by Kat Zaccard
My parents weren’t thrilled that we were leaving again. They didn’t know we had to go somewhere for every full moon, so I told them this was for a school project to understand how government works in Canada. That prompted a peppering of questions I couldn’t answer very satisfactorily.
“See! I really need the extra credit.”
Not being able to argue too much since they’d decided to send me off to boarding school in the first place, they conceded defeat and took us to the airport. On the car ride there, Mom mentioned that maybe I could come back home for school this year instead.
“Mom! You and Dad decided to send me to Mount Henley in the first place. Against my will, I might add.”
“And we’re trying to fix that,” she cut in. Shea looked panicked beside me and gripped my hand tightly.
“No way, Mom. You didn’t give me a choice the first time, but now I’m making the decision. I like Mount Henley. I belong there. I can’t readjust to a new school again.”
“But it would be your old school, Alcee,” Dad put in, using a nickname that used to persuade me to take his side. Now the tactic soured. I wasn’t moved by their sudden desire to have me back home. I had a nation to consider now. Plus, Shea might break my fingers if she squeezed any harder.
“Mom, Dad, I appreciate you want to make up for sending me away last fall. I was pretty angry with you at the time. But I’ve made friends at Mount Henley more easily than I ever did in Greenville. I like it there. Please let me go back?” I phrased it like a question, but I’d no intention of staying should they demand it.
Luckily, Dad conceded, and Mom sighed. “Okay, honey, you’re right. You’re old enough to make that decision. And we’re glad you have Shea.” Mom smiled at her as if just realizing how her comments may have affected Shea.
“Thanks, Mrs. Nacht,” said Shea politely, and her grip on my fingers eased. They dropped us off outside the airport, and we hugged goodbye. Mom was sniffing back big tears of guilt, but I studiously ignored them. I told them both I loved them and wheeled my luggage inside.
“That was a close one!” Shea exclaimed as we made our way to the gate.
“They have a lot of nerve!” I complained.
Shea, as usual, was more forgiving of my parents than me. “It’s sweet that they want you back home,” she suggested gently.
I sighed, my annoyance fading as I considered how lonely Shea’s life must’ve been growing up in an orphanage. She was recruited to Mt. Henley and learned she was a werewolf at age fifteen. “I know, Shea; I should be grateful. With everything going on, navigating their parental pull was more pressure than I expected. I never would’ve stayed, but you’re right. It’s nice to know they still want me home.”
We boarded a commercial plane and waited for liftoff. We had a short flight before we transferred to a private jet in Toronto that would take us to the Winter Palace, located somewhere in the wilderness of Quebec. I was nervous to see the queen, knowing that she’d sent upyr to take my life. Somehow, I had to navigate the High Council and determine who I could count on my side. I realized this trip was much more important than trying to gain allies to annul a betrothal. I had to gain allies that would defy the current regime. If only I had proof that the queen was allied with the upyr. Unfortunately, my damning evidence could implicate me since I was the one in contact with an upyr.
I slapped my forehead in disbelief.
“What is it?!” Shea asked, startled by my sudden movement.
“That’s it! We can call Sloane!”
Shea settled back, looking disgruntled. “That old argument, Alice? You can’t invite her to the High Council. It would only prove you’re the one in cahoots with an upyr!” Shea had made the argument before.
“I know, but maybe she could infiltrate the upyr nest and get evidence for us.”
“Wouldn’t that be kind of dangerous for her?” Shea inquired, which I thought was big of her since she didn’t seem to be much of a Sloane fan.
“Yeah, maybe it’s too risky,” I agreed reluctantly.
Shea thought for a minute, then said, “But maybe she doesn’t have to infiltrate the nest. Maybe she can intercept a messenger?”
“Shea, you’re brilliant!” Shea preened at the compliment.
During our brief layover in Toronto, Shea and I found a secluded spot to make the call. The phone rang a few times, and I worried Sloane wouldn’t answer. But she did!
