Shifting Loyalties

by Patti Larsen

  Mom’s face fell. “You two are meant for each other,” she said. “I knew it even when you were infants, felt the connection between you. But Quaid has chosen another path. And you must do your best to find happiness.”

  I refused to cry over him anymore. “It’s not like I don’t have a selection to choose from.”

  She laughed at my joke. “You can have your pick of anyone, my darling daughter,” she said. “Choose wisely.” Mom’s expression shifted to serious. “Have you discussed it with Liam?”

  “He wants to be the one,” I said. Gulped down some water to douse the fire rising in my chest.

  “You need to talk about it.” Her eyes drifted to her wine. “I know he loves you, but does he fully understand what marrying you will mean for him?” One fingernail tinkled against the glass. “For your children?”

  “We haven’t yet,” I said. “But you don’t sound very optimistic about his answers. Does that mean you don’t approve of Liam either?” Funny, didn’t get my back up the way it used to, thinking he wasn’t a good match for me. Probably because I was finally accepting it was true.

  “Not at all,” Mom said. “I will support you no matter who you marry. But Syd, don’t jump into something out of need. Follow your heart. Promise me.”

  I nodded, leaned close to hug her. “I promise.” Part of me wanted to spill my guts, to talk into the night with her about how I felt for Liam, my longing for Quaid. But from the sad look on her face, the way her lips tightened and her shoulders, too, I knew she was thinking about her own love lost.

  When she looked up and met my eyes, though, she smiled. And that smile made me feel better about the whole mess.

  Now I just had to figure out what my heart actually wanted.

  Easy, right?

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Three

  I planned to go right home. But Mom’s prodding had me thinking and, finally, convinced me to stop being such a whiner and face the situation I’d created.

  That Liam and I made together.

  He looked surprised to see me when I pounded on his door, pushing past him and into his room, not even bothering to strip off my coat and scarf as I set my laptop bag on his bed and faced him.

  “We have to talk.”

  From his expression, sliding from surprise to worry, he’d been dreading this as much as I had. Except he sat, offering one hand, pulling me down into his lap where I sat, stiff and shivering from emotion and stress while he stroked my hair back from my face.

  “I know something has changed,” he said. “I can feel it, Syd. You aren’t the same with me as you were before you left.” He sighed and sat back, still holding my hand and me across his thighs. “Whatever it is, whatever you have to tell me, it’s okay.” Hazel eyes sparked with green. “But I want you to know, if there is someone else, I’m going to fight for you as long as you’ll let me.” A sweet grin, crooked and charming, broke across his face. “And even after you ask me to stop.”

  Oh, Liam. I hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder, tension leaving me as sadness took its place.

  “I just feel so trapped.” I hadn’t meant to whisper. Or to allow tears to rise. Stupid emotions. “And I don’t want to make a mistake. Everyone is watching, speculating. Offering their own opinions.”

  “And none of them include me.” Liam nodded before I could protest, so matter-of-fact I kissed his cheek softly in comfort. “I know your family doesn’t consider me your ideal choice.” He drew a breath before fixing me with a firm gaze. “I realize you would marry Quaid if he were free.” Choke. “That I’m probably at the bottom of the line when it comes to husband material, because of my heritage.” He bit his lower lip, the only sign of his distress. “And that you could have your pick of any witch here at college, anywhere, for that matter.”

  He wavered in front of me, my tears finally cresting.

  “But Syd,” he said, thumb swiping gently over the first of them to fall, “none of them love you like I do.” He pressed my hand to his chest, his heart thudding heavily under my fingers, earnestness pouring from every cell of his body. “Not one of them adores you, worships you. Will do anything, give anything, to be beside you.” He kissed me oh so softly. Breathed into my mouth. “Not like I do.”

  I didn’t think it was possible to melt. But I was melting, my insides giving way, my resistance caving in to the absolute sweetness of the handsome, loving man who held me in his arms.

