I take several beats of silence once Wyatt’s done talking, mulling over everything he’s said. I can’t say I disagree—this is clearly a topic that he’s spent a significant amount of time contemplating. He also seems to genuinely care about the sociopolitical state of this planet, which is more than I’ve observed of Camden.
Camden cares about shifters and only shifters, while Wyatt has a broader view of the world, which I can appreciate. A broader view isn’t going to cut it if I’ll be allowing Wyatt to step into Leisel’s life, however.
I point out calmly, “Interesting that while referencing human history you neglect to mention humans.”
Wyatt volleys back, “Because you’ve been trying to wipe each other out for thousands of years—there’s plenty of written text to support that. It’s only recently that new species of beings made their homes here—”
“And since that has happened, you’ll notice that the human population has dropped by something likeeight billion humans,” I interrupt, growing irritated.
Wyatt holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m not denying that the invasion of mythics is the worst thing to ever happen to the human population, but let’s not forget that this planet was on the precipice of the sort of war that would have destroyed it. The day we invaded was the same day one of the most progressive governments of the time was gearing up to launch a nuclear weapon to the other side of the world. Had that weapon gone off, it would have prompted several other nukes to be launched. Then there would have been nothing left on this planet to guide us here—all of the plant, animal,and humanlife would’ve been wiped out.”
Wyatt’s right, whichinfuriates me. All historical accounts agree on one thing; the day mythics actually made their way onto Earth could’ve otherwise been a doomsday. It was in the middle of the third and last World War, one that almost ended all life on Earth permanently. Threats of nuclear bombings had been made from all sides of the conflict, and the civilians of the world spent several months holding their breath, wondering each morning if that day would finally mark the start of the nuclear holocaust.
Instead of nukes going off on every continent, turning Earth into a wasteland, we received the invasion of mythics.
Much of the outcome for humans was the same as it would’ve been otherwise; most of the humans are dead. The only standing difference between what inevitably would have been and what is, is that the Earth is now lush with nature and greenery and wildlife that humans almost wiped out entirely.
I will never forgive mythics for the part they played in the mass deaths of humans, but I’ll also never forgive humans for almost destroying the planet they were gifted. My magic is a product of the very thing they almost annihilated for their own selfish ends and desires.
Is that the moral of the story? Everywhere I look, every species I consider, is awful in its own way? Humans are the very embodiment of self-serving, having almost been the reason for their own destruction. Shifters only care about the pack and hierarchy. Witches and faye care about nature and their own covens and clans. Vampires care about killing anyone who isn’t one of them, evidently because shifters haven’t left them much of another choice.
“Maybe that’s just the nature of being alive,” I murmur dejectedly. “One person’s prosperity has always come at the cost of another’s from the beginning of time. That was the case with the nomads and all the civilizations that followed. One kingdom would flourishby destroying another. One government would become stronger by bombing its opposition, often killing far too many innocents in the process. And later on, after the invasion, species of mythics could prosper and live, only at the cost of human death and suffering.”
“I don’t think life is quite so nihilistic,” Wyatt volleys back easily, bumping my shoulder with his. “If it was, things like fate and destiny wouldn’t exist. Yes, in the grand scheme of things, we’re all insignificant ants, but we don’t live in the grand scheme of things—we live for finite periods, and what we do has the potential to affectmanylives that’ll follow ours.”
The light of the castle illuminates our surroundings the closer we get to it, and I notice many floating orbs of light scattered about. They’re beautiful, and I realize now that they’re probably a courtesy of one of Claude’s spells.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see what fate and destiny have in store for us,” I say as we cross the courtyard and step through the entrance of the palace.
“I think it’s pretty clear that, whatever the endgame with us is, our actions are going to inevitably impact alotof people. That’s our burden.”
The rest of the walk is in comfortable silence as Wyatt guides me through many halls, passageways, and staircases on our way to his brother’s personal wing. Once we’re in front of a large twin-arched double door, Wyatt says, “I’ll see you later when we take your sister to the library. Maybe she can grill me on my knowledge of books too.”
With a half-smile, he strolls away, and I nervously finger the hem of my shirt as I face the entrance to Camden’s wing. Before I can knock to announce my presence, the door slides open, revealing my treacherous mate.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Iexpect Camden to look his best for our dinner tonight, to try to tempt me. What I don’t expect is for him to be so successful. The moment I see him, I have to stop my jaw from dropping. He’s always well dressed, whether he’s in simple clothes or a suit, but I’ve never found my eyes glued to his corded biceps and broad shoulders, visible beneath the well-tailored fabric of his dress shirt. Or the way his forearms, thick and veiny, are exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of said shirt. Or the way his eyes are locked on me with a singular intensity that makes me feel like a deer faced down with a hunter’s crossbow.
I’m filthy from spending the entire day shedding blood, sweat, and tears to ward the entire castle grounds, which areveryexpansive. If I gave a shit what Camden thought of me, I might feel embarrassed at my appearance—my shirt and pants covered in grass, dirt, and blood. As it is, I only feel resentful of the Alpha for fucking me over last night,literally.
“You look like you’ve had quite the day,” he remarks calmly, stepping aside and motioning for me to enter the room with an arm.
“You have a very large estate, and seeing as Leisel is quite the explorer, I wanted to ward as much of it as possible,” I respond, tentatively stepping into the room and looking around.
I’m in what appears to be a living room—decorated in royal blues and silvers, it has a high ceiling with gorgeous glass prisms serving as lightbulbs that bathe the entire room in light, wooden flooring, and a beautiful fireplace with a silver-encrusted carved mantel. In front of the fireplace is a large blue sofa, and across the room, a square table large enough to seat four people is set with dishes, silverware, glasses, and an array of delicious looking foods.
Leading me over to the table with a hand hovering above the small of my back, Camden asks, “How did it go? Were the wards successfully placed?”
I nod. “Yes. The crown’s entire land is safe, and Claude suspects anyone who tries to cross the wards without invitation or with ill intent will perish.”
Camden smiles at me, looking genuinely proud and pleased. “I know everyone will sleep easier knowing they’re protected by one of the strongest witches of our times. Thank you, Sierra.”
This is the second time he’s thanked me for something in twenty-four hours, and I don’t know how to respond to a display of common decency from him. Generally, from what I’ve seen, he has very little. While my observations of Camden thus far have been clouded by a deep personal disdain towards his existence, it is evident that he was raised in a very particular way that didn’t teach him the value of commonplace manners, such as everyday politeness.
While I can understand that, as a king and Alpha, Camden’s not in a position in this world to indulge in niceties, I also dislike feeling like I’m a puppet on strings, and Camden has a keen way of making those around him feel like objects. Things to be used to achieve a desiredoutcome. My usefulness to him is as his mate; as the only person who can sire heirs to him, strengthen him, and complete his soul. I’m his path to success, prosperity, and happiness, whereas he is the person who’s turned my life upside down without a single care as to how it’d affect me.
Since I’ve already said much of that aloud, I settle on an awkward, “You’re welcome.”
