Leonard raises his hands. “Fine. Relax. If you won’t talk to me about it, then maybe take a few days to decompress.Spend time with your family. Regroup. Something. Jokes aside, spending time with your enemy, no matter how gorgeous she is, had to be stressful.”
“It was fine. I had an entire week to relax and decompress. I’m sick of it. Besides, I’m inspired by a new area of study.”
As I say the words, the tension and distractions of the morning dissipate, and the knot that has been plaguing the back of my neck all week slowly unwinds. I knew I was tense because I couldn’t focus on my new study, but I didn’t realize to what degree.
Leonard’s eyebrows shoot up. “First you come back alive, then you say your honeymoon was fine, now you’re inspired. I’m afraid to ask what transpired in your marriage bed.”
I roll my eyes and choose to ignore my best friend’s quips. “I want to look into the ancient midwifery traditions. Specifically, the acolytes of Eileithyia.”
“You want to study birthing magic?”
“Precisely.”
“You’re serious.”
“Deadly.”
“I know you’re a man of peculiar interests, Marcus. But this has to be the oddest rabbit hole you’ve been down. And that includes the ancient mating rituals of the southern provinces. I thought I was going to have to remove my eyes with silver spoons.”
“No one asked you to scratch around in my files. Besides, this is practical. These things take time, and I need to be ready when she is. You know it won’t be long before our families start pressuring us to produce an heir. Not to mention if we don’t, the council will insist for the sake of peace, don’t you think?”
My stomach clenches around the words, and the dread and doom I’ve been feeling hit me once more.
“I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always prepared.”
I shrug. “She’s my responsibility. Even if neither of us asked for it.”
Leonard shoots me a look. “And this has nothing to do with Esmerelda over the responsibility?”
“I don’t like repeating myself, but like I said, she’s my responsibility.”
One eyebrow quirks up ever so slightly, but he doesn’t call me out on my tone.
“So, you plan on producing an heir of your own?”
“It’s expected.” My tone tells him to drop it. I stare back up at my computer, ignoring the images flashing through my mind of how exactly I would give Esmerelda an heir. Images that have nothing to do with labs and test tubes and more to do with sweat, heavy breathing, and skin on skin.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I really need to get some sleep. Maybe Esmerelda is right, and the jet lag is getting to me. But sleep will have to wait. Any deviation from my routine will have Leonard asking more questions. And I never take naps in the middle of the day. I stare at the hands of the clock. They seem to mock me by how fast they march on their revolution. On one hand, the evening can’t come soon enough—the promise of sleep and, with it, the peaceful respite of being unconscious long enough for the noise to stop in my head. On the other hand, it will mean the day Esmerelda invades my space, for the rest of my life, is creeping in all the sooner.
Leonard’s voice breaks the silence. “You don’t have to carry all this alone, you know.”
I don’t look up from my computer. “I know.”
“But you will anyway.”
There’s no point in stating the obvious, so I remain silent.
9
ESMERELDA
As I stare at my wardrobe, the rows of clothing feel like an insurmountable mountain. The silk, cashmere, and satin all blend together in a blur of color and patterns that offer no comfort. At times like these, I wish I’d been more cooperative when Min first became my lady-in-waiting. I wish I’d been okay with her picking my outfits back then, but I couldn’t get on board with the idea of having someone do something for me that I can do myself.
I’m tempted to shift into my wolf for the day. That would one hundred percent solve the problem. No choices to make, no obligations, just me and my beast.
The idea of slipping into the wildness of it, the simplicity, feels like the escape I need. No pressure, just the raw feeling of being free with no obligations hanging over me.
But as I stand here staring at the clothing, I realize it has nothing to do with the choices. It never did. It’s not about the decisions on the surface. It’s about all the other decisions piling up beneath it all, each layer heavier than the last, and now it’s crushing me.