  “No matter what comes,” he said, “what trials we face in the future, I will always be here for you, Syd. Always.”

  I kissed him back, not with the heat of passion, but the tenderness of real love.

  “I’ll have to leave you alone a lot,” I said. “You’ll be left behind, Liam. I have a job to do and you know I’ll be in danger.” Okay, so that wasn’t new. His eyes told me as much. “And I’m more powerful than you.” Hit him in his ego, nice work. But Liam didn’t flinch.

  “I’ve always known that,” he said. “I’m not envious. Just proud.”

  “What about your education?” He’d talked about staying a few more years, maybe becoming a teacher himself, working at Harvard. “You’d have to give that up to look after our kids.” Gulp. “The family.”

  “I have the archive,” he said. “And teaching is highly overrated.”

  Sounded like he had an answer for everything.

  But were they the answers I was looking for?

  Liam stood, setting me on my feet while I hung my head, misery winning over even his sweet nature.

  “I won’t push you,” he said, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “But now that I’ve had a taste of you, of what our lives could be like… Syd, I won’t let that go easily.” I forced myself to look up and meet his gaze. “I may not be perfect for you, but I’ll be the best husband I can possibly be.”

  I bobbed a nod, not sure what to say.

  If I could speak, even.

  “So,” he said, hands going into his back pockets as though to keep himself from touching me, “where do we go from here?” He rocked on his heels. “Are we still dating or do you need space?”

  It wasn’t fair to him not to give an answer.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess… we see what happens.”

  Coward.

  I left him then, after a firm hug and his whispered "I love you" tickling my ear. The dark embraced me as I stepped out into the Yard and began my trudge home. I could have ridden the veil to my dorm, but I needed the walk to clear my head and weigh options.

  Why, if I thought Liam wasn’t right for me, was I having such a hard time letting go? I paused as I slammed into the answer like someone hit me in the face.

  He was family. And I couldn’t just push him aside. My loyalty, ingrained into me my entire life, tempered by the last few years and all the disasters I’d survived, only strengthened my need to protect those I cared about.

  Even from myself. When I was the enemy.

  But did that mean I was done? That Liam and I were over? No matter how I rationalized my reaction to him, I still couldn’t bring myself to believe my hyperactive protectiveness was the only reason. I did love him. Loved how we were together.

  Could I picture him as my husband or not?

  Sighing into the cold air, I resumed walking and beating myself up.

  It had snowed all day, fresh paths carved out of the heavy white stuff, weighing down the branches of the trees. I paused part way home and looked around at the crystal night sky with the pinpoints of stars just visible beyond the glare of the lights in the Yard. The waning moon casting its cold glare over the snow. Beautiful. Quiet. Everyone was inside, leaving me alone in the silence of the winter night.

  Almost alone.

  I knew the sound of that giggle, the squeak of boots on frosted stone. I turned to find Kristophe and Jean Marc approaching, smirks on their ugly Dumont faces.

  Rage bubbled, rage for Charlotte and her people, for all those years of their humiliation, for centu
ries of enslavement. My magic burned inside me, ready to tear them apart.

  Just push me, asshats. See how far your posing and position will take you.

  To the curb. You betcha.

  They came to a halt a few feet from me, under a light so Kristophe could pull one of his model poses and show off his pretty, long hair.

  Charming.

  “What a pity,” Kristophe said with a duck-lip mew. “It seems your Sidhe bodyguard has run off, too.” He rolled his eyes at his brother. “Pity how she can’t seem to hang on to the help.”

  “Must be something they smelled.” Jean Marc's heavy brows pulled together.

  Kristophe tittered, one gloved hand placed artfully over his generous mouth.

  “If that was supposed to hurt my feelings,” I said, “you failed miserably. Just like at everything else the Dumont family tries to do.”

  And snap.

  They both looked shocked by my response, then a little afraid. Well, hell yeah. They should be afraid of me, the nasty little weasels.

