I’m not sure what dinners here are like, but if the mannerisms of the servants and castle alone are anything to go by, they’ll be formal, tiring events with too many people and too much food, most of which will go to waste.
Camden’s eyes narrow. “It can’t be later than one right now. That means you can get around seven hours of sleep, which should be sufficient.”
He probably thinks I’m trying to make an excuse to get out of spending time with him. Admittedly, it certainly is a plan of mine—but not the reason I want to skip tonight’s meal. Right now, I’m genuinely worried for the welfare of my sister, and in no mood to cart her around.
“If she’s awake, we’ll attend dinner. If not, we won’t,” I say with absolute finality.
I don’t care about Camden’s position as Alpha—there’s simply no way I’ll ever bow to his whim. I’m sensing that he wants to be the main figure in my life, wants to occupy my every thought and action—the way it’s said to be between mates—but that’ll simply never happen.Leisel’s been the primary figure in my life for nine years, and that won’t change now that I have a mutt trying to attach himself to my side.
Camden’s lips thin and his eyes flare with irritation, an instinctual reaction to disobedience—something he doesn’t have much experience with, I’m sure. Well, I’m more than happy to introduce him to what it’s like tonotget what he wants when he wants it.
Wyatt walks up beside Camden and rests a calming hand on his arm. “Cam,” he says softly. “Look at Leisel—she’s half asleep. Humans can’t keep up with our stamina.”
Camden turns an irritated glare to Wyatt. “They’re not humans.”
I debate whether or not to point out my displeasure at being spoken of in the third person but am too curious to watch the power exchange between the Alpha and Beta brothers to intervene. If there’s discord among them, that’s an advantage I intend to press on. Considering how abruptly I was taken from my life and brought here, I think I’ll be happy to sew strife wherever I can in turn.
“They’re not mythics either,” Wyatt points out. “They need rest and rehabilitation after taxing events. Let them rest.”
After a moment, Camden turns back to me, his irritation having visibly dimmed. “Do you intend to sleep?” he questions.
I’m curious as to why that matters, considering the monumental amount of stress he’s happy to heap on me. “Yes,” I lie.
His brows draw together. “Was that a lie?”
That gives me pause and brings a new question to my mind; whether or not he can sense if I’m lying through the bond that connects us.
“I don’t know, was it?”
Camden studies me in silence for several moments, and I gain confidence that he doesn’t know through the mate bond whether or not I’m lying—he’s simply using deductivereasoning to draw conclusions. I haven’t slept since I met him, so it’s more than likely I won’t sleep now.
I know that, eventually, fatigue will overwhelm me to the point where I’ll pass out, but hopefully that time is later rather than sooner. I’ll think about the repercussions when I face them. For now, I have a different set of priorities, all of them surrounding the safety and well-being of my sister. I can’t see to those if I’m asleep.
Instead of responding, Camden turns towards the castle and starts walking. “Follow me.”
“Do you need me to carry you?” I ask Leisel, worried that she’ll topple over at any second.
She wearily shakes her head, pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face and tucking them behind her ear before taking my hand. I nod, plant a quick kiss on the crown of her head, and then follow Camden as he walks into the castle.
Wyatt walks alongside his brother, and I study him as he moves. He appears to be more level-headed than Camden, though I’ve seen snippets of his temper as well. The two seem reasonably close as siblings, which makes sense since they likely grew up being groomed to take over Alpha and Beta positions. Beyond that, they were prepared for duties that reach far beyond those of a mere Alpha or Beta because they aren’t just responsible for overseeing a single pack; they’re responsible for overseeingallof them.
Wyatt hasn’t particularly pressured Leisel—not like Camden’s pressured me. Maybe it’s because he’s worried about frightening her, maybe it’s because he understands the concept of his mate needing space. More likely, however, their mate bond hasn’t yet begun to develop, since Leisel’s far from maturity.
When Camden said Wyatt views Leisel more as a sister, and his feelings will only change when she comes of age, I sense that he was tellingthe truth. That only affords me a small measure of comfort, however, since I believe Wyatt will eventually push to spend one-on-one time with my little sister, which is not something I’ll be accepting of.
Inside the castle, servants bustling about their daily tasks all greet the four of us warmly and formally. It’s obvious Camden spread word of me and Leisel as soon as he found us because it seems everyone already knows us by name and title.Queen and Princess, Alpha female and Beta female, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highness.The shifter’s version of nobility. It serves as an irritant that I’ve gone from an impoverished human-adjacent toroyaltysimply by rights of being fated to the Alpha and King. Twenty-three years of having very little has suddenly morphed into deference and splendor I wouldn’t have ever dreamed of.
I walk hand in hand with Leisel through a grand stone foyer, past so many rooms I lose count, and up several flights of stairs. When we pass a room decorated with paintings and statues, I pause, drawn to it. At the far end of the room, visible from the entrance, is a beautiful marble statue depicting a young woman with an outstretched hand. In her palm rests a brilliant blue stone so dazzling I can’t seem to look away from it. I’m more enchanted than I’ve ever been. I can’t seem to pry my eyes away from the gemstone specifically—it fascinates me in a way I’ve never experienced. I’ve never seen jewels up close, only in pictures, and the way the light glints off of it, bathing the stone flooring in brilliant shades of blue enthralls me.
Camden’s hand landing on my arm is what finally manages to tear me away, as I step back to evade his touch.
He glances from me to the gem with a small smile on his lips. “It appears that a witch’s acquisitiveness extends to those with earthly powers,” he murmurs as if making an observation to himself.
At my puzzled look, he elaborates. “Witches of other realms are known for being inexplicably drawn to precious objects—gold, jewels, anything shiny that has great value. Gifts as well. It’s a common practice among their soulmates to use gifts as a wooing tactic.” His gaze wanders to the statue. “Perhaps that’s why you’re so drawn to art—it was the most precious thing surrounding you as you grew up.”
I’m startled that he noticed such a thing about me, but then I consider his comment about gifts.
Although it lowers my self-respect considerably, there’s something…compelling about being given something by another person. Not in a quid pro quo situation—where a mutually beneficial exchange takes place—but when someone puts enough forethought to devote resources and effort into giving a gift. Especially a meaningful gift—something invariably expensive, or simply priceless, such as beautiful or timeless art.
