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Baby wolves, I think as I follow her into the kitchen.
I don’t want a baby, or so I’ve been telling myself for years.
But I can’t deny that since seeing myself pregnant in the window’s reflection, my feelings have begun to shift. Or, rather, I’ve started to see my resistance for what it is.
I’m not anti-baby. I do want children, want them pretty intensely, in fact, but I don’t want them in a world like this one.
Which means I have to change the world…
And that’s not something I’m going to accomplish by marrying Maxim and being the typical mate who sits back and lets her partner call the shots.
I wouldn’t want a marriage like that in any version of the world, but especially not this one. The bossy, violent, all-male Alpha leadership of the past few centuries has led to the fracturing of our people, the desecration of our customs, and the ruin of The Parallel.
If things keep going as they have been, in another fifty years, the supernatural dimension will be a chaos-riddled warzone unfit for raising a patch of vegetables, let alone a child. And Human Side has its own downsides, bossy all-male Alphas, and unique challenges for creatures who humans tend to kill when they learn of our existence.
I’ve known since this plan began to take shape that convincing Maxim’s father that he should facilitate this union was only step one. Step two is living long enough to get Maxim’s ring on my finger. And step three is winning my mate over to my way of ruling and convincing him big changes must be made in order to secure the safety and prosperity of all shifters.
Or step three is acquiring enough power, support, and momentum to lock my husband away somewhere and…take his place.
But of course, I can’t tell Diana that.
Not yet, anyway.
First, I have to convince her and enough of her people that I’m a better leader for the North Star pack than her brother. Then, I’ll have to prove to them the prophecy isn’t about me making a man a king, but about becoming king myself.
Or queen.
Thank the stars Jukebox didn’t ask me about that yesterday. The possibility that I might have those sorts of aspirations clearly hasn’t entered his mind. But it’s entered mine, and when I whispered those words to my reflection the morning before I met with Maxim’s father, the glow was soft, but there, which means there’s at least a shot this crazy plan is going to work.
I might actually end up taking over as Alpha.
The thought fills me with more dread than excitement, but I take that as a good sign, too. The best rulers are the ones who have no urge to rule. I don’t crave power or control; I crave peace and hope. And I think there are a lot of people out there who feel the same way.
I just have to find a way to reach them and communicate with them.
Which makes me wonder…
“Diana, does Maxim have a women’s issues advisor?” I ask as we sip our coffee on the overstuffed pink couch in her living room. “To help him know how to better serve the female members of the pack?”
She shakes her head. “Not that I know of, but that’s a great idea. We just had a big dust up after the theater renovations, in fact, with people wondering why they didn’t add more stalls in the ladies’ room while they were at it. We should totally have more stalls than the men. Not only do most of us have periods to deal with every month, but we’re way more likely to be helping kids or older relatives while we’re in there than the guys are. A women’s issues advisor could have helped address that during the planning stage.”
I nod. “They totally could have. I’ll use that as an example when I tell him about my plan to start a focus group. I want to get a group of women together from all walks of life, all stations—Alphas, Betas, Omegas—and see where their needs overlap. Would you be interested in helping coordinate that? I’d love to get started as soon as possible. I don’t see any reason to wait for the wedding.”
“I would be very interested in helping with that,” she says, before adding pleasantly, “but I seriously doubt Maxim is going to like you sticking your oar in after you’re officially his mate, let alone before.”
I nod, also pleasantly, and say, “I’m sure you’re right, but I really don’t care.”
Diana laughs and shakes her head. “Maybe you’ll be able to handle Maxim, after all. It’s high time he had to deal with someone who isn’t afraid of him.”
“Agreed.” I take another bracing drink of my coffee, doing my best not to think of all the things there are to be afraid of.
I never set out to be a revolutionary, but these are the cards Fate has dealt me, and no revolutionary ever changed the world by letting fear call the shots.
Even if her enemy is literally a master of fear, twice her size, and in a far better position to hold onto his power than to be stripped of it.
But you know what they say about desperate times…
Certain I’ve never felt more desperate, I gulp down the rest of my coffee, fetch a pad and paper from Diana’s desk, and begin to make lists of all the things I intend to get done in the next thirty days, ignoring the anxious voice in my head fretting that I’m about to bite off way more than I can chew.