  Hang on. I wasn't that scary. Not enough they both backed off a step. Moved closer to each other, mouths hanging open.

  “Hello, Jean Marc.” A familiar voice drifted over my right shoulder, light and sweet in the stillness of the dark. “And my very dear Kristophe.” Charlotte came to stand next to me, a deliciously pert smile on her face. “How lovely to see you both again under such auspicious circumstances.”

  Neither of them said a word as I gaped at her right along with them.

  “I've been looking forward to our reunion.” She drifted closer to the brothers, her power humming around her, reaching for them and not in a pleasant way.

  “Back off, werewolf.” Jean Marc's attempt at bravado fell so flat even he winced.

  Charlotte's laugh tinkled in the cold air. “I'll allow you that one slip,” she said, magic pulsing with fire and the thrum of the earth. “For old time's sake.” The way she said it, the burst of fear on their faces, made me wonder just what they had done to her all those years she was their slave. Reminded me of Kristophe’s parting remark about the lessons he taught her. “But from now on, you can address me as 'Your Highness'.”

  Can I get a whoop-whoop?

  The brothers exchanged a look before backing off another step. A stride, really.

  Charlotte cocked her head to the side. “What, going so soon? We have so much to catch up on. And I have so much to repay you.”

  I giggled into my hands as the pair turned their yellow bellies and ran like rabbits.

  Charlotte turned back to me, a huge smile on her face. “That,” she said, “was very satisfying.”

  “I bet.” I hugged her hard, her arms winding around me. “Missed you.”

  “You too.” Charlotte leaned back, teeth flashing as she grinned at me. “You look wonderful.”

  I always adored Charlotte, but this new version was even more awesome. “You too. How are things going back home?”

  She shrugged, linking her arm in mine, turning me toward my dorm. “Fine, I suppose. But my life is much better,” she said with a quaver in her happy voice. “Now that I'm back where I belong.”

  Um, what? I stopped us dead, staring again. Charlotte bounced on her toes, her excitement as clear as a kid's at Christmas. “Silly,” she said, tears in her beautiful eyes, “what family did you think I was talking about when we had that conversation?”

  I couldn't stop the sob that burst from me as I hugged her again.

  “I might be heir,” she whispered as we both laughed and cried in the snowy night. “But you are my real family.”

  I pulled back from her, wiping at my wet cheeks. “On one condition,” I said.

  “Name it.” Her mittens dried her own face.

  “No more bodywere.” I hooked my arm through hers as she'd done to me just a moment earlier.

  She smiled. Nodded.

  “Friends,” we said together. I forgot Liam, my obligations, the upcoming wedding, my battle with the Brotherhood. Charlotte was home.

  Charlotte was home.

  We laughed our way back to my dorm to tell Shenka the good news.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Four

  And life, as complicated as it was, went on.

  And on.

  The Steam Union never did uncover Vasyl, so I figured he'd show up again when I least expected. Because, yeah. That was the way things rolled for me.

  Piers went to great lengths to keep me up to date on the trial of the Black Souls and the continuing Vasyl hunt, though, so he had lots of opportunities to just show up and make himself available. With lots of suggestive comments and kissing thrown in for good measure.

  At least I'd managed to keep him from running into Liam. So far. Wasn't looking forward to that disaster if it ever happened.

  I’d seen jealous Liam before, and it wasn’t a performance I wanted him to repeat.

  The worst part was I knew I could send Piers away at any time. But I didn't want to. And that made me a truly wretched human being and a despicable girlfriend. Though I wasn't much of the latter lately, to my credit. Despite our conversation, his assurance he would never stop trying, I pulled away from Liam completely, at least when it came to a physical relationship. A hasty decision was the last thing I needed. He didn’t like it, but, in typical Liam fashion, he didn’t complain. Stopped hovering after a few weeks. Gave me my space, though the tragic and hurt looks I caught on his face from time to time nearly drove me into his arms to comfort him.

