Chapter Eighteen

It’s as I’m brushing down Shadow after his run in the round pen, side by side with Leisel who’s tending to Duchess, that I feel Camden’s aura creeping up behind me. That in itself scares the shit out of me. I’ve been conscious of Camden’s presence every time we’re in a room together, but I’ve never quite felt it this way before. There’s a slight tingling in my chest, as well as the primal knowledge that he’s near.

Setting aside the brush I was using on Shadow, I turn around. Sure enough, there stands the Alpha in all his glory. He’s a few feet away from the entrance of the stable, and the halo of sunlight surrounding him makes him look like a dark angel. He’s in a dressed-down getup of loose dark trousers and a crisp white button-up.

I woke up only a few hours ago, after the strangest and longest slumber of my life. I’d obviously underestimated the consequences of my skewed sleeping schedule—something I’ll try to keep more consistent moving forward.

“Hello,” I greet Camden.

Leisel throws a glance over her shoulder, gives Camden a distasteful up-and-down, wrinkles her nose, and returns her attention to Duchess. Dismissed. I never knew my sister was capable of such sass. I think it might run in the bloodline.

“How are you feeling?” Camden questions without preamble.

I don’t say like shit, even though it’s true. Though I slept for an obscene amount of time, the weight of worrying about…well, everything, makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old. My body is stiff and sore, and my mind is a muddled mess.

“Well enough,” I tell Camden.

A muscle in Camden’s cheek ticks, betraying his irritation. I find myself loving how easy it is to get a reaction from him. I also find that tick in his cheek enticing, and I have to subdue the urge to reach out and stroke it with my finger. Which means that though I’ve been asleep for nearly two days, the bond hasn’t been sleeping with me. It’s progressing.

I need to prioritize reading up on the bond more; what little I’ve been able to get my hands on about it living in Aesara clearly isn’t enough to understand the full strength of it or its development. I know that the bond activates the moment two fated soulmates meet, and strengthens consistently thereafter, but I need more specifics if I’m going to be prepared to handle the force of it.

“You look better,” Camden comments.

“I no longer look like death incarnate,” I correct.

The corner of his lips ticks up. He takes a few steps forward, leaning against the stable door. “You could never look like death incarnate. You’re too beautiful.” He pauses, looking surprised with himself. As though he was trying to keep a leash on himself but the compliment just slipped out.

Leisel snorts quietly, and Camden shoots her a look of exasperated amusement. He doesn’t chastise her for disrespect like I assume he would most others, considering his position as Alpha.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” I ask, brushing off my dusty hands on my pants.

He pauses long enough to make me think he might not have come here for any particular objective. Leisel told me he’d been in and out of my room every few hours, day and night, checking on me like clockwork.

He clears his throat. “Yes. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you two to join me for dinner in a few hours.”

I feel my brows draw together. If dinner’s a big event with many people, I don’t know that I’ll be able to tolerate it well. For the last nine years, my tolerance for people other than Leisel was minimal—I could handle them long enough to trade in Aesara’s market a few times a week. The rare exceptions to that were Mariketa and Parker, mostly because they saved me many times over the years without even knowing it. I’m still not feeling my best, so the prospect of being around several people in a confined space isn’t appealing.

“It’ll be a small affair,” Camden quickly assures me, as though he’s reading my thoughts. “Just you, Leisel, me, and Wyatt.”

I glance at Leisel, who’s likely been going crazy cooped up in a room with me. She practically jumped for joy when I offered to go spend time with our horses after waking up.

It’ll be good for her to get out—and I’ve sensed that her fear has lowered while I’ve been out. She doesn’t trust the shifters, but she doesn’t believe they’ll harm her. I don’t believe they will, either, though that doesn’t set me at ease.

“I’ll send your lady’s maids up to help you prepare,” Camden says.

My head jerks back. “Lady’s maids?”

I feel both repulsed, because I have no need to be waited on, and at the same time slightly curious. How are these women treated? What exactly do they do?

My acquisitiveness is at play once again, nudging me to enjoy the luxury I’m being offered. With it comes a wave of guilt, because the luxury I’m curious about is absent in the lives of humans. They deserve such things too. I might not be able to get humans the equality and opportunities they deserve overnight, but if I’m to truly stay here as Camden’s mate and the de facto queen, I believe I’ll be able to extend aid to the less fortunate eventually. It’ll take planning and great tact, but if I’m very clever and proactive, I might actually be able to effect positive change.

In order to achieve all this, the shifter population must respect me for my human side, not merely my magical one. That’ll innately boost the value of humans in their society.

