Chapter Thirty-Nine

In the days that follow, I’m too swept up with duties and tasks and preparations for the upcoming negotiations to do much thinking about the bite mark that now permanently graces my neck or the fact that I still can’t fathom how what was meant to be a night sharing a bed devolved into what it did. Honestly, keeping my mind off of it is a relief—being buried in work, I don’t even have to see Camden, which means I don’t have to confront the reality of my new situation quite yet. He has his own tasks to tend to, both related to his father’s funeral in the coming weeks and to the war that’s fast approaching, so we don’t see much of each other.

I do, however, spend a great deal of time with Wyatt, who seems unusually subdued and quiet, staying task-oriented with minimal conversation. I assume that it’s grief from his father’s death that has him down, though I got the impression from Camden that there was little love lost between his brother and father.

The evening before the negotiation day, when the witches will enter Kinrith and come to the palace for discussions, I’m quarantined in the war room with Wyatt, putting in yet another very late night of work to make sure everything is ready. After a week of hearing only minimalistic answers from him, his usual sociopolitical rants absent, I’m starting to get a tad worried. I can’t have him acting like a living corpse when the witches show up.

I don’t think he’ll respond to me straight up asking what crawled up his ass and died—he might consider it a tad too forward—so I decide to be a little bit more covert with my inquiry.

As we’re going over pages upon pages of framework for the treaty we intend to propose, papers and books scattered in front of us on the table holding the world map, I ask Wyatt, “Were you close with your father?”

He glances up from the book he’s reading, appearing a little startled at my question. Considering our conversations the last few days have been kept strictly to negotiations and everything surrounding them, I can’t fault his surprise.

After a second, he snorts and shakes his head. “My father was an absolute prick with few morals and even fewer ethics. He refused to look outside the scope of shifters’ lives, and he punished anyone who tried to tell him he was wrong. I was not close with him at all.”

I nod slowly, taking in the new information. “So…you didn’t have a good relationship with him like Camden?”

Wyatt makes a face of faint disgust. “No, I did not hold the position in his eyes and heart as the golden heir—I was the spare, and one he considered too opinionated. I was always too loud with too many ideas and too sharp a mind—something he saw as a potential threat to the crown.” He pauses, a sad smile creeping onto his face. “Father actually intended to send me across the world to live and train with the warrior pack when I was fourteen. That’s how much he wanted me gone.”

Well, shit. Deeply interested in this peek into the not-so-great aspects of royal life, I ask, “What happened?”

“Camden found out,” he tells me, “and told our father that if he sent me away, Cam would refuse the throne and abdicate the first chance he got as king. They got into a fight, a physical one, and that was the day it became clear that Camden was an even stronger Alpha with a far more dominant wolf than our father. After that, Dad quit trying to shut me down and instead decided to ignore me. A few years later the severing of the mate bond between him and Mom really started to take its toll, so he slowly started shifting his duties to Camden, effectively making my brother the Alpha and King. When Dad’s…problems became too dangerous for him to be at court, he moved away to a home he shared with my mother when she was still alive on the far west side of the royal property, a few miles away. I didn’t have to see him much after that.”

I stare at him wide-eyed, a little stunned. I could sense from the beginning that the brotherly bond between Camden and Wyatt was strong, but I didn’t expect any of this. To hear that Camden effectively put himself and the crown itself at risk to protect Wyatt is certainly unexpected—I didn’t think Camden was capable of doing anything that could jeopardize the crown and, by extension, shifter kind around the globe. Evidently, his loyalty to his own runs deep. I have to say…that’s comforting in its own way.

I’m still not okay at all with him abruptly marking me, but at the same time…didn’t I bite and scratch and claw at him too? Besides, if he shows the loyalty to me that he’s apparently capable of showing to Wyatt, I suppose there are worse fates than to be tied to him. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone with his power and reach on my side, protecting both me and my sister.

Still interested to hear more, I ask Wyatt, “What problems are you referring to with your father? Does the severing of a mate bond cause chronic illness if a mythic happens to survive it?”

Wyatt sighs, pushing away the book in front of him. He stands, wanders over to the bar cart in the corner of the room, and pours himself a glass of whiskey before returning to his seat.

