8. A Bridge Too Far
8
A Bridge Too Far
Caspian
“Are you pleased, sir?”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, unable to find a single flaw in Mr. Trenton’s work. He’s served as the High Chamber tailor since my grandfather was clan alpha, and his skill level guarantees his position is secure.
“Perfect as always, Allen. Thank you.”
He bows with a faint smile, then gathers his things. Holding my breath, I pray he leaves quickly, so I don’t have to keep pretending. Pretending that a well-fitting suit makes any of this better.
He’s done and closes the door behind him, leaving Archibald and I alone in my dressing room. My movements are rough and angry as I undo the tie from around my neck, then snatch it off. Archibald stares as I yank off my jacket in the same manner.
“Are you all right, Sir? Is the suit not to your liking?”
“It’s not the suit,” I grumble.
“Then, what is it? Is there anything I can do?”
I lift my gaze to meet his in the mirror. “Not unless you can somehow cancel the introductions scheduled for tomorrow.”
As the hours pass, and tomorrow draws closer, I’m boiling over, frustrated with the state of things. Archibald’s expression softens when he seems to finally be putting two and two together.
I hate this. Everything about it actually—the idea of accepting these women into my home, the thought of doing so causing Annalise pain.
“Damn it!”
My shoulders heave when I stop halfway through unbuttoning my shirt, fighting the urge to slam my fist against the mirror. And it isn’t until I begin to pace with hopes of settling my anger that I notice another tremor rippling down my arm to my hand.
When I grip it to my chest, without needing to peer up, I feel Archibald’s eyes on me. “Have a seat, Sir. Please.”
“I don’t need to have a fucking seat. What I need is to be whole, to be as strong and virile as an alpha is meant to be. Not some… broken piece of shit slowly losing control of his own body.”
Quick, shallow breaths puff from my nostrils as I seethe, gritting my teeth as I think of how ironic it really is. To be born into our clan’s most formidable bloodline, only for that very bloodline to be tainted with a hidden weakness. One that guarantees my reign will be cut short.
“Perhaps we should consider canceling tomorrow’s festivities. I’m beginning to wonder if the excitement of the event isn’t the cause of your… malady. ”
“My malady is the reason tomorrow’s event is necessary, Archibald.” I glance down at my hand, feeling the vibration of it against my chest as I hold it there. “And the sooner the better.”
I don’t say as much out loud, but the episodes are becoming far more frequent, and I fear it’s only a matter of time before they worsen. When I glare at Archibald’s reflection, he lowers his head.
“Very well, Sir. I only wish I could make sense of things.”
“There’s nothing more to make sense of,” I snap. “With things progressing so quickly, there’s no telling how long I have left to produce an heir. Taking multiple mates puts the numbers on my side. The more offspring I can produce, the better off our clan will be, because should the eldest ever show signs of having inherited my illness, there will be viable options for replacement. Options that would mean the clan has a chance to be ruled by an alpha who isn’t… broken.”
The room falls silent, and I reflect on my decision, wishing there were some other way, but there simply isn’t.
“I understand, Sir, but perhaps if you returned even one of Phaedra Bellrose’s calls, she?—”
“Absolutely not,” I interject, casting a firm look his way. “Things may be dire, but I refuse to sell my soul to the devil.”
“But don’t you think that if?—”
Archibald falls silent when a knock hits the dressing room door.
“Come in.” I continue undoing my buttons as I speak, erasing the look of frustration from my face.
“Is this a bad time to talk?” Creed asks.
“Not at all.” I flash a look toward Archibald who clearly disagrees.
Creed steps in, closing the door behind himself. I note the tension in his brow and brace myself for the impending news.
“There was an incident.”
I toss my shirt aside, reaching for the one I’d worn before the fitting. “An incident?”
Creed nods. “Between Dimitri and Annalise.”
My movements stop, and I stare at Creed through the mirror.
“I only caught the tail end of the situation, but a server filled me in on the details I missed. Apparently, one of Annalise’s maidens spilled wine, Dimitri was less than gentlemanly about it, and… we’ll just say Annalise wasn’t amused.”
When he finishes speaking, I’m aware of how my breathing has deepened. “Did he touch her?”
Creed immediately shakes his head. “No.”
My shoulders relax, knowing I won’t have to do my brother bodily harm tonight. “Where is she now?”
“Still in the drawing room with her maidens. I believe they’re selecting fabric for dresses to wear to the Spring Ball.”
“And Dimitri?” I ask as my brow cinches.
“I told him to walk it off, but he’s likely back in his quarters by now.”
Straightening my cuff, I break eye contact with both men, working to keep my anger in check. Even without having every single detail, I can guess this blowup was completely avoidable, and it was likely also completely my brother’s fault. Let’s just say the man has a way with words.
“Pardon my intrusion,” Creed says. “I don’t mean to be meddlesome, nor do I mean to betray Dimitri’s confidence. I’m just certain you’ll hear about the incident one way or another, and I figured you should hear it from me.”
“You’ve done the right thing,” I assure him.
“But, Alpha… may I make a suggestion?”
I slip back into my shoes as I nod. “Of course.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Dimitri to continue monitoring Annalise,” he says. “I know there are clan standards in place for checks and balances, but I believe that if I talk to him, I can convince him to stand down.”
“Who would take his place? You?”
He shakes his head. “No, Zara. Her presence would be far less imposing than Dimitri’s, but she’d serve the same purpose.”
When Creed mentions his twin sister, I think of the many duties she already fulfills within the High Chamber.
“Are you sure she’d want that?”
He nods with confidence. “If it’s a task that will serve the High Chamber or simply our clan , she’d be honored, Alpha.”
I tie my shoes, then stand from the armchair. “Discuss it with her. If she’s on board, the position is hers.”
Creed steps toward the door, opening it half a second before we step out. “Understood, but may I ask where you’re headed?”
My pace picks up, and I’ve got tunnel vision as I answer. “To find my brother.”