The plan I’ve formulated since waking is simple, really. I do what I’ve always done; work hard and be seen as working hard, not just by royalty and nobility but by everyone.

I’ll learn diplomacy—or try to apply what I’ve read about diplomacy over the years. Let Camden include me in his world; impress those in his world in whatever intellectual way possible. Be seen as someone who’s both a hard worker in the physical sense and someone who’s intelligent and helpful. In short, I’ll make mythics see humans as people of worth. I may not be entirely human, but I’m much closer to human than mythics are, and I was raised as a human so I understand them.

It’s quite a large responsibility to take on, winning over shifters and working on human rights. I’ll also need to research witchcraft to better Leisel and me. Still, someone has to put in the work, and I’m perfectly set up for the task.

The biggest complication is my mate, who’ll demand my time, attention, body, mind, heart, and soul. He’ll also want to fuck my brains out if the way he’s staring at me is any indication.

“Yes, lady’s maids,” Camden replies. “They’ll be sent up to introduce themselves and help you dress at seven. They’ll always be around your wing of the castle, so if you ever need anything, they’ll be happy to help.”

Unsure of how to react to such deferential treatment, I simply say, “Thanks.”

Then, when an awkward silence begins to stretch between us, I look to Leisel. “You done, sweet girl?”

She turns her attention to me and gives a brilliant smile. “Yep.” Her eyes slide to Camden, and her smile disappears. She regards him with a stoic expression that’s at odds with her young age. “Do you have a library in the castle?”

He looks shocked that she’s addressing him. I’m surprised, too, though I shouldn’t be. I’d intended to ask Camden for access to more reading materials at some point soon, but Leisel beat me to it.

“Of course,” he replies. “It’s rather extensive. You’re welcome to explore it tonight or tomorrow—Wyatt can show you after dinner.”

Recognizing his sly attempt to get Leisel to spend time with Wyatt, I interject, “That’s alright, thanks. I’m sure we’ll find the way.”

I get the sense that Camden is trying not to roll his eyes. He clenches and unclenches his fists, and says, “You know, Sierra, you can’t keep Leisel and Wyatt separate. They’re mates—distance isn’t an option.”

“Explain the mechanics of the mate bond then.” The words escape my lips before I can think them through.

Perhaps I won’t need to do copious reading to discover more about the mate bond; I could get my information straight from a shifter who I assume grew up learning about it and understanding it, simply by watching those around him with mates. I don’t know that he’d have gleaned anything from his parents, as the stories of them say that the shifter queen died long ago when Camden was still a child.

Camden looks pleased that I’m actually holding a conversation with him before suspicion shadows his expression. His brows furrow, as though he’s had a thought he really doesn’t like. He watches me from under lowered brows for a moment, assessing me. Then, a sly gleam enters his eyes, preceding his next words. “I’d love to tell you all about it. Walk with me and I will.”

I shift closer to Shadow who lets out a soft snort before gently butting my arm with his head. I stroke his forehead, enjoying the feeling of his thick short fur beneath my fingers.

I’m not in any way partial to spending more time with Camden; my awareness of him is already intensifying, which leads me to believe my draw to him will soon strengthen. That means I won’t be able to trust myself around him for long. If a tick in his cheek and close proximity is enough to get me hot and bothered, I don’t want to know what bodily reactions being alone with him would create.

“Can’t. I’m busy,” I respond airily.

“After dinner, perhaps?” he offers. “We can chaperone Leisel and my brother to the library.”

I tilt my head to the side. “The fact that you think chaperones are necessary is deeply concerning. Do you not trust your Beta?”

Camden’s lips thin. “I’d have thought that would put your mind at ease.”

I think for a breath. “Are you going to force Leisel to spend time with your brother?”

“I’ll strongly encourage it. They’re mates, Sierra. With Leisel’s age, Wyatt will have an intense drive to protect and support her.”

“I hope you understand I’ll strongly discourage their time together.” Mostly because the only person I truly trust around Leisel is myself, and I can’t stand the thought of there being a figure in her life that might draw her away from me.

Camden’s gaze flares with both irritation and bemusement, and he gives his head a slight shake. “I’ll see you at dinner.” It’s a promise that holds a note of warning.

***

At seven on the dot, a knock sounds on my door, followed by one on Leisel’s. Since the joining door between our rooms is open, I see Leisel tense up from where she’s lying on the floor in front of her fireplace with a book on her chest, reading. Chip is curled up on her stomach, dozing. Leisel sits up abruptly, catching Chip as he nearly tumbles off her body.

She looks to me for direction.

