. She wants a mother. She wants a husband who adores her and a little brother to pick on. Cora wants to live every day waking up to a man who absolutely, positively adores her. One day, she wants to have that man’s children.

Above all of that, Cora wants to laugh.

Cora lets her fantasy play out for a little bit longer, until she finally decides there is nothing better to do than sleep. They started this journey right after breakfast. If they kept this steady pace, nothing went awry, and with a short stop for an afternoon meal, they will reach Sweetspire Castle before sunset.

Cora wakes when the carriage stops. They are at a village halfway between Bitterleaf and Sweetspire. She eats a meal at an inn while the footman tends to the horses. He comes in as the innkeeper takes away her empty plate. The stew and bread was just what Cora needed.

“I am sorry, Your Highness, but there will be a small delay. There is a loose axel on the back wheels. I need to fix it before we continue on. It should not take long.”

Cora offers the man a patient smile.

“I am in no hurry. Take all the time you need.” She looks at the young maid who has been helping the innkeeper. “May I have a cup of tea to sip on while I read my book? Please also pack some bread and fruit for my footman. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The young maid curtsies and scurries away.

The footman suddenly seems a bit shy. “Thank you, ma’am. That was not necessary.”

“Yes, it was.” Cora replies firmly but sweetly. Poppy taught her how to do that. The man nods politely, his eyes saying he is grateful, then he leaves.

They are back on the road within the hour. The footman cannot find the supplies he needs in the village, so he fixes it with some basic supplies that will hold the axle in place until they get to Sweetspire.

An hour away from arriving, after their last break for the footman and Cora to take care of personal business, she insists on sitting on the bench beside him. She is lonely in the carriage and quite bored since the roads have been too bumpy and winding for her to read for very long without getting queasy.

“Have you been to Sweetspire before?” Cora asks once they start moving again.

“A couple of times, ma’am.”

“What did you think of it?”

The footman is an older gentleman with kind eyes. “It was a lovely place to be.”

“Are the people happy there?”

“They are.”

Cora examines her fingers. “They are not happy in Bitterleaf.”

He gives her no response.

“You do not have to be nice on my account. I know my father is a terrible man.”

The footman’s features round with surprise. “I did not say that.”

“I did. Even if you had, I would not tell. It would not matter.” Cora breathes in the fresh air. The carriage got stuffy. “I am not going back. I am to be married, you know?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know.”

“Have you met the prince? Prince Atlas, I mean.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do…do you know of any wolf sightings in Sweetspire? Did you have any yourself?”

“No, ma’am.”

Cora crosses her arms and pouts. “I thought you would be useful for better conversation.”

They sit quietly again for some time.

“Do you also call me Princess Hardback?”

The saucers his eyes become says it all. He clears his throat. “No, ma’am.”

“You are lying.”

He smiles, and she laughs. “Do all the footman call me that?”

“We always see you with your nose in a book, Your Highness. I recognized the book you were reading back at the inn. It is one of my favorites.”

Cora gasps and grins. “You read philosophy? Poppy found it utterly boring. Henry and I could discuss it for hours. We used to debate just to annoy Poppy. Even when she left, claiming she had better things to do, we could continue.”

They discuss the book until Sweetspire Castle is in sight. Even with the sun setting, even though they had yet to reach the village, Cora knows she is going to love Sweetspire.

Because all the leaves on the trees are large, bright, and green.