by Patti Larsen
“So your grandfather said.” Andre's hand falls on Caine's shoulder. For a moment, the wereleader's face flashes disgust, but it's gone quickly. Still, I smell his annoyance and dislike and wonder what is really going on between these two. Roman and Viveca appear behind them, a few others of Caine's pack filling the hall, blocking the front exit. That only leaves the back way. Can I be optimistic and believe Caine doesn't have people watching the rear?
Don't be a fool, Charlotte. You know he does.
“You've pushed matters further than you should have.” I ignore Andre in favor of Caine. If I can eliminate one problem, I can deal with the rest. My wolf calmly compartmentalizes my issues, helping me relax into my next move. “The Makosky family is our ally, not your plaything, nor will your claims of fighting back in self-defense get you anywhere with me or your king. We know them far better and trust them more than we ever will you.” I gesture at Nataliya, doing my best to keep magic related language out of my conversation. “Considering Nataliya and Fedir have been kind enough not to summon the authorities to deal with you, I would think you would tread lightly, Caine.”
He flashes his teeth at me, flexing his muscles as though to impress me. I'm not impressed, not even a little.
“I do what I want,” he says. “Princess. You can tell your grandfather,” he layers the word with derogatory bile, “the next time he comes after me, he'd better kill me.”
“I wouldn't trouble him with taking out your brand of trash,” I snarl. And stop, realizing I'm pushing things past where I want them to go. A fight here, now, would expose Sage to the truth. I have to shield him, if I can. His ignorance is his only means of complete escape. If anyone thought he knew who and what we really are... his mind—and possibly his life—would be wiped out.
I turn quickly to Maks, see his distress. Take Sage. I send the words as powerfully as I can. Maksym's magic isn't strong and he has trouble hearing me. But Isabelle's doesn’t and she nods, grasping Maks by the arm, taking Sage's in the other. Caine watches them retreat, Sage struggling a little with Isabelle, hissing whispers at her. Keep him safe.
We'll do our best, Isabelle sends. But if I have to bite him...
Do it. I let them go, using my physical presence to block Caine and Andre from following. Not that they try, but both watch him leave and I know he won't be safe until he's far away from here. If then. I'll figure out a protection system for him once this is over, but for now, getting him some distance is the best choice.
“Slumming, Princess.” Caine shakes his head. “Who would have thought.” He releases his arms, stretching. “You need a solid bang from a real were to show you what you're missing.”
“You're volunteering?” I snort. “I'm already unimpressed.”
Caine's scowl proves he, like most males, lives by his ego. The hateful stare I receive from Viveca confirms what I've thought all along—she wants him and hates me for his interest.
“Don't waste your effort, my friend.” Andre's hand falls from Caine's shoulder. “She was always low brow, no matter her breeding.”
He can try to ruffle my fur, but my disgust is stronger than my need to fight back. Still, I'm willing to take them on, all of them. And from the way Nataliya flexes her magic beside me, I won't be alone in the fight.
A commotion at the back stairs breaks up the party before it can get started. I glance over my shoulder, see Maksym and a large group of weres coming toward us. When did he summon them? It must be Isabelle’s doing. I almost wish he'd taken his time bringing reinforcements.
I turn and smile at Andre and Caine. “Coven Leader Dumont,” I say. “I hereby declare you outcast from the territory of the werenation. My grandfather’s warning stands. Your complete disregard for our laws,” I gesture at Caine, “and the relationship we have built with the Makosky coven,” Nataliya nods brusquely beside me, “has proven your only aim is to cause trouble for us and our allies.” Andre doesn't try to argue, just smiles his horrible and familiar smile at me. “You will be escorted to our borders and if you are ever seen here again, you will be summarily executed.”
“You don't have the power,” Andre says, voice soft and challenging.
“I do,” I say. “Or, I will, once I've filed a formal complaint with Femke Svennson and the European High Council.”
“A complaint,” Nataliya spits at him, “I shall echo. Now, leave my establishment—and my town—immediately.”