“Go ahead and answer it, my love,” I tell her. “I’ll be right here.” Since we’re expecting visitors, I’m not terribly worried.

Keeping an eye on her, I walk over to the door of my room and open it, revealing a woman who looks like she’s in her mid-thirties wearing a bright smile. She has black hair pulled up into an elegant bun, warm hazel eyes, and smooth walnut skin. She wears a modest knee-length black dress, with a white apron draped over it. Her hands are folded in front of her, and she looks…eager to please, for lack of a better term.

“Hello,” she greets, looking like she might start vibrating with excitement. “My name is Cara. I’m sure the King Alpha has told you I’ve been assigned as your personal lady’s maid. Anything you need, I’m here to help with. I’m so pleased to be able to serve our future queen. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

I give her a slow up-and-down, deciding whether she’s one of the people I dislike on sight—like just about every other shifter I’ve encountered. After a moment, I battle down the part of me that has a disdain for all mythics because Cara genuinely looks eager to help. I don’t want to repay kindness with cruelty.

Besides, my intention is to be diplomatic and open, not to give shifters reason to view me as a bitch. I need to make nice with as many of them as possible. Not including Camden or Wyatt, because I simply can’t conjure up any goodwill towards them, but I can try with others.

“Please, call me Sierra,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you. To be transparent, I have no idea what customs are in the shifter world, so it’s a relief to have someone to ask and talk to.”

Cara practically beams. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions and explain anything. For now, I was told to prepare you for dinner. Is that alright?”

I nod, just as another woman appears in the doorway joining Leisel’s room to mine, sporting a bright smile and an outfit identical to Cara’s. Leisel slips by her through the doorway and comes to stand near me as I look her lady’s maid up and down.

She appears to be somewhere in her sixties—though she might be centuries old for all I know—and instantly reminds me of Mariketa. Like Aesara’s town baker, I sense that Leisel’s lady’s maid is very grandmotherly and a caretaker by nature. The nurturing energy emanating from her calms me, as does the fond look in her eyes every time she glances at Leisel. Hopefully she’ll be a good fit for my little sister.

“Your Majesty,” she greets.

I barely hold back a grimace. “I’m not one for titles. Call me Sierra, please.”

She inclines her head. “My name is Greta. I’ve been assigned to the Princess and future Beta female—”

“My name is Leisel,” my sister interjects, her brows drawn together.

Greta smiles warmly at Leisel. “Alright. Shall we get you cleaned up and dressed for dinner?”

Leisel, again, looks to me for direction. I run my hand through her hair. “Go ahead,” I say softly.

Quietly, Leisel asks, “Can we trust them?”

Dear gods. A mere few days in Kinrith, and she’s already becoming jaded and untrusting. Though that soothes me because there are likely people out there who will try to take advantage of her, it also worries me. Leisel’s just too young to be so wary.

“I think so,” I murmur, knowing that despite my soft volume, both Cara and Greta can probably hear us perfectly, courtesy of their enhanced shifter hearing. “Listen to your gut, sweet girl. A witch’s intuition never leads her awry.” That’s a valuable lesson I learned from my mother.

Although intuition is a tricky tool that can often be elusive, there are times when I simply know something in my bones. When Leisel caught pneumonia at five years old, I knew that if I didn’t get her help, she wouldn’t survive it. Likewise, when my mother went into labor, I had a soul-renting feeling that she wouldn’t come out of it.

Leisel nods, turning to give Greta an assessing look. Then she smiles. Greta takes that as her opportunity to usher Leisel back into her room and walks right into her closet.

I look back to Cara. “Where should we start?”

“With clothes,” she says at once. “Tonight’s dinner will be a small affair, but I’d still recommend you wear a dress. I’ll help you style your hair if you’ll allow me.” She pauses, looking at my face. “Normally I’d recommend a light layer of makeup, but I don’t see the need here. You’re a natural beauty.”

I blink. “Um. Thanks.”

Cara smiles indulgently. “I’m sensing you’re not used to compliments, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not particularly.”

She nods as though she understands perfectly. “Well, be prepared for that to change. I have a feeling you’ll get a lot of compliments, especially from males.” Her smile widens. “It’ll drive your mate insane. I must admit, it’ll be interesting to watch our Alpha deal with it. He’s so stoic most of the time—” She cuts off with an embarrassed laugh. “Please excuse me. Sometimes I speak before thinking.”

I wave a hand at that. “We have that in common. What were you saying?”

She briefly glances at the grandfather clock in the room. “Can we talk while I prepare you? I’d hate to make you late for your first official meal here.”