“Hello?” Her voice was soft and musical, and her accent was funny, old-fashioned in a way I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Sloane? It’s Alice.”
“Alice, are you in trouble?”
I was taken aback by her concern. “No, I’m fine. I’m on my way to the Winter Palace for a council meeting.”
“Ah, then you are in trouble. You must avoid your queen.”
“There’ll be so many people there, she couldn’t try anything.” Suddenly, I felt more nervous about the impending meeting.
“That is true.” I was relieved that Sloane agreed. “Still, I will send scouts to patrol the perimeter incase the upyr king has other plans.”
“I don’t want to put you in danger, and there will be additional patrols and security measures after the attack at school.”
“True. It is unlikely the king will reveal himself until victory is assured, but still I fear for your safety. You’re the only hope for bridging peace.”
I was feeling the pressure that another friend placed the future of her people in my hands.
“We wondered if maybe you could try to intercept communications between our queen and your king?” The pronouns felt a little funny since neither of us bowed to our regents. Still, the message was conveyed, and Sloane agreed to be on the lookout. “We need proof that the Queen Regent is a traitor to her people.”
“Yes, I can see that. The upyr do not care if our king leads us to slaughter, they do not honor a code or even a strong will to live. Some of the undead are more dead than alive. Those of us that fled the nest, we want to hold on to as much joy and life as we can remember. War is no way to spend eternity.”
This was a nice segue for me to ask an awkward and personal question. “Forgive my asking, Sloane, but are the upyr truly undead? I mean, were you always this way or were you once more, um, alive?”
Sloane’s laugh sounded like a tinkling wind chime. “I understand your question, Princess, and we have not gone unaware of our condition. Yes, we upyr are undead. We were once living, but did not stay dead when those lives ended. I myself am starting my second century next year. I have sired no children, but I’ve seen the process done. Only some of the undead can create more. We don’t know why, but some of us maintain our humanity whereas others become primal, more beast than man. The wolves drove us back centuries before my time and we’ve hidden in secret nests in the northern Eurasian continent since then. Our king is young, maybe two decades undead? He rose to power with blood and the promise of revenge on the werewolf nation. But first, he lured the wolf queen into a treaty. We still don’t know how.”
Shea motioned that they’d announced our flight and we needed to get moving. I thanked Sloane for her help and asked her to call me if she got any further information. She badgered me about hiring personal security and said she would be in touch. I hung up the phone and followed Shea through the crowd. When we finally boarded the small jet that would take us on the last leg of our journey, I filled Shea in on everything Sloane had said.
We affirmed that intercepting a message between the upyr and Queen Christina might be our best bet at exposing the conspiracy. Shea elbowed my arm. “You’ve an interesting assortment of friends, Alice.”
I laughed. “And to think this time last year, I didn’t have any!”
Chapter 7
As the plane taxied into the Winter Palace hangar, my anticipation grew. I was anxious and dreading the council meeting. My mind tripped over names and political affiliations as I did my best to mentally categorize the members of the High Council i
nto allies, foes, and unknowns. Sadly, the foes outweighed the allies, so the unknown parties were critical to my success.
Shea nudged me out of my speculations, and we disembarked. If I’d felt pampered at the Osakura Estate, it was certainly elevated to a new level of indulgence at the Winter Palace. A valet greeted us and excused the absence of the queen to formally greet us herself. The valet, Monsieur Durand, ushered us into a vintage limousine and offered us refreshments as he outlined the council itinerary. I remembered my last visit being less formal and wondered if the extra attention was due to my rising popularity or notoriety. I wasn’t sure there was much difference between the two. I suppose it was advantageous either way as long as I remembered who I was. I wasn’t used to being in the public eye and fairly certain I didn’t like it. I turned my attention back to the valet.
“What was that?” I hadn’t been listening.
“I said we’re almost to the entrance closest to your rooms. Would you prefer to have your lady’s maid help you unpack or should I show her to the servant’s quarters?”
“My lady’s maid?”