I watch Andre shrug, turn. Jean Marc grumbles something, but his father shakes his head. It should be satisfying to step aside, watch the two Dumont brothers retreat to their room to pack. But it's not, not by a long shot, not with Caine still grinning at me.
“You,” I say. “Return to the palace at once and face my grandfather's wrath for your disloyalty.”
Caine barks a yipping laugh, more wolf than man, and leaves, his pack trailing behind him, sway of his shoulders and hips accentuating his arrogance. I've done nothing to knock down his ego. But hopefully Oleksander will listen to me now.
If he doesn’t kill me when he finds out about Sage.
I turn to Nataliya, accept her hug. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She releases me and steps back, magic crackling. “My coven will ensure they leave,” she says. “I'll have my people escort them personally.”
“A couple of Enforcers might be a good idea,” I say. “Get in touch with Femke and let her handle it.”
Nataliya nods and squeezes my hand. “Be well, Your Highness.”
She and Fedir rush down the hall to the stairs. I just hope Femke can act and isn't stymied by coven law. If anyone can bypass the rules, it's Andre. But, I know Oleksander will back my ban and that's all we need to keep him out. Or kill him for intruding.
Maksym grasps my arm, his voice faint in my head.
Isabelle is watching your normal friend, he sends. I feel disappointment in him and snap him hard with my power. He retreats, head down. We might be friends, but I'm his superior. He doesn't have the right to judge me.
She'll keep him safe. I have to believe it. I'll worry about him later. Right now, we have to talk to my grandfather.
***
Chapter Twenty Two
My grandfather rages at me, in private, at least. The small room behind the throne is the perfect place for my dressing down, in his eyes at least. I would prefer this didn't happen at all.
“Against my express orders,” he finishes his stomping, pacing tirade, “stirring who knows what interference from the European High Council. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I scowl at him, doing my best to keep my temper. He doesn’t yet know of the full extent of my transgressions and maybe, if I can turn him against Caine sufficiently, I can get the Californian leader banned before he can use Sage against me. Not that such a scenario is likely. There will be more yelling and possible repercussions I haven’t thought of yet when Oleksander finds out about my relationship with a normal. But, for now, I need him to listen to me. It takes all the training I have, my mother's memory, to keep me from lashing out at my grandfather for not seeing the danger right in front of his eyes.
“I was protecting the Makosky family,” I say in a cold voice. There will be time for apologies later. For some reason, however, I don’t feel the guilt and shame I normally do when my grandfather’s power presses down on me. Instead, the rebellion awakened a week ago makes a fresh appearance, freeing my tongue. “Perhaps you are fine with our allies being tormented by our enemies, but I am not so weak.” I know, in the instant I’ve spoken, I've gone too far, stepped over the line with my last declaration. He will never forgive me for calling him weak.
I'm wrong. Oleksander sags, fury leaving him as he rushes to me and grips me in both of his hands, my upper arms locked in his grasp. He shakes me, ever so slightly, hands trembling.
“Sharlotta,” he whispers, hoarse, broken. “You risk so much. And we must be cautious.”
“We risk more with inaction,” I say, emboldened by his lac
k of temper. “Don't you care Caine was in talks with Andre Dumont right under your nose? While the pair of them brought discord to the Makosky coven? And what about Caine and his people using Yutsk to spy on us?” I have no idea if I'm right, but what other explanation is there for the early appearance of the California pack? “Treating our friends with dishonor?”
Oleksander bobs a nod, releasing me. He seems so old in that moment, worn where he has always been strong, robust. I release my own anger, and the lingering fear I have for Sage. The anger my grandfather will aim at me, I can handle. As long as Sage is safe.
I stand by Oleksander’s side as he pauses by the exit. I need to tell him, I can’t wait any longer. My grandfather needs to know, before anyone can use the information against me. No matter the consequences of him finding out about my relationship with Sage, we need to be on the same side when it comes to Caine.