I nod and follow her into my closet where she surveys the collection of clothing with pursed lips, looking between me and the impressive number of dresses. I accept her suggestion of a simple yet elegant forest-green dress, swiftly changing into it. The dress is quite beautiful; it’s made of sheer lace sewn over silk. The top half molds to my upper body, showcasing only a hint of my cleavage with a modest neckline held up by silk straps. The lace extends from the straps to cover my shoulders, creating a stark contrast between my pale skin peeking through the green woven threads. The skirt flares out, where the lace is studded with small white jewels, and stops about an inch above my knees. The material is foreign and luxurious, yet surprisingly comfortable and breathable. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I can’t hold back a small gasp; I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed the sight of my reflection.

After sitting me down in front of the sink in the bathroom, Cara begins to brush my hair while telling me bits and pieces about Camden, all of which intrigue me.

“He couldn’t have been older than nine when his mother died,” she says, weaving several intricate braids into my hair. “It hit him hard. Overnight, he went from a playful child to a serious solemn boy.” Her voice quiets. “He grew up too fast, after that. Greta was his caretaker—she saw first-hand how he changed.”

Seems like Camden and I do have something in common after all. We both had to become adults far too quickly. I recall his words to me in the forest, I’ve lost things very dear to me. Despite myself, I feel a twinge of empathy for him, but the feeling doesn’t last long. Regardless of my distaste for him, losing a parent as a child is something that fundamentally changes a person, which I know all too well.

“What about his father?” I question.

Cara’s bright smile falters for a moment. “The Dowager King abdicated his title and duties in the years after losing his mate. He passed on the responsibilities and crown to Camden. A wise choice for a wise monarch.”

Her answer is somewhat evasive which strikes me as intentional. She doesn’t tell me exactly why the previous king abdicated, only that he did. I want to push for more of an explanation, but I’d rather not risk Cara shutting down, so I resolve to find out more details on my own. Part of me also wants to point out the amount of suffering the wise monarch caused, but I keep a lid on my anger, instead focusing on Cara’s words and learning as much as I can about the life I’ll now be living.

I sift through the many questions that have been floating through my head, wanting to take the opportunity to get some of them answered from a source I don’t despise. Thinking about the various titles I’ve been called by, I ask Cara, “Shifters have been calling me Alpha female, Queen, future queen, and Greta just referred to me as Your Majesty. How does the rank and title system work? What does it all mean exactly?”

Cara’s smile returns. “Alpha female is technical terminology for anyone fated to an Alpha, or a female with an inner animal dominant enough to be Alpha. About forty percent of packs worldwide are headed by Alpha females. In terms of Queen and future queen, you’re currently queen-to-be; once you consummate your bond with Camden, you’ll hold the official position of queen and there’ll be an official coronation. In the meantime, you’ll likely be referred to as Queen because there’s no doubt you soon will be one. For titles, the Queen and King are referred to as Your Majesty, while the Prince and Princess are Your Royal Highness.”

I’m not sure how I feel about all of these formalities, but I remind myself this is a conversation for me to get some questions answered, not to pass judgment on answers. I can do that later.

“What do you mean by dominant inner animal?” I ask. “I’ve read that shifters can be dominant or submissive, but I don’t know much beyond that.”

Cara replies, “Dominant versus submissive refers to the power and strength of one’s animal and human, which is really up to the fates. The more dominant shifters are often in pack leadership or part of warrior ranks, while those with submissive animal counterparts are more commonly seen in positions of service. For example, I’m a submissive shifter—a certified people-pleaser—which is why I enjoy my job so much. Greta, on the other hand, is dominant, which comes in handy when keeping rowdy royal children in line.”

I hang onto each of her words with growing fascination, surprised to find that the complexity of a shifter’s nature is actually very interesting to me. “Can dominant shifters be mates to submissive ones?” I ask curiously. “It seems like that dynamic could be inherently unstable.”

Cara’s eyes twinkle. “Yes, submissive shifters can be mated to dominant ones. Greta and I are an excellent example of that. Her strong, outspoken presence is actually a great aid to my natural shyness. We complete each other in many ways.”

Oh.I hadn’t gotten the sense from either of them that they were intimate, let alone mated, so that takes me a bit by surprise. What’s also surprising is the significant age difference between them, though I imagine age gaps can’t be terribly uncommon in shifter culture.

“I’m sorry,” I say a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t know.”

Cara laughs. “It’s no trouble really. We don’t exactly advertise our status while working, but any shifter can tell just by scent.”

“How so?”

