Chapter 21
Darian
It’s hard to believe that this adorable little child is mine.
She’s bright, inquisitive, and so incredibly clever. I can’t help but follow her around helplessly. As Alice prepares dinner, Mira wants to show me everything. Her room has been done up in hues of purple, blue, and silver. There is a small bookshelf, a desk and chair, one of those large floor cushions with two boxes of toys, and a canopy bed with a princess theme. When I check out the books, I’m quite surprised. I didn’t think children her age could read at this level.
Mira sees me looking. “I haven’t read that one yet. I can’t understand the big words. This is the one I’m reading right now.” She pulls out a small adventure book. “Mom is busy all the time, but she reads to me at night. I don’t understand a lot of the words, but when Mary comes, she helps me look them up in the dictionary. I have one of those, too. Look!”
She points at a large, bulky dictionary sitting on her little desk. Next to it is a piece of paper with some words scrawled on it. She hasn’t quite mastered handwriting yet, but she has managed to write out some pretty big words.
“I wrote these down so Mary can help me look for them. Do you know how to play chess? Mom hates chess, but I really like it. Mary is helping me learn, but Mom said I should play easier things.”
I frown internally. Mary is part of almost every sentence the girl speaks. Mira is clearly quite close to the healer. Maybe punishing Mary for lying to me won’t sit well with my daughter.
“Maybe you get it from my side of the family,” I tell her, returning to the conversation with a smile. “I like chess, too. Do you want to play with me?”
Her eyes gleam with enthusiasm. “I can set up the board. I know how to do it.”
She hurries over to her toy boxes, and I look around some more, my hands in my pockets. Everything in this room is top quality. From the furniture to the clothes to the books, Alice has spared no expense when it comes to Mira. It’s obvious that she dotes on her. But something bothers me.
As I watch Mira set up the chessboard, I ask, “What did you mean when you said your mother thinks you should play easier games?”
Mira shrugs nonchalantly. “Mom said I shouldn’t be so smart. Other kids might not like it.”
I absorb this small bit of information and tuck it away for later use. I’m not in a position to make any decisions about Mira. Alice is skittish enough as it is; she was hesitant even to let me see our daughter. If Mira were my only goal, I could probably be a little more forceful, but if I want Alice back, too, then I have to play my cards right.
“I want to be black,” Mira announces, and I grin.
“Good, because I’m always white.” As we begin playing the game, I ask, “So, do you have many friends?”
She shrugs once again, moving her pawn forward one square. “I had a lot of friends, but I changed schools. I go to first grade now. My teacher said I was too smart to stay in kindergarten.”
“Did you want to change?”
Mira hesitates and then shakes her head. “No. But I like it. I made a friend. Her name is Janet. And I made another friend called Phil. But Phil is not very nice. He says I can’t play soccer with him because I’m a girl. I wanted to bite him, but Mom said I could hurt him.”
“Bite him?”
She looks up at me suddenly and smiles, holding a finger against her lips. “You can’t tell Mom I told you.”
I nod. She holds out her hand, and I see her claws extend out of her nails. My blood turns cold. “Are you able to shift your body parts?”
She nods. “Mom said I have to hide it from everyone.”
Alarm fills me. If Mira is able to shift her body parts, that means she’s on the verge of her first transformation. She should not be going to a human school. The shift could take place at any time. If her emotions are heightened, she won’t be able to control it.
“Does Mary know?”
Mira shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Anger is my first reaction. If she’s still going to a human school, that means Mary does not know. Alice should have told me. She should have at least told Mary. As a healer, her friend would know what to do. There is a reason why wolf shifter children do not go to human schools. Not until they’re in high school, at least, and are able to control the transformations.
My anger soon dies, however, as it occurs to me that Alice may not know this. After all, young children who are on the verge of transformation are monitored by pack elders, mostly the grandparents or some other elder who has experience with guiding a child through their first transformation. Alice would never have been around a child going through this. And she never was one.
But six years old is too early. Usually when children go through their first transformation, they’re approaching their teenage years. Any earlier usually implies that the child is a very powerful shifter or comes from a strong bloodline. I’ve never heard of anyone from the royal family shifting at such a tender age, though. The earliest recorded was at eight years old.