“Shifters who are unfortunate enough to survive the severing of the mate bond will never be the same person they were before. When your mate dies, they take a good chunk of you with them, forever changing the rare survivor. That change is soul-deep, affecting personality, thinking, emotions…everything that makes a person who they are. Eventually, the severing of a mate bond can drive shifters to a state of madness, where they border on rogue. On top of that, it also impairs a shifter’s usually pristine health; they become susceptible to diseases that would otherwise never touch them.” He pauses to take a sip. “For the first month after my mother died, Dad didn’t come out of his room. He had the high court deputize and carry out duties in his stead. The month after that, he started showing his face, but he was…stricter. Less patient. Crueler, some might say. This didn’t affect his reign—he’d never allow that—but it did affect people in the castle. In the years that followed, his decision making became impaired. He was perfectly conscientious of this; I overheard him telling Cam that he couldn’t in good conscience continue to act as King of shifters, Alpha of Alphas. When his mood swings became too erratic, and he became prone to rages, he left of his own volition. By then, he’d trained my brother up pretty well. Not long after, he started getting sick physically. Colds, at first, but then more serious afflictions followed. His internal organs weakened and his skeletomuscular structure became frail. Last week, he died of cardiac arrest—a heart attack.”

“What do you mean by rages?” I ask. “The usual, as in a person being angry, or is it something more?”

Wyatt lets out a dark laugh. “A wolf in a rage is a very, very dangerous thing. The best way to describe it is a state where their mind fogs over with fury clouding any rationale or reasonable thought. I’ve seen shifters in rages tear rooms apart, hurt loved ones, even kill their best friend…things they’d never otherwise do. At the end of his stay in the castle, my father got into rages a great deal, and in the unlucky times I was around I’d bear the brunt of his aggression.”

I look Wyatt up and down, contemplating his words. He doesn’t seem like a grieving son as he talks. Instead, one could assume we’re discussing the weather. It’s not that he’s numb, exactly, more so that he just doesn’t seem to care all that much about his father, or lack thereof. Maybe that’s because the deceased King never really treated Wyatt like a son.

My father was my closest friend, most trusted confidant, and the most revered figure in my life. I adored him. When Leisel asks about him, I still get choked up while going over my most precious memories. It pains me that she never got to know our father, never got to feel his love the way I did for thirteen years, so I try to channel the teachings of both our parents with her.

I can see plainly that Wyatt holds no reverence for his father like I did, and little respect for him, at that. I’m getting the feeling more and more that Camden was Wyatt’s prime father figure in life, on top of being an Alpha and premature ruler.

“So, it wouldn’t be appropriate to tell you I’m sorry for your loss?” I question, trying for a light tone.

Wyatt grins. “Nope. When I heard the news, I celebrated.”

I wince. “He was that bad to you?”

Wyatt shrugs, going for nonchalant, but I notice the tense set of his shoulders. “He was never good to me, Sierra. That’s for damn sure.” After a pause, he goes on, “Since we’re getting nice and personal here, would you mind if I ask you a question?”

I try to keep myself from visibly tensing at that. I’m not a fan of being open—that probably comes from spending my life shielding my family’s secret from my village, only for that secret to be exposed and then openly accepted by most of my fellow villagers, which shocked me. Since Wyatt and I are technically family now that my bond’s consummated with Camden, though that thought brings me deep discomfort, I reply, “Go for it.”

Wyatt drops his eyes to my neck, where the mark from Camden is still a bit sore, and says, “You and Cam completed your mating fairly out of the blue. I can sense that the bond within you isn’t totally stable or at full capacity, which means there are still some barriers you need to overcome, but it’s marked and consummated. Are you okay with that?”

What a strange question. Wyatt is the first person in this castle who has posed it; I’ve received nothing but congratulations and exhilaration from everyone else I cross paths with, save for Leisel. My little sister was as startled by this development as I was, but calmed when I told her it isn’t the end of the world, and that she can view it as an extra layer of protection for us.

“I…I’m not sure. I haven’t actually spoken to or even seen Camden since the morning after the blood moon. He’s been busy with realm and military things, and I’ve been swept up in all this,” I say, nodding at the tomes and scrolls covering the table.

Wyatt nods. “You don’t seem not okay with it, which is good by my estimation. If you want to hear it, could I offer a piece of advice?”

“I’d appreciate it,” I say.

Wyatt meets my eyes and tells me bluntly, “My brother adores you. He’s possibly already in love with you. There’s little he wouldn’t do to keep you, but there’s also little he wouldn’t do for your happiness. When you inevitably clash, keep that in mind. He’s an idiot, which is surprising for a ruler of such intelligence, but he isn’t cruel or malicious to people who don’t earn his wrath. If I were you, I’d use the way he felt about me to my advantage and gain concessions.” He pauses as a half-smile forms on his lips. “Now, let’s finish up here and get some rest. It’s a big day tomorrow for all shifters.”