The streets are way more crowded than I was expecting, and I bump into a woman who glares at me and snaps, “Watch where you’re going.”
I hold up my hands and apologize, but she doesn’t even stop. I groan as I take in the number of humans flooding our streets, each and every one of them praying and hoping they are going to be the next shifter king or queen.
The parade will start in the shifter zone tomorrow, winding its way through there so shifters can give their thanks to the current king and queens before heading to the neutral zone. The retirement party will then be held in the Aramis Arms, the fanciest hotel in the area. At the zenith of the full moon that night, the goddess Aramis will appear to send out the magic which will pick the next king or queen. It is supposed to mark the chosen human with the goddess’s symbol. King Lucas’s appeared down one side of his face, but it’s different for each of the chosen.
I hear excited chatter and speculation all around me, but I’m not interested in it one bit. I have no delusions of grandeur like a lot of these people seem to have. I’ll leave them to theirdreams of being king or queen and having magic, I am happy just the way I am. The thought of being responsible for a whole race is fucking terrifying, and having magic and being able to shift? Pass. The idea of all my bones breaking and reforming into something new makes me want to hurl—although I’m not sure if that’s how it works exactly. When Archie shifted, I didn’t hear any bones cracking, so maybe it’s not so violent, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain, but it still isn’t for me.
It takes me longer than normal to walk the distance between the bakery and our apartment building, but I refuse to get annoyed. Instead, I just smile and stay out of the crowd’s way. I hate confrontation, and the vibe in the air feels like we’re one sharp word or elbow strike away from an all-out brawl. All this tension in the neutral zone is weird. It’s an area that prides itself on being exactly what it claims to be.
I catch sight of a night watch team patrolling the area, and the crowd gives them a wide berth. Maybe there needs to be a few more available. I watch as a small scuffle breaks out and they step in to break it up. Instead of hanging around to gawk, I keep my head down and move quicker in the direction I need to go.
Finally, I get to the block our apartment is on.
“Mom, where are you?” I call out as I enter her studio through the back alley. Mom’s studio sits on the bottom floor of our apartment building. Above it are two stories with two apartments on each level. I live on the top level in one of the apartments, and Mom lives in the one directly above her studio. She convinced the landlord to put in a set of stairs leading directly to the downstairs retail space. We’ve lived here as long as I can remember. I only recently moved into my own apartment the last two years. Prior to that, I lived with Mom while I went to university and took pastry classes. Mom’s and my relationship has been contentious over the years. I love her, but I am not sad to live separately. She is a difficult woman to please.
“I’m with a client,” she sings back, and I wince. Shit, I’m going to get it now. I fill the kettle and turn it on before pulling out her fancy set of china she saves for her clients. If I’m going to annoy her while she’s with someone, then the least I can do is make everyone a cup of tea, though they may prefer glasses of champagne, so I grab a fancy bottle out of the fridge and some flutes. I can hear more than two voices, so I go for four just in case. While I wait for the kettle to boil, I plaster on my customer service smile and move out into the studio.
My mom is a gorgeous, statuesque woman, a former fashion model turned designer. I get my long black hair from her, but unlike her six foot frame, I max out at five-five. She says it’s my paternal grandmother’s fault. She was a small woman, and apparently, I get my boobs and hips from her too—not that I ever met her. Both of my father’s parents died before I was born, and my father only blew into my mother’s life long enough to make me and cause some deep-seated damage to my mom’s psyche before blowing out again. Her parents tell me she was a different person before him and she loves me, but my father’s departure made her feel inadequate, and now she strives to be the best at everything and expects the same from me.
She has three women with her. They look kind of familiar to me, but I’m not sure why. “Hi, would any of you like a glass of champagne or a cup of tea?” I offer, and my mother’s steely glare softens a little.
“Your Majesties, I’m not sure if you remember my daughter, Colbie. Colbie, this is Queen Layla, Queen Mia, and Queen Evelyn.”
