“If it was political, it was probably my brother Draven.”
I nod, unsure of how much she knows about The Devil’s Masquerade. She wasn’t on my list of people who were aware of our campaign, but it’s no surprise she figured it out, at least partially.
“What does your mother think of this?” she asks.
“My mother is no longer a part of my life, so she didn’t have a say in it,” I say, which is an understatement of great proportion.
My mother chose to leave the pack when my father became Alpha. She claimed his method of takeover was uncivilized, even though it was the same method Abel had used to become Alpha prior to my father. She left me, a little girl, all alone. An older woman—Saoirse—became my maternal figure until she passed a few years back of old age.
“I am struggling,” I confess, and she stares up at me.
“Are you struggling because you don’t care for your fiancé, or struggling because you do?” she asks. It’s cryptic, but I think we both read through the lines.
“Yes.” I swallow.
“I see.”
I want her to ask me what else is bothering me, and I want to truly answer. I want to tell her that my father, Cain, killed his brother Abel to become Alpha. I want to tell her about how my cousin Tyrus was next in line, and about how I’ve spent my entire life training to be his second.
I want Taryn to ask how that makes me feel, and I want to take in a deep breath and tell her how it terrifies and enrages me; it is infuriating that I need to be training and learning and bonding with my pack, but instead I’m being used as a bargaining chip—a pawn in my father’s political scheming.
I want to let the tears fall down my face and I want her to hug me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, just like my mother should be here to do, but instead I say nothing. I say nothing because she would have more questions, ones that I can’t answer.
What is your father scheming?Oh, you know. Only a retaliation against the people you love. An eye for an eye, if you will. It’s only fair!
Maybe Taryn would understand, or maybe she would swim away and immediately tell them that I’m a monster. I don’t know, but I can’t risk it. I must keep the truth close to my heart, locked away in the icy, frozen block I call my chest.
I let my eyes shudder closed and breathe in the fresh scent of the river and the forest.
“This marriage might’ve started as a sham, but it doesn’t have to be,” she suggests, though she has no idea how wrong she is. “Just go slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.”
“I know,” I say, but I don’t.
What do I do if I’malready falling?
The Devil’sMasquerade is preparing to meet with the King and his siblings. Apparently, the entire group doesn’t always attend, but they were requested by one of the governors.
Everyone’s packing, hurriedly trying to prepare their bags and get their things in order.
I’m sitting on the bed beside Yasmeena, quietly watching her pack, as Gemma enters our tent.
“Hi Tempest, I need you to watch Nico while we’re gone, but don’t worry! We’ll be back in a day or two,” she explains.
“Why wouldn’t Quinn or Robyn or someone watch him?” I ask. “Rowan, maybe?”
“They’ll be busy running the carnival. I could ask Una to do it, but I figured you might be able to teach him a little about lupion culture,” she answers, and I can’t help but balk.
I want to scream no, but something holds the sound hostage in my throat. “I don’t know?—”
“Not really taking no as an option,” she says, and then exits the tent before returning with the little lupion boy.
I rub my face with my hands, wondering how on Hel I’m supposed to deal with this, when I feel a tugging sensation on my pant leg.
“Aunt Tempest,” Nico says, his big emerald eyes staring up at me.
Aunt?
“Mom says you can teach me how to howl at the moons.” He’s grinning a little toothy grin, and I can’t help but smile back.