I have to abandon this train of thought because Mira also has a lot of questions for me.
What do I do?
Where do I live?
How big is my house?
Does my house have a yard?
Does it have a swimming pool? Because Janet’s house has a swimming pool.
Whoever this Janet girl is, my daughter clearly admires her lifestyle.
“I live in a huge house. There are so many gardens that you could get lost in there for days,” I tell her, enjoying the way her eyes turn wide as saucers.
“Really?” She has forgotten all about the game I’m letting her win. “Do you have a pool, too?”
“Not a pool but a small lake with swans and ducks. When I was a boy, I would feed them bread.”
“Can I see them?”
“Sure, when you visit.” I smile at her warmly.
“When can I visit?” she demands eagerly, the idea of these animals too irresistible to the six-year-old. “I’ll go ask Mom—”
She’s about to dash away when I stop her. “Maybe not right now. Besides, it’s winter. All the swans are probably sleeping. I’ll bring you over when it’s summer and they want to play.”
“Can I feed them bread?”
“I don’t see why not.”
A knock on the door has us looking up, and Alice says, “Mira, go wash up. Dinner’s ready.”
I follow Alice into the living room. “She’s on the cusp of her first transformation, Alice.”
I see Alice go stiff, and she turns to face me. “What?”
“She showed me her claws.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything.” I see the nervous look on her face. “She’s six. She won’t have her first shift till she hits puberty or something like that.”
“Have you discussed it with your healer friend?” I ask. Her silence confirms my initial doubt. I make sure Mira isn’t coming before I continue, my tone urgent. “The signs are all there. And her scent will get riper. Once she undergoes her first transformation, she will smell more like a wolf shifter. She has to go to a shifter school, Alice.”
“I can’t send her to one of those!” Alice walks over to the counter, resting her palms on the marble surface before looking at me again. “I can’t afford to let anyone find out—”
“Let me send teachers here, then. Or let Jimmy tutor her. There’s no one I trust more than him. Mira can’t continue to go to human schools, Alice. You know how children are. One provocation, one small fight, and she loses control, and that’s it. You will not be able to move fast enough to do damage control, and neither will I. Short of killing everybody in that school, we will not be able to contain the secret.”
Alice turns pale, and her voice is a ragged whisper. “You’re sure about this?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. Especially not about our daughter. I’m surprised Mary hasn’t noticed.”
Alice sinks to the stool, burying her head in her hands before looking up at me. “She’s a baby, Darian. Why is the shift coming on so fast? Is it because of me, because of my corrupted bloodline?”
The amount of self-loathing in her voice makes me snarl. “There’s nothing wrong with your bloodline, and it’s not because of you. She’s a prodigy. Both her bloodlines are incredibly strong, which is why this is happening.”
Alice opens her mouth to say something, but Mira chooses that moment to run into the room, shaking water off her hands.
“Towel, Mira!” Alice scolds her lightly. “You’re not a dog, so don’t shake like one.”
“But it’s more fun!” Mira proceeds to shake her hands in the air, causing water droplets to fall on the floor.
Alice grabs some paper napkins and chases her around the room before grabbing her and forcibly wiping her hands. All the while, Mira laughs like a loon.
She’s a troublemaker.
My lips curve. She really is my daughter.
After dinner, Mira opens the gifts I brought her. If I had known she was so intelligent, I would have gotten her more than just dolls and a huge doll house, but she seems pretty happy with them.
I didn’t expect Mira to accept me so easily. I catch her mother watching us every so often.
Alice is the one to put our daughter to bed after she passes out on the couch, clutching the blue-haired mermaid doll I got her.
Alice closes the girl’s bedroom door quietly before looking at me. “No slumber party, sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Well, I feel it, somewhere deep down, I’m sure,” is her insincere reply. “You should go back to the hotel now.”
“I thought I could stay.”
