“I think we’re going to try and have a baby,” Lilian says, and my heart starts a thunderous rhythm in my chest.
Most of the carnies hate Baelor. I’ve been a part of Hel’s Carnival a lot less time than the others, so I think I don’t know the full depths of Baelor’s bad behavior, but from what I’ve seen he’s not the worst partner in the world. He loves Lilian, and she never complains to me about their situation. If he hurt her, Draven would’ve killed him by now.
I can’t tell if there’s something I just don’t know, or if they’re all just going off of the same bad energy I sense in him as well, either way, I try to be the one who supports her marriage. Even if it makes my stomach a little queasy, I want to be the one yes in her field of nos. Draven, Reina, and Gemma can all tell her that this isn’t a good idea, but I want to be the one to cheer her on.
“Really? Oh that’s amazing,” I say, and I mean it. Though I don’t particularly care for her husband, I trust in Lilian and I know she’ll be a lovely mother. “Have you told anyone?”
“No, not yet. I was going to wait until I’m actually pregnant.”
I give her hands a squeeze and smile. “I think that’s wise. I’m happy for you, Lilian. I can’t wait to be your future kid’s aunt.”
“You’re going to be the best aunt ever,” she says and stands up, crossing out of the tent.
Between a turf war, a rebellion brewing, a political engagement, and now a soon-to-be pregnant Lilian, I might just die from a heart attack.
Lilian helpedme pick out an outfit while Gemma helped Tempest, and now we’re walking the streets of the economic district, looking for felion and lupion to question like two eager reporters.
I’m in denim shorts and a loose-fitting cerulean quarter-sleeve top. Tempest is in jeans and a tight, racerback black tank top. We’re like opposites as we walk parallel to one another.
“Act like you like each other,” Absinthe whispers.
We lean in to each other, still not holding hands, but close enough to implysomethingis going on.
Walking down the busy street, there are half-demons bustling about, but no lupion or felion in sight. We continue down another road, searching for similar ears and tails in every corner.
“With tensions as high as they are, it’s possible people just aren’t going out,” I suggest, but Tempest shakes her head.
“What about Claudia, doesn’t she own a business? We should check there,” Tempest says, and I nod.
“Good idea.”
We walk towards Claudia’s alteration company, where she works as a seamstress. The building is small and quaint, the exterior painted a bright pastel mint. Opening the front door, we step inside and find three felion lingering alongside Claudia.
“Yasmeena!” Roxanne squeals with excitement, her goldenblonde hair swaying as she moves. Roxanne Petit is probably the nicest felion I know, and one of my dearest friends.
“Hi Roxie!” I say, and give her a big squeeze before I realize Claudia is staring at us.
“Good afternoon Yasmeena, is this your fiancé?” Right to the chase.
“Yes, this is Tempest,” I answer and grab Tempest’s hand before dropping to a whisper. “How did you know?”
She holds up a newspaper and places it on the table in front of us. In big bold letters on the second page it reads ENGAGEMENT ANNOUNCED BETWEEN FELION LEADER AND PACK PRINCESS.
Seriously? Couldn’t have said something normal likeengagement between Yasmeena Al-Khalifa and Tempest Lupine.
“I didn’t know you were considered our leader,” Claudia says, anger sharpening her tone. Crow’s feet line the corners of her eyes, and I can imagine how she might feel, a much younger felion like myself being seen as a stronger candidate for leadership. Hel, I’d be mad too.
I let go of Tempest and put up my hands like I’d raise a white flag if I had one. “I didn’t either.”
“I’m not a fucking princess, so. I wouldn’t pay too much attention to the bullshit they write,” Tempest says, and the entire room goes quiet at the sound of her voice.
I can’t tell if they’re afraid of her, or just surprised she spoke at all. Maybe both.
“Is there anything you can think of that we could do to my fellow felion, perhaps something that could ease tension with the lupion, too?” I ask, desperate to get to the point of this. I’ve never been good with small talk.
“As you know, I’ve been organizing a little with the felion. I’ll ask at our next meet up, which you should attend. Especially if the news is going to claim you as our leader,” she says, and my cheeks heat.
“Of course.”
