Chapter Thirty-Four

As I soon find out, working with Wyatt on foreign policy is the easy part. Camden is the real figure that needs to be convinced, something that Wyatt tells me only after we’ve drawn up a proposal that condenses our ideas and formulates a plan of action. Wyatt and I spend most of the day and half the evening together working on it, and he also educates me on the generalized structure of shifter politics.

While Camden is literally the top dog of the top dogs—something that I hadn’t understood when I first declared duelum, counting on the idea that the shifter high court would protect my win and keep me away from the life I now lead—he also needs to work in tandem with the counselors on the high court.

The counselors who make up the body of the high court can’t necessarily negate his rulings, but every counselor who has a seat at the high table holds serious power within the shifter packs across the globe, so it’s in his interest to work alongside them. That being said, it’s also in their interest to work alongside him and cater to him, because an angry Alpha King means a lot of deadly dissent could spark among shifters. At the end of the day, every pack of shifters in every corner of this world answers to and is therefore loyal to Camden.

Wyatt assures me that he can handle the counselors—fifteen in all, one to represent each major pack around the world. He’s the in-between man who takes matters from the counselors on the high court to Camden and vice-versa, so he’s on good working terms with all of them. While it’s Wyatt’s job to convince them that foreign policy and diplomacy are shifters best shot at continued survival, it’s my job to convince Camden. I have to say, that’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.

I know the proposal for outreach I put together with Wyatt is damn good, as I structured it after some of the most effective policies the U.S.A. ever created and enacted before its collapse following the mythic invasion. I also know that telling Camden he needs to play nice with the rest of the world, starting with the witches, is probably going to be a hard sell.

After a fourteen-hour workday that involved several disagreements—which culminated in shouting matches with Wyatt before we finally agreed on a single proposal he could take to the high court and I could take to Cam—I’m ready to tumble into bed and sleep for the next week.

I’m used to physical labor that exhausts my body, but labor of the mind is a different scenario. While I like to consider myself a fairly intelligent woman who, despite a lack of formal education, can hold her own, I never expected to be in a position to clock in fourteen hours of thinking, arguing, structuring, writing, and editing on top of editing, all for the sake of bettering shifter kind. The emotional turmoil that creates, on top of the mental exhaustion that comes from having my nose buried in documents for the entire day, makes me seek out my sister before anyone else.

As much as I’m Leisel’s rock and her provider, she’s also the most stabilizing and calming presence in my life. I enter our living chambers with a swath of papers making up my first ever foreign policy proposal in hand. I set down the leather binder containing the papers I’ve slaved over all day on the desk in my room before opening the adjoined doorway leading to Leisel’s bedroom.

It looks like I came just in time; she’s tucked into her bed, looking as adorable as ever surrounded by mountains of silk blankets and pillows. Greta sits on a chair beside her, reading to my sister from the book of Grimm’s Fairytales, her nose wrinkled in disapproval.

When they hear me enter the room, Greta looks up from her book in surprise while Leisel sits up in bed, wide-eyed, before starting to excavate herself from the blankets—probably to run to me.

“You don’t have to get up, sweet girl,” I tell her, walking to her bed and taking a seat on the mattress beside her.

Since it’s Leisel’s bedtime, I usually wouldn’t try to give her any stimulation that’d prevent her from falling asleep—such as seeing me after a day of separation—but, in this scenario, I think I need her presence more than she needs mine. I arrange myself on her bed so that my back’s against the headboard and we’re sharing the same pillow, cuddled up against each other. Leisel throws her arms around me and hugs me close, either sensing my need for comfort or having missed me because we haven’t seen each other since breakfast.

“Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?” Greta asks.

I smile at her and shake my head. “No, but I’ll read Leisel’s bedtime story to her tonight.” When Greta looks like she might argue, I say, “I need some time with my sister. I haven’t seen her all day.”

Leisel adds, “I want Sierra to read to me,” giving Greta her best doe-eyed look that never fails to get her what she wants.

Chip unravels from where he’s dozing on a smaller pillow on the other side of Leisel’s head, climbs over my sister, and then perches himself on my shoulder, chattering away a greeting in my ear. Then he turns and makes a series of irritated-sounding noises at Greta too, apparently deciding to present a united front along with Leisel and me.

As further enticement to Greta, I say, “I’m sure Cara will be happy to see you a bit earlier tonight. Go home, Greta. We’ll see you in the morning.”