“Forgive me, I don’t know your name and title. Mademoiselle Winterstone is on my list?” He turned and smiled at Shea. Her face turned red. I had to take a deep breath to control my anger.
“I’m afraid there’s been some mistake, Monsieur Durand. Shea is my guest and she should have the room next to mine.”
“Oh excusez-moi, votre Altesse Royale, please forgive my ignorance. Pardonne-moi, Mademoiselle Winterstone.” Monsieur Durand looked truly flustered. Despite his prejudicial mistake I did notice he didn’t seem to hold the name Winterstone in contempt the way some royals and rich council members did. “I’ll have to rearrange a few guests, but I’ll have adjacent rooms set up at once. In the meantime, would you both care to retire to your suite, votre Altesse Royal?”
“Oui, Monsier, merci,” I agreed, attempting to respond in French and hoping I didn’t lose a constituent over my terrible accent.
Shea and I were escorted to my rooms, and Monsieur Durand hastened to make arrangements to get her rooms ready. I tried to apologize to her, but she waved my attempt away.
“Alice, it is what it is. I’m getting used to being treated like a second-class citizen.” She plopped down on the nearest couch. I sat across from her, squeezing a throw pillow in frustration.
“That’s the problem, Shea. You shouldn’t have to get used to it.” I was angry at the injustice. For all the diversity of the Great Pack, there were still some backward ways of thinking. My bloodline didn’t make me better than anyone else. “I don’t believe that anyone’s name or fortune entitles them to be treated better than anyone else.”
“Yes, I know, but you have to be careful at the council meeting. As much as I want you to shake it up, you still have to get that crown first.”
I groaned. “Do I? Aren’t I putting you, my parents, and everyone I care for at risk by taking on Queen Christina?” I released my death grip on the pillow and slumped back into my seat.
“Maybe there’s a risk to us, but isn’t there a greater risk to the whole pack if you don’t?” Shea leaned forward. “Queen Christina is seriously bad news. She shouldn’t be alpha.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of hard to claim my divine right to the throne when I don’t believe it is my right. It’s a lucky accident.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you are the last Luna, and that’s the current reigning dynasty. Or at least it’s supposed to be despite the usurper sitting on the Luna throne. And haven’t you wondered if your alpha powers don’t in fact make you perfect to lead, maybe even destined?” She shrugged and crossed her legs underneath herself.
“Shea, do you really believe in all that? By that logic, if it’s just about being the strongest or having powerful skills, why not have a Sliver for alpha? Why not Diego, for that matter, with his super wolf?”
“I don’t know, Alice.” She threw her arms up in exasperation. “Maybe you can change some of that when you’re the queen, but you have to see that Queen Christina is dangerous and if Sloane’s intel is accurate, she could destroy the entire pack.”
I sighed. “Yes, I agree, but it still sucks, you know.”
“It sucks to be the leader of the Great Pack?” Shea inquired with a smile, yet I knew behind the teasing, she really didn’t get it.
“I just wish I could feel in control of my fate, my future. I don’t get to go to college and backpack across Europe. I have to take this job I never expected or wanted, and oh yeah, maybe marry a jerk besides.”
Shea shrugged. “The price of glory?”
I threw a pillow at her.
“Hey!” she complained.
“Well, they’re called throw pillows for a reason.”
Shea groaned and rolled her eyes, then she started launching pillows at me. Luckily, the suite had a large seating area with chairs, couches, and settees to supply us with ammo.
A knock on the door ended our impromptu pillow fight, and we called a truce. Brushing back my hair was futile as static lifted my locks in an auburn halo. Shea tried to control her giggles as she threw an armful of pillows onto the nearest couch. I opened the door to find Monsieur Durand. To his credit, he didn’t blink at our appearance or mention the feather stuck in Shea’s hair as he told us Mademoiselle Winterstone’s rooms were ready. Shea followed him out and I trailed behind to see what her rooms looked like.
