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Trepidation and perhaps a little fear washed through me, but neither would change my decision if I did happen to be pregnant.
I hope you haven’t told Monty, I added, because a blind person could see he was keeping a secret.
Belle’s laughter ran down the line between us. I know, and it’s endearing even if it is sometimes annoying. Besides, while I couldn’t avoid Ashworth and Eli knowing, it’s up to you who else you tell.
Which will be no one. Not until it’s absolutely necessary.
With Katie’s connection to both the wild magic and you, I’m betting she’ll figure it out pretty quickly.
She can’t tell anyone so that doesn’t matter. The last thing I need right now is Aiden’s fucking mother accusing me of getting pregnant to entrap him.
And she would.
Because she really did hate witches—and me—that much, thanks to what had happened to her sister so many years ago. Nothing any of us said or did would change that. I doubted even Aiden taking over his father’s mantle as pack alpha would alter her mindset.
Our one hope of a future together lay in the rest of the pack. While most believed otherwise, werewolf packs were a qualified democracy rather than an autocracy, so he could present the case of me becoming his mate to the pack and the wolf council, and their joint judgement would hold.
Of course, they could always say no. Karleen did still hold a lot of power and influence over the pack.
They won’t say no, Belle said. Not after that show we put on in front of the council and what’s now happening in the compound. I’m betting they won’t be able to move fast enough to install you as his mate.
I smiled. It was a nice thought, however unlikely.
We arrived at the hearing room a few minutes before eleven and were quickly guided into the chamber. My father vehemently protested Saska’s presence—not so much because he hated lower-class witches, though he did, but because he didn’t want outsiders viewing and possibly reporting proceedings. Unfortunately for him, his objections had been anticipated. Saska produced a signed order giving her permission to remain “for the safety of all,” and that was the end of the discussion.
My father’s scowl of annoyance at being so easily thwarted cheered me up immensely.
The trial reconvened, and the first witness was called. The door opened, and Mom stepped in. It was the first time I’d actually seen her since arriving, and a strange series of emotions washed through me.
In many respects, the testers had been right in saying I was my mother’s daughter, but not just because we shared the same anomalous thread of wild magic through our native magic. She could have been an older version of me—especially now that we both had silver eyes. There were more age lines around her eyes and mouth, of course, and her hair only had a smattering of gray rather than the two white streaks I now possessed thanks to the rusalka’s attack, but otherwise she was the same height and build. Of course, she was far classier in dress and movement than I ever would be.
She strode past my father and his counselor with barely a glance and repeated the process with me. Once again, that weird mix of emotions tumbled through me. I wasn’t entirely surprised by her actions, but I couldn’t deny the disappointment. I’d spent a lifetime wanting recognition from my parents, but it seemed nothing would ever change.
Not even the latest test results were likely to make a difference, because they didn’t show the power boost my father had no doubt been expecting. Even the anomalous strain wouldn’t tell him anything regarding the wild magic, simply because Mom and Cat had the same result.
Of course, the question that did need to be asked was, why the fuck did I even care what he or Mom actually thought about me?
I had no answer to that. No answer I wanted to acknowledge, anyway.
Once Mom was sworn in, Anthony rose. “Mrs. Marlowe, you said in your witness statement that you were unaware of the arrangements made by your husband regarding your daughter’s marriage to Mr. Clayton Marlowe, is that correct?”
“Yes.” Her voice was calm and even, but her aura told a very different story. It was a seething mix of color—while guilt and regret were definitely present, the main glow came from annoyance. Whether it was aimed at me, at my father, or at being legally required to take the stand here today, I couldn’t say.
If I had to guess, I’d say the latter.
“And is that usual? Did you, for instance, also leave the arrangements for your son’s marriage to your husband?”
“No.”
“Why is that?”
Her gaze flickered to me. Emotion glimmered briefly in her eyes, though I wasn’t close enough to see what it was. “Because my daughter and I were estranged.”
“And why was that?”
Mom took a deep breath and released it slowly. “We’d just lost Catherine, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wrongly blamed Elizabeth for my oldest daughter’s death when, in truth, she’d done far more than any of us to try and save her.”
Her answer hit like a punch to the gut. Not because she’d openly admitted they’d been wrong about me but, rather, what the answer implied as a whole.
