Chapter Thirty-Six
The castle was unusually quiet the following day with few servants hurrying around, a change from the usual hustle and bustle of staff. Wyatt was also nowhere to be found all day, though he did send me a written note this morning informing me that a shifter liaison was on its way to bring our potential treaty to the witches and invite them to Kinrith for negotiations, which means he got the high court on boardveryquickly. I didn’t mind the quiet, workless day; I spent the entirety of it with Leisel, trying to make up for all the time we’ve spent apart recently.
In the morning, a tutor came not only for Leisel but for me as well—Camden stuck to his promise of getting me a proper education. While my inclination to literature has allowed me to teach myself a great deal, I’m not omniscient. During Leisel’s morning lessons with her tutor, mine gave me a series of tests to better understand what areas I need improvement in. I was rather proud when he informed me that the only lessons he saw need to offer were shifter and mythic history, geography, separate worlds, and the general laws of nature all mythics abide by. In terms of most other educational skill sets, he informed me I was better than most. I suppose I have my parents to thank for that,as they drilled me rather pitilessly with studies when I was growing up and taught me the value of knowledge.
After a morning of studies, I took Leisel to the stables so we could ride our horses for the first time in too long, which both of us delighted in. Pack warriors followed us from a distance, of course, but this time I didn’t mind so much—I reveled in galloping across fields and spending time with my favorite small person.
It’s late in the evening, after I’ve read her to sleep—much to Greta’s protest, as “royals shouldn’t concern themselves with such trivial matters”—that I finally arrive in front of Camden’s chambers.
I don’t have to knock this time; the door swings open as soon as I step in front of it, revealing a disgruntled-looking Camden. I feel my eyebrows furrow as I look him over—he has dark circles under his eyes, and his face has a sunken, almost gaunt expression that makes me uneasy. Every time I’ve come to Camden’s chambers, it appears to elate him; this time, however, he looks haunted.
Without beckoning me to come in, he retreats back into the room, leaving the door open. I take the silent invitation, growing steadily more and more anxious as I close the door behind me and examine him where he stands in the corner of the room, appearing lost in thought.
Camden is not his usual self tonight atall. His expression is drawn, his posture is hunched, and he looks…miserable. This has an interesting effect on me; every morsel of my being pushes me to go to Camden, hug him, and offer him comfort from whatever makes him look so miserable.Fucking bond.As I’m not a slave to my instincts, I manage to stay in place in the entryway, but only just.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
Cam blinks before turning his gaze to me, looking a little surprised, as if he forgot I was here. Considering the fact that every time we’veshared a room before now his complete attention was on me, I understand that whatever’s going on must beverybad.
Camden swallows, the gesture looking like it pains him, before telling me, “My father died late last night.” The words come out gravelly and so full of pain, I can’t hold myself back from offering comfort.
I might not be a fan of shifters, but I do have a nurturing streak that came out when I essentially became Leisel’s mother; it’s hard for me to ignore people’s pain, even if they might deserve it. Before now, I was angry enough at Camden to forgo any kindness, but with how our relationship has developed recently, I can’t stop myself from crossing the room and snaking my arms around his shoulders, offering physical comfort I can sense he is indesperateneed of. Camden’s arms come around my waist, clutching me tightly, his hands trembling from the force of his grief.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur in his ear.
He pulls away and says gruffly, “I don’t want your pity.”
“Good, because I have none when it comes to shifters. What I do have isempathyandcompassionfor this specific situation. You may have forgotten this, but my father died when I was thirteen. He was my closest friend, he taught me everything I know, and I never recovered from the loss. I don’t know what your relationship with yours was like, but I do know that no loss is easy.”
That deflates Camden’s ire. He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa, dropping down on the soft cushion before pulling me onto his lap. For once, I don’t fight, because I can sense how deeply he needs contact from me right now, and I just don’t have the heart to deny him.
When my dad died, my mom and I held each other through our grief—the contact helped me know I wasn’t alone. Until she died,too, and I was entirely alone. Nobody to hold me, nobody to reassure me…I know from experience that is a very,verydark place to be, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
I let Camden position me on his lap facing him with my legs on either side of his waist. I drape my arms around his shoulders and let him hold me, feeling the depth of his pain tug on my heart. I would’vekilledto be held like this after Mom passed, so I really can’t fault him from taking comfort or clinging to me.
He buries his head in my neck, holding me so close that our chests are pressed together. I don’t squirm or try to move, I simply let him take what he needs. After a few minutes, I reach my hands up to run them through his hair, my gestures soft and intended to be soothing.
“Why are you being so kind?” Camden asks against my skin. “You hated my father, and with good reason. He let humans die out, wouldn’t even reprimand rogue packs that targeted them.”
I sigh. “I won’t pretend to like your father, just like I won’t pretend to be grateful we never ended up in a room together, butyoucared about him, I can see that, and I can’t ignore your pain. Nobody deserves to grieve alone, not even you.”
His head still buried in my neck, Camden says, “I don’t—didn’t—likemy father, per se, but I did respect him. He was not the fatherly type, but he was a very strong shifter and an even stronger ruler. He created the pyramid structure of packs that protects those on the lowest ranks—something nobody else had cared to do before. He was smart, a quick thinker, and very strategically inclined. I learned a great deal from him.”
I stay quiet, sensing that Camden just needs to be heard right now. Sometimes, that’s the best thing when stuck in grief, a listening ear. Not someone who offers unwanted advice, but someone who’s just willing to sit in your misery with you and offer company.
He goes on, “He was a shitty father, if I’m being honest. Wyatt and I were raised by our mother, and when she passed, the castle staff took over. I don’t know if he ever loved us.” He pauses. “But he did love my mother. She was his sun and moon. Her death nearly destroyed him—most shifters die if their mates do, but he held on. He knew shifters still needed him, so he did the impossible and survived. He’s the strongest, toughest man I’ve ever known. I don’t think shifters will see his like again anytime soon.”
“Sounds like he was an incredible ruler,” I say sincerely.
While I don’t think I would’ve liked Camden’s father as a person, if what he’s saying is true, he had the strength that few others do. A mate dying toanymythic being is usually a death sentence; just about all literature agrees on that. One would have to have a phenomenally strong soul to get through it. I also don’t love that the deceased King wasn’t anything resembling a father to his sons, but then again…monarchy tends to be hard on families. I’ve read countless recounts of how human monarchies tore families apart; why would shifters be any different?
Camden pulls back to stare into my eyes. The intensity of his gaze feels like a physical force weighing me down. He says, “I don’t deserve you, Sierra, but I’m fucking keeping you.”
I smile, a little sadly. “You don’t deserve me, but fate has her tricks. Lucky you, I guess.”
He nods slowly. “Yes. I am lucky. I hope you know there’s no reality that exists in which I’ll ever let you go,especiallynot now.”
“Careful, Cam, that sounds like a threat.”