My suite was three rooms large, so I wasn’t surprised when the room next door was the length of a hallway away. Monsieur Durand opened the door and handed Shea the key. He gave us a tour of the room and asked if everything was to our satisfaction. He apologized again for the mistake. “Usually, guests and staff are clearly marked. I don’t know how the information was mistaken, but I take full responsibility.”
I cut off what promised to be a lengthy apology and assured him we were quite satisfied with the arrangements. Monsieur Durand bowed out of the room and we were left to inspect Shea’s rooms. There was already a large fruit basket filled with assorted meats, crackers, and jellies along with every fruit I could imagine. Shea cautiously inspected the card. “It’s made out to me!”
I glanced at the card. “It’s in French!” I complained. Had I known I’d be living in Canada, I would’ve chosen to study French over Spanish as a kid. Thinking of Diego suddenly, I decided there were advantages to continue both languages at school.
Shea translated the note, then we toured her suite. Shea’s rooms were lavish in shades of green and grey that made a lovely backdrop for her rose-gold curls. She had a large sitting room with an adjacent dining area, a smaller but not small parlor that overlooked the gardens in back of the palace, and a large bedroom with a wide crescent veranda. The rooms were as posh as mine and clearly intended for royalty. I was pleased with Monsieur Durand and his staff.
We headed back to the front room. Shea tried to bring the enormous welcome basket to the coffee table, but it proved too large and cumbersome to move successfully. We sat at the tall chairs around the counter and dug into the basket. We did our best naming exotic fruit like huolong guo, star fruit, guava, and taste-testing the unknown. We were just starting to name the nuts when there was a knock at the door.
Shea hesitantly opened the door, surprised to find Nadia on the other side of it. Nadia swept into the room and glanced around. “They do quick work, I’ll give them that.” She smiled as she turned back to us.
I quirked an eyebrow at Nadia, who I knew appreciated it when I aimed for subtlety. “I heard about the room snafu,” she explained. “Monsieur Durand was furious at the mix-up. I think he would have literally bitten someone’s head off if he didn’t also know how difficult it’d be to clean the rugs.” Nadia’s idea of a joke also had the air of an heiress.
“I didn’t want to cause any trouble,” Shea said.
“Nonsense,” Nadia responded before me. “He has every right to be furious, as do you. You’re a royal guest; what happened was unacceptable. I�
�m sure the Queen Regent did this as a slight to Alice.”
“You think?” I asked.
“Of course. It’s pretty narrow-sighted if you ask me. The only one put out is her own staff, which ultimately reflects poorly on her.” Nadia didn’t need to roll her eyes—her tone did it for her. As much as she supported equality over classism, I couldn’t help wondering if she looked down on a Queen Regent that wasn’t a true royal. Something about her comments reminded me of the Dowager Duchess from Downton Abbey. But her statement was sincere and she’d never held Shea’s birth-status against her. The queen, on the other hand, was a social opportunist and known to dismiss Clan Winterstone.
“Argh, I hate that bitch.” I clenched my fist.
“Yes, well, I suppose if her goal was to unsettle you, she accomplished that,” Nadia stated drolly.
“And someone got moved out of their room because of me,” Shea whined. “That won’t help me garner support for your cause, Alice.”
Again, Nadia beat me to it. “Don’t worry about it, Shea. The only one displaced was me, and despite the minor inconvenience, I actually respect Alice more for insisting you have the rooms next to hers.”
Shea looked speechless, and I laughed. Smiling at Nadia, I offered her a slice of star fruit. Shea had her own copy of the schedule of events, which we inspected while munching.
According to the itinerary, there was an informal dinner tonight with some of the dignitaries from abroad. Informal still meant fancy dress, and Shea said she felt intimidated. I reminded her that afterwards we’d attend an actually informal run. Any dinner was worth that! Plus, I had to be seen. I needed to gather support to annul my betrothal to Logan. Some of the council members would arrive in the morning, so a more formal dinner for the council members and guests was scheduled for the next evening. The council meeting was scheduled for the day after that, which was also the full moon.