“Grandfather,” I say. “We must stand up for our beliefs, even as we protect our way of life. But we cannot show weakness. Nor can we allow those who think they are better to oppress others. We have spent too long in that role ourselves to permit it to go on.”
He turns to me, a small, sad smile on his face. “What a queen you will make,” he says, before leaving me alone.
He's wrong about me. I will make a terrible queen. But I have no choice. And if I am to take the throne and lead the werenation, by the responsibility bequeathed to me, I'll do it and not apologize for kicking asses and taking names.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.” My words choke in my throat. But Oleksander shakes his head, turns from me, opening the door.
“First Caine,” he says. “Then we will talk of other things.”
I let him go. Why do I let him go? Yet another disaster waiting to rain trouble down on me. I feel like Syd, all of a sudden.
When I emerge from the room, slowly and nervously stepping around my grandfather's throne, I immediately lock gazes with Caine. He stands at the bottom of the dais stairs, his ever-present Roman and Viveca behind him. Oleksander stares down at him with his fists clenched. I feel another battle coming on, but this time Caine will be ready for my grandfather.
I'm wrong. Even as Oleksander opens his mouth to tear Caine apart verbally before he does so physically, the California pack leader holds up one hand.
“I know I broke the rules,” he says, as if he doesn't care what my grandfather—his king—thinks. “I was only curious about the Dumonts, nothing more.”
Oleksander growls. “You had your orders,” he says.
“An interesting family,” Caine says, like my grandfather isn't ready to kill him for his disobedience. “I understand you and our princess here,” he grins at me, “have close, personal experiences with them.”
I will kill him. And he will have no warning when I rip out his heart.
“Even more curious,” Caine goes on, “is Charlotte's choice of companions.” I freeze, my rage flashing to fear. Here it is, the moment of truth. And damn me, what was I thinking? I knew should have prepared my grandfather, stopped him and told him about Sage, instead of wasting my time insulting and hurting him instead. “Though, I suppose, being around witches and all,” Caine laughed, “hanging out with normals isn't so far to fall.”
My grandfather's tension worries me more than the way Caine looked at me. The pack leader I could take, would kill. But Oleksander's disappointment and fury? I wasn't so sure now I was about to face it head on.
Grandfather. I reach for him. I tried to tell you— I’m desperate to explain before Caine let out the truth, but he cuts me off.
What is this? He gestures to Caine. “Go on.” Sharlotta, what have you done?
I flounder while Caine shrugs his broad shoulders. “Part of the reason we were in Yutsk,” Caine says, “was to protect our princess's honor. I personally couldn't stand by as some normal,” he flicks his gaze to me, “claimed to be friends with her.”
He is a bastard and I can't stop him as he goes on.
“Imagine my surprise,” he says, “to find her protecting the very same normal.” He sniffs the air. “She even smells of him. Tell me, Your Highness. How did you get his scent on you?”
Oleksander's mind presses down on mine and I feel it when his wolf makes the connection between the scent of Sage from a week ago and the same aroma on me now. Is this what you've been doing? His anger is tempered by deep hurt that makes me flinch. Is this how you have been wasting your time? With normals? While your people needed you to step up and be their leader?
It's not like that. I feel like a little girl brought to task, for lying or cheating or stealing while my inner rebellion fights back. But all I've done is follow my heart. And yet, from the terrible pain in my grandfather's mind, I might as well have betrayed him to the Dumonts.
Screw that, my rebel traitor snarls.
Caine watches with a flush of eagerness, though neither my grandfather nor I show a hint of our mental conversation.
I am so ashamed, Oleksander says. I believed in you, trusted you to find your own way. Now I see how wrong I've been.
Why is it wrong? I throw the question at him in desperation while my need to fight back sneers at me. I love him.
YOU DID NOT USE THAT WORDABOUT A NORMAL. My grandfather's mental voice almost knocks me over. I sway, Caine grinning tighter as I do. He must know what's happening between us.