I freeze in shock at my mother’s words before quickly dipping into a curtsy. “Your Majesties.” When I look up, my mom is beaming. Well, at least I did something right.
“Pfft, none of that. You are not a shifter. Just call us by our names, like your mother does.” One of the women approachesme. She’s about the same height as me but slim with blonde hair. She reaches out and puts her hands on my upper arms, giving them a squeeze. “Thank you for making sure our grandson was looked after. We are forever in your debt.” She pulls me into a hug, and her perfume engulfs me like a warm embrace, slightly spicy. Before I can get my stunned self to react, she pulls away. “I’m Evie, and that’s Mia.” She points to the tall black woman who has the same kind of figure as my mom, like a former fashion model but with undeniable shifter strength. My mom is in the middle, showing her some fabric samples. “And that’s Layla.” This woman looks like a goddess. She’s slightly taller than the others but has curves in all the right places, and her mid-length red hair has a slight curl in it. She’s fucking gorgeous, and I may have a slight crush on her. To be honest, I have never paid much attention to the royal family before. I’m a human, so I am not under their rule.
“You made quite an impression on our boy. He has declared you are the love of his life.” Layla’s voice is husky, and all three women chuckle at her words. When I look at my mom, her eyes are just about bugging out of her head.
“You did what?” She forgets about the samples in her hands and looks at me with a panicked expression.
“When I went to work on Monday, I found a tiger cub huddled under some boxes near the dumpster in our alley,” I explain. “I took him inside, called the night watch, and looked after him.”
Three rumbling growls reverberate around the room, and my mom takes a step back from the three women, a hand going to her chest in surprise.
“Yes, we heard all about how badly you were treated by the watch operator. She has been dealt with,” Mia says darkly.
My mom gapes at me, and I shrug. “I only did what any decent human being would have done.” I don’t need any praise for doing the right thing.
“Please pour us all a glass of champagne—don’t forget yourself and your mother—then come and join us,” Evie suggests, waving at the bottle and glasses in my hand.
My gaze slides to my mom, and she gives me a small nod before holding the samples up once more.
“I recently got these fabrics on a trip to the witch kingdom. They are spelled specifically for shifters, so you don’t have to worry about ruining them if you shift,” she explains, holding out the swatches for the three women.
I pour all three queens glasses of champagne as they discuss their requirements with my mother. “We don’t want to overshadow the new queen,” Layla explains. “The previous one did that to us, and it made us feel small.”
“She was a horrid bitch. She didn’t want to give her power up at all, but all the extra magic drains from them as soon as the goddess does her thing. She kept her shifter form, but her extra abilities went straight into Lucas when he was chosen,” Mia says, giving Mom and me an unprecedented glimpse of the whole process. “If she couldn’t upstage us with magic, then she wanted to upstage us in appearance.”
“But if you’ve been queens for the past forty years, you must have been babies when you were selected.” I speak before thinking and then wince at my mom’s glare. All three women break into peals of laughter.
“Oh, sweetie, you’re good for our self-esteem. Shifters age very slowly. All three of us were in our twenties when we were marked as potential mates for Lucas,” Mia explains, taking a sip of her champagne as she studies the samples Mom handed her. Holy shit, that means they are in their sixties but don’t look older than their late thirties.
“And so you basically competed with a whole heap of other women to catch his eye?” My mouth gets the better of me, and again, I’m subjected to one of my mother’s glares. I wince. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked. It was rude,” I apologize, but Layla waves my apology away.
“We trust you won’t share this information with others. The royal family will forever be in your debt, so we are happy to answer your curiosity. Aramis marked a number of potential shifters that would be compatible with Lucas. They all presented themselves to the palace, and he got to know each of them. He wasn’t forced to pick a specific number or any really, but man and animal need to be in agreement. The three of us clicked with him instantly as well as with each other.”
“You’re all in a sexual relationship?” I ask, and this time, my mom doesn’t just glare, she snaps at me.