With a small chuckle, Greta stands and hands me the book of fairytales. “I’d like to see my mate as well. Don’t be too long; it’s already quite late,” she tells me, planting a kiss on Leisel’s head. She hesitates before asking me, “Are you aware of the darker stories the young Princess seems to enjoy most? It’s concerning to see such a young and bright child gravitate towards the gory and dismal.”

I let out a faint snort. “Wait until she asks you to reread the goriest, bloodiest, massacre-heavy parts of Shakespearean literature. Then we can talk concerns.” Leisel giggles while Greta trails out of the room, a somewhat perplexed expression on her features, leaving me alone with my sister and her chipmunk.

I tap Leisel’s nose. “Has Greta been giving you a hard time over your reading preferences?”

Leisel’s nose wrinkles as she nods, snuggling closer to me and laying her head on my chest. “I don’t think she likes that I find the normal stories boring. Who wants to read about Prince Charming when you can read about the wicked stepsisters cutting off their toes to fit their feet in a shoe?”

I laugh, flipping open the book to the flagged chapter. Before I start, though, I can’t stop myself from asking my sister, “Is it hard for you on days like today? When we spend most of the day apart?”

Leisel contemplates my question for several moments before shaking her head, sending her hair flying across the pillows. “No. I know you’re out making the world safer and better, so I don’t mind.” She gives me a sly smile before saying, “As long as we eat breakfast together or you read me a story before bed, it isn’t hard.”

I kiss her cheek, feeling my heart swell in my chest as I curve one arm around Leisel, holding her closer and using my free hand to position the book on my lap. “Good. Let’s read about the real story of Rapunzel…”

Leisel falls asleep halfway through the chapter. I put Chip back on his pillow beside her before giving her one last kiss, flicking off the light, and heading back to my adjoined room where I close the door to hers behind me. There, I take a seat at my desk and open the leather folder containing my proposal, resolved to give it one last look to make sure it’s in tip-top shape before presenting it to Camden.

The framework is solid; the proposal’s built for an agenda to expand shifter foreign relations, creating a more cohesive international dialogue that just might save shifters when war with vampires finally reaches a boiling point, which I expect will be soon. It answers a pressing problem that not enough people have considered; what happens if the vampires team up with a species that can naturally use magic, such as the faction of dark faye? That’d leave shifters fighting tooth and claw against powers beyond their greatest comprehension.

The proposed solution is very simple: shifters create a magical alliance with witches, or at least attempt to, first. If it works, it’ll serve as a deterrent to dark faye because, from what Wyatt tells me, even they’d think twice before making an enemy of witches. It would also open a door to much better foreign relations on a global scale. If such a historic interspecies connection and alliance is created, it’ll make room for other connections and alliances that currently seem outlandish and impossible.

The implementation is a bit trickier; although the wording is careful, the proposal basically outlines using me—a particularly rare kind of witch, from what I’m told—to bring a species to the negotiating table. To dangle a queen in front of a species that is by no means friendly with shifters will be difficult to push through on all fronts. I trust Wyatt to take care of the high court, but selling this to Cam is an entirely different story.

Camden doesn’t seem to have any great amount of logic or reason when it comes to me; he works primarily off of instinct, though I have seen him make a pointed effort in curbing that recently in favor of being level-headed. Hopefully, that’ll work to my benefit tonight.

Deciding that it’s best to get the difficult part out of the way now, I stand, close the file, and make my way through the maze of a castle I’m only just starting to familiarize myself with towards Camden’s quarters. Once there, I only have to knock once before the door opens.

Like this morning, he looks surprised to see me, eyebrows rising as he gives me a long up and down look, taking in every nuance of my posture, clothing, and expression.

“I hear you and Wyatt have been plotting together all day,” he says. “Something about foreign policy?”

I frown. “Where did you hear that from?”

Other than a few servants who came in and out to deliver food, books, and documents, we’ve been alone all day.

Camden smiles. “Very little goes on in this castle that I don’t know about.” His eyes drop to the leather binder I’m clutching. “I assume that’s whatever you two came up with?”

I nod, holding the folder out to him. “If you want a chance against the vampires in the case that they make themselves some powerful allies, this is your only way.”

Camden accepts the folder, before stepping aside. “Come on in. I’ll pour you a glass of wine while I go over it.”

I hesitate for a moment because being alone with Camden never goes the way I intend it to. Then, deciding it’s best I’m here when he reads the contents of the folder so I can influence his decision, I nod and follow him inside.