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“Her Majesty, Queen Bailey, leader of the Toronto pack,” Charles says, prompting both of the men to bow.
“Your Majesty,” the police chief says nervously, and he’s echoed by the guy from the mayor’s office.
I turn to that guy. “You’re not the mayor.”
“I’m not, Your Majesty,” he says, apologetic.
“The mayor of Toronto can’t deign to meet with the queen of Toronto?” I ask, blinking placidly.
“With respect, Your Majesty,” the police chief begins. “You’re the queen of your people. Not ours.”
“I don’t know how respectful it is to challenge me,” I say with serrated sweetness. “After all, you’re only humans. I’ll be the queen here long after the mayor’s term ends. After you retire. After everyone in your generation is rotting in the ground.”
“Your Majesty—” Charles says softly.
I hold up my hand to stop him. “It seems I’m standing in a room full of men who need to put me in my place. So, let me remind you what my place is. I am a queen. You are in my castle. And you are here to listen to me, not to advise me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charles says. The other two exchange stunned glances.
I know what they see. I’m young, I’m blonde, and I’m wearing a tiara and a ball gown. I probably look like a pageant contestant to them, and they expect me to stumble over the interview portion.
But I’ve had several hours of unfettered growing up.
“Sit.” It’s not an invitation, and the two men scurry to obey.
I step behind Nathan’s desk. It’s the size of a fucking pool table and the chair isn’t some regular desk chair with a swivel base, it’s a high-backed, padded leather monstrosity with no arms. It really helps me get into the mindset of being powerful and in charge. I get why he has it, although I can’t imagine him not walking through his entire life feeling powerful and in charge.
Maybe all of this stuff is just props.
I hope the scale of the furniture doesn’t emphasize how small I feel.
“You’ll forgive me for being curt and for not offering you gentlemen anything,” I say, trying to do my best impersonation of what I think a female Nathan would sound like. “But there was an attack here today, on myself and my husband and loyal members of my court. Now, the king is clinging to life and I have a pack to run. So, please. Get to the point quickly and leave.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” the police chief says. “Well. That’s what we’re here to talk to you about. We received some calls about the incident and need to brief you on how the city is explaining it. People have questions.”
I turn to the mayor’s aide. “What are you doing here?”
He looks uncertainly from the police chief to me. “I’m sorry?”
“The chief is here to brief me on how the city is explaining this disturbance to citizens. But the mayor isn’t.” I prop my elbows on the desktop and clap my hands together. “He sent an underling.”
“The mayor isn’t aware of the presence of werewolves in the city, Your Majesty,” the man explains. “The mayor isn’t even aware of the presence of an office of human-werewolf relations within the organization. We’re off the books, entirely.”
“Hmm.” Is all I say. “Well, then, what do you both require of me?”
“Just know that the story we’re telling the press is that a movie is being filmed here at Aconitum Hall, that everything is all right, and that the filmmakers apologize for upsetting the local community,” The police chief says.
The man from the mayor’s office adds, “Filming permits have been filed retroactively. Everything will look completely above board.”
“Good.” I sit there and they just stare at me.
Charles clears his throat. “It has been customary, in the past, for our treasury to…”
I glance between the two men seated in front of me. “Is this true?”
“The pack makes generous donations to certain programs—” the mayor’s aide begins.
“I believe you’re describing something called ‘quid pro quo’,” I cut him off. “You’ve come to me, representing the city government, and you’re asking me to repay you for…breaking the law?”
“It’s not breaking the law,” the chief begins.
“It sounds like it is.” I feign confusion. “Filing paperwork? Creating a false story? And then you ask for money as my husband is lying just rooms away, dying?”
The chief’s ears turn red. “The city has ignored the presence of werewolves, has cleaned up several werewolf-related incidents—”
“And the pack is grateful,” I say, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “But I do admire both of you for your bravery. You come here, to a castle full of monsters—and not just monsters, incredibly wealthy and powerfully connected monsters—to threaten me and solicit bribes.”
They say nothing.
“Things are going to change in Toronto,” I state firmly. “We will continue our relationship with the human world. And any charitable donations we make will be generous. But in the future, do not come to my home with your hand open, when mine are still bloody!”