I DID. My anger feeds from Caine's smirk, from my fear for Sage, from my hatred of this box my grandfather has trapped me in. The seed of rebellion grows into a tsunami of rage and denial. I LOVE HIM.
You are Princess Sharlotta Moreau, heir to the werenation, my grandfather's crisp, icy words penetrate better than his shouting. You are destined to power and the glory of your people. Something you will never achieve in the arms of a normal. He turns from me, turns his shoulder to me as though dismissing me all together. For that reason, you will never see this normal again.
***
Chapter Twenty Three
I throw my feelings at him, letting my grandfather see, feel, and smell my fury, taste the defiance I embrace. Yes, my king. My words mean nothing, platitudes.
“Our thanks to you,” Oleksander says to Caine while I gag on his change of heart. “I had no idea.”
Caine bows his head to my grandfather. “You are so quick to judge,” he says, looking straight at me, “but we, too, care for the honor and glory of our werenation. We may have different ways of being, have been raised to alternate laws outside the embrace of those who rule our people, but we, as a pack, long only for the good of all werewolves.”
His pretty speech doesn’t fool me, but I feel my grandfather soften next to me. “Your observations of the Dumonts?”
“Merely in service of you, my king.” Caine’s eyes meet my Oleksander’s. “I took from our initial meeting, they are old enemies. It is best, in my experience, to understand those who oppose us, first hand.”
Oleksander nods, his anger toward me seeping out as he accepts Caine’s explanation. But he didn’t see the two of them together, the wereleader and Andre.
He lies, I send to my grandfather.
He cuts me off instantly. You will hold your silence, Oleksander sends. Until I can decide what is to be done with you, my disloyal weregirl.
I have never been disloyal. I want to pound on him with both fists, like the child I am to him. My heart hurts more now than it ever has, even over Sage. How can my grandfather think of me this way?
You have wasted five years, Oleksander sends to me. Five years we could have used toward solidifying the base of the werenation, five years in which you could have produced an heir to your throne with one of power. Not wasted on a normal who can’t forward us in any way, but only degrade our people’s name further. We have had to fight for what little respect we’ve gained. And you want to muddy our newfound power with the base blood of a normal?
Grandfather, I send in a snap of fire. You bigot. His back stiffens. Five years, I send back, fury now taking
over as I allow it to rise, I chose to live free for the first time.
Oleksander’s power hits me hard enough to make me flinch. I had thought being kind and generous with you, he sends, would make you a stronger leader. Now I wonder if it’s only made you petulant.
I hit him back without thinking. He spins toward me, glaring, in shock and his own rage but I don’t care.
For once, I send, I would like to be treated like a person. Not a commodity. Caine's grin follows me as I leave, walking away from the livid Oleksander, his angry voice calling my name. But none of the guards try to stop me, nor do they meet my eyes, and I almost wish they would. I'd be more than happy to finish a fight if they want to start one.
You are confined to the palace, Oleksander's sends.
Go to hell. I cut him off, heading for the front door. I never intended things to spiral this far out of control. How can he be so angry over a normal while Caine and the Dumonts—our most hated enemies outside the Black Souls—likely work in tandem to do us harm? He’s lost his damned werewolf mind.
The world feels surreal, broken in pieces, nothing real around me as I stalk out and into the darkness. The cool air of fall hits me in the face, the only reality I know right now. How can everything have fallen apart so badly? I can't help thinking of Sage, of my choices over the last five years and hating everything to do with what I am in a harsh jab of self-loathing.
Maksym lopes from the darkness, coming to my side. “Princess,” he says, worry in his voice.
I grasp his hand, pulling him away from the front door, fear surging higher. “Sage?”
“Isabelle calls,” my friend says, big eyes worried. “She sounds scared.”
My clothes shed in rapid succession as I throw myself into werewolf form. Maks is at my side, barely able to keep up as I run for the spirit power that is Isabelle. We find her quickly, on the outskirts of Yutsk, flickering with vampire magic like a beacon to pull us in.