“When fated mates complete the bond, their scents mix. Marks also contribute before the bond is complete, as they embed a shifters scent permanently in their mates skin.”

Each piece of information she feeds me only deepens my appetite for more. I have to hope I’m not irritating her too much with my prodding.

Seeing an opportunity to learn more about the bond, I question, “Exactly how do bonds work? Are they fully complete through mark and consummation?”

Cara shakes her head. “Marking and physical consummation are two integral and significant steps to completing a bond, but they alone can’t fully complete a bond. For a mating bond to fully take hold there needs to be emotional, physical, and soul intimacy between a couple. Only marked and consummated, the bond is mostly formed; in cases where shifters are mated to humans, the acts together strengthen the bond to the extent that the human would receive some of the shifters strength and accelerated healing, but to have it fully functional, two beings need to become one.”

Interesting. I’d always assumed that the bite and the sex were what constituted a fully formed mate bond; I didn’t know it was more complex. That’s something I’ll need to think on. “One more question, if I haven’t annoyed you too much,” I say.

Cara’s smile reappears in full-force. “It’s not annoying, Your Maj—Sierra. It’s rather endearing you wish to learn more. Please, go ahead.”

I nod pensively, then blurt the question I’ve been wondering for my entire life because no books I could get my hands on covered such topics. “Why did mythics leave their realm? Is anyone still residing in your home realm? Do you ever intend to return?”

Cara pauses for a long moment, her fingers stilling in my hair. Finally, she says, “The mythics who came to Earth were drawn here by the abundant natural resources, some of which were absent in our home realm, as well as the magic of the nature itself. As for our home realm, Mythicacia, our kind still reside there with their own hierarchies and power structures, though they mirror ones on Earth and are loyal to the leaders on Earth. In terms of return…few mythics who walk this world and experience its beauty and abundance want to return.”

She finishes styling my hair as I fall silent, digesting all the information she’s given me. I never truly thought mythics wished to return to their own realms, after all, they’ve stayed here for over two centuries, but I had the faintest hope someday they’d get sick of this world and leave. Perhaps not a hope, but a dream—the possibility of a distant future in which the planet returns to humans.

Then again, there’s no point in denying that humans didn’t exactly treat this planet well; they drove it to the very brink of collapse, and as much as I hate to admit it, the shifter invasion is what saved it. They destroyed humans but saved and restored nature.

Removing her hands from my hair, Cara asks, “What do you think?”

I meet my eyes in the mirror before taking in the intricate layers of braids weaved into my hair. The plaits are small and delicate, forming a knot at the back of my head that flows down with the rest of my hair, the majority of which was left untouched. The irritating fly-away strands that always get stuck on my forehead are pulled back into the braids, and the style, along with the dress, makes me appear regal in a way I never could’ve imagined.

“It looks beautiful,” I respond, snapping out of my dismal thoughts with amazement. Cara couldn’t have been working on me for more than twenty minutes, yet she managed to create a genuine work of art.

Cara beams. “I’m glad you like it! Dinner’s in about fifteen minutes—I can show you the way when you’re ready. Do you need anything else in the meantime?”

I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around having someone whose job is to serve me. For someone who’s only been able to rely on herself for the better part of a decade, the very concept of a person existing to aid me is jarring.

“In that case, I’ll be right outside. Greta just finished up with Leisel, so we’ll wait for you in the hall—come on out when you’re ready.”

I walk her to the door of my room, thanking her again before shutting it behind her. Leisel wanders into my room then, looking nothing short of adorable in a blue sundress and matching sandals. Her hair was left untouched, flowing down her back in its usual beautiful waves.

“Chip’s sleepy, so I left him in bed to rest.” She bites her bottom lip. “Is it bad that I like Greta?” Leisel asks.

My heart sinks. “No, sweet girl. A person’s value is based on their soul—not the species they were born into.”

I worry that my innate prejudice against the beings who destroyed my family has stained Leisel, which I don’t want. I’ll need to get over my prejudice if I’m going to get any good work done—I’m going to have to listen to my own words. My mothers words really. She hated mythics on principle, but even so would always tell me to judge a person on their soul and not anything else.

Getting to know shifters intimately, as I just did Cara, might not make that as much of a herculean task as I’d previously assumed. They have more humanity in them than I expected.

I’m relieved when Leisel nods in understanding, taking me at my word.

She gives me a long look over, taking in my hair and dress, and then says, “You look like a princess.”

My heart warms, and I smile at her, taking her hand in mine. “No, you look like a princess. Now, let’s go eat. Then we can find that library Camden mentioned. Sound good?”

Leisel nods. “Sounds good.”