“So what happened after Aleksi pulled out?” I asked.
“The whole thing collapsed,” Kenai answered. “Without the Finnish forest reindeer, we didn’t have the numbers to make Jólnir take us seriously. The Peary reindeer and Siberian herd went back to their separate grievances. Another year wasted.”
“And Aleksi?”
“Went back to fighting battles his own way.” Taimyr’s voice was carefully controlled. “Which mostly means getting into physical altercations with supervisors and making things harder for everyone.”
I processed this, my mind working through the dynamics. “He doesn’t trust you.”
“No,” Kenai admitted. His arms tightened around me. “So what do we do? We can’t unify the clans without him. But we can’t address everyone’s concerns simultaneously without overreaching and getting nothing.”
I thought about it, turning the problem over in my mind. This was familiar territory—fractured coalitions and the paralysis that came from everyone wanting justice but disagreeing on strategy.
“You need a different approach,” I said finally. “Stop trying to find common ground between the subspecies. Instead, identify the common enemy.”
“Jólnir,” Taimyr replied.
“No. Not him specifically.” I sat up, energized despite my exhaustion. “The system. The thing that lets him get away with this in the first place. What allows the North Pole to exploit shifter labor without consequences?”
“The lack of oversight,” Kenai mused. “There’s no regulatory body for magical labor practices. No enforcement mechanism for the old contracts.”
“Exactly. So you don’t fight about whose suffering is worse or whose demands should be prioritized. You fight to create the infrastructure that addresses all of it.”
“That’s…” Taimyr stared at me. “That’s huge. That would take years to implement.”
“Yes. But it’s something all three subspecies need equally.” I looked between them. “You’re not negotiating forscraps anymore. You’re building the framework that makes exploitation impossible.”
“Mrs. Claus knew,” Kenai said suddenly. “That’s why she triggered your heat. She knew we were close to something—that we just needed—” He looked at me. “Someone who could see the whole picture.”
“A distraction that backfired,” Taimyr remarked with a grin. “She gave us exactly what we needed.”
I felt heat rising in my cheeks that had nothing to do with the way they were looking at me. “I haven’t done anything yet. This is just theory.”
“It’s more than we’ve had in years.” Kenai pressed a kiss to my temple. “You just gave us a real strategy. One that might actually work. One I know you can pull off.”
“Some might call that fate,” I replied glibly.
Both of my mates’ eyes lit up.
“We certainly would.” Taimyr leaned in closer, kissing my neck. The small amount of clarity I’d found vanished instantly.
“I’ll do it,” I murmured. “After this heat finally breaks and I can think straight for more than ten minutes at a time.”
Kenai’s hands were already drifting between my thighs. “Our perfect omega. You’re going to change everything.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sylvie
“Absolutely not,” Kenai repeated for the third time, pacing the length of the chalet’s main room. “It’s too dangerous, Sylvie. Your heat may be ending, but your scent is still strong enough to attract attention.”
I crossed my arms, watching him wear a path in the wooden floor. “Kenai, I can’t make legal arguments based on secondhand information. I need to see the working conditions myself, and understand the full scope of what we’re dealing with.”
“She’s right,” Taimyr said quietly from his position by the window. “Reading reports and hearing stories isn’t the same as witnessing exploitation firsthand. And if she’s going to represent the clans, she needs to understand what we’re facing.”
Kenai stopped pacing and turned to glare at his mate. “Whose side are you on?”
“Hers,” Taimyr replied without hesitation. “Which should be your side too. She’s the expert.”