  Which would have been a massive mistake. Comforting would have led to kissing and kissing to… well. As much as the memory of the lovely weekend we spent together made me tingle all over when I let my mind linger on it, I was still so at odds with myself, the stress giving me almost constant heartburn, I actually walked in the opposite direction sometimes when I saw him approaching just so I didn’t have to fake a smile and pretend at friendship.

  I missed him. I loved him. But I couldn’t go there yet.

  I felt like now I'd experience what life would be with him I had to reexamine my preconceived notions of what marriage to him would be like.

  And I wasn't sure I was in love with that picture.

  Yes, it meant I was doing exactly to him what Quaid had done to me. Guilty. Which made me empathize with Quaid.

  Damn him.

  As for Piers, he was hot, available and he wanted me. I didn't love him—at least, not yet—but did that matter?

  Sigh.

  On a happier couple note, Isabelle and her wereboy, Maksym, were together at last. She was allowed to handle her father’s body, Sunny not caring really what happened to Yure now he was dead. I did hear rumblings of resentment from her werewolves about it. There were a few suggestions floating around about desecrating his body. And while I understood their anger and need for some semblance of revenge, Charlotte firmly put an end to the simmering anger by tromping on toes.

  Hard.

  And was kind enough to bring me with her to watch the show.

  She was so considerate like that.

  After Sunny invited the werewolf to live in Austria with his vampire girlfriend, Maksym accepted, a few of his friends choosing to go with him. Though, from what Charlotte told me, Oleksander wasn't exactly happy about the vampire queen poaching some of his people so soon after their liberation.

  At least now that the connection to sorcery was broken, the natural animosity between werewolves and vampires had disappeared. Not that it canceled out years of racism. But at least werewolves and vampires could occupy the same room and not try to kill each other.

  As often.

  I knew it would take a lot for the werewolves to adjust their attitudes. They'd been trained as bullies and such training would be hard to break. But Oleksander ruled with a steel fist and a good heart, Charlotte their idol they adored and worshiped, so I had faith the werewolves would be all right.

  My one instance I was invited to be a werewolf/vampire mediator, held on common ground at
the old coven site in Wilding Springs, went much better than I expected with only minimal shouting and accusations on both sides, so I counted it a win.

  And would never do it again.

  It became obvious someone was still running the Russian mafia, so I felt sure the Brotherhood had their hands deeper in Yure's pies than he'd known. I let things ride, not like I could do much, anyway. With Applegate firmly closing her borders to all witches and prodding Mom almost constantly about my continuing visits to Europe, I knew it would be a long time before the Brotherhood would be ousted from her territory.

  If ever.

  Charlotte and I returned to her home quite frequently, and openly. I refused to cloak my power despite Applegate’s boundaries, and knew it had to be burning away at Liander Belaisle he couldn't do a thing about it. But Charlotte had to be available. She was still princess, after all, and doing an excellent job. All the werewolves looked up to her so much I couldn't help but grin like a proud momma.

  Like I had something to do with how awesome she'd turned out.

  Mom told me Applegate finally gave up trying to stop me from crossing her territory using official channels and to watch my back. Like I didn't already. Between the two of us, we were keeping a close eye on all sorcery. It became commonplace for me to sweep any room I entered just in case.

  Nervous times.

  I ran into Mia occasionally, my worry for her taking a side seat to everything else. But her growing fanaticism and clear instability made me feel nervous.

  And guilty.

  Weirdly, Shenka treated the former Dumont with something close to disgust whenever she showed up. I was shocked at first. My second seemed so level headed and acted kindly toward everyone. But there was something rubbing her the wrong way when it came to my old Goth friend.

  I let it pass. We had more important things to think about than one damaged witch girl.

  Like the fact we only had three months of school left. And then I graduated college. Moved home for good. Had my—gulp—twenty-first birthday.