“Darian.” Alice’s voice is quiet and firm, and when she looks at me, I see the resolved look in her eyes. “This isn’t easy for me. Let’s try to keep things civil. I don’t want Mira getting used to the idea of you sleeping over because she’s going to start building her hopes up, and that’s going to lead to her heart getting broken. I don’t want that. So, go home. We’ll arrange another meet-up in a few days. I don’t want to bombard her with you all of a sudden.”
A wave of anger builds up inside me. My first instinct is to think that Alice is trying to keep me from my child. But I see the tired look on her face, and I swallow my feelings.
“I understand.”
I grab my coat and head toward the door before pausing in the open doorway. “If she asks why I left, just say I had something to do. You don’t have to tell her that you didn’t want me to stay.”
Alice hesitates and then nods. “Thank you.”
As I walk away, it feels like I’m leaving a part of myself behind.
*****
I may not be able to see Mira very frequently, but now that Katherine’s corporation and mine are doing business together, I do run into Alice quite a bit.
Our next meeting is at a public relations event where we are to announce the companies’ decision to work together. I didn’t expect Alice to be there, but when I enter the room, I see her standing in a corner, talking to some people. Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a brief smile. It’s a professional one, and it makes my chest ache.
We have so many things tying us together, the biggest one being our child, yet it feels like she’s too far away from me. As the evening progresses, I see more and more men approach her. It bothers me. She smiles at them, laughs with them, and seems so comfortable. I remember the girl she used to be, insecure and lost. It makes me happy to see her like this, to witness what she has accomplished for herself. She built herself from the ground up. Unfortunately, the laughter in her eyes is never directed at me.
In a room full of people, I feel all alone. The woman I love doesn’t love me. My child will never be by my side. I may have money, multiple companies, and a whole kingdom, but my life is empty.
The press release is done now, and people are networking before the buffet opens. I head out into the courtyard, reaching for the pack of cigarettes I brought with me. Lighting one up, I take a puff and release the smoke. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the wall and try to empty my thoughts.
“When did you start smoking?”
Alice’s voice startles me. I open my eyes, and she’s standing in front of me, a frown on her face.
“Oh, this?” I take another puff. After Alice disappeared, I turned to smoking to ease the stress. “It helps me relax.”
“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s not good for your lungs.”
I give her an amused look. “I’m a wolf shifter. My lungs are fine.”
Before I can take another puff, she snatches the cigarette out of my mouth, throws it to the ground, and stomps on it with her heel. “Stop it.”
I roll my eyes and take out another one from the pack. “Go inside, Alice.”
She snatches this cigarette as well, glaring at me. “Do you want to tell me why you’re in such a bad mood?”
I shrug. “What? I’m not allowed to be in a bad mood?”
“Are you sulking?” Her eyes go wide in an incredulous look.
“Why do you care?” I shoot back at her.
“I don’t,” she says sharply, and I flinch.
“Good. Then go back inside. Go network. You’re good at it.” I take out a third cigarette, and this time, when her hand darts forward, I hold it just out of her reach. “I don’t think so. Why are you even out here, Alice? Go back inside. All your admirers are in there.”
Her eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”
“Jealous?” I light the cigarette and take a puff before holding it out of her reach once more in case she tries to snatch it again. “I don’t have the right to be jealous, remember?”
“Correct. You don’t,” Alice says, her voice hard. “So, stop smoking out here like some sort of thug.”
“I don’t know what part of town you live in, but smoking isn’t limited to thugs, Alice.”
“It’s an ugly habit.” She looks annoyed. “I don’t want you smoking around Mira.”
The mention of my daughter makes me scowl. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to smoke in front of her.”
“You shouldn’t smoke at all, period.”
Annoyed and heartsick, I drop the cigarette at my feet and stomp it out. “Happy? Now, go inside. I want to be left alone for a while.”
I turn away and begin walking. To my annoyance and surprise, she trails after me.
“Where are you going?”
“What are you, my keeper?”
“I’m worried about you!” she explodes. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
I turn to stare at her. “And how would you know what I’m like? You haven’t seen me in seven years. Maybe I’m an alcoholic with a nicotine problem. Ever consider that?”
Alice isn’t easily deterred. “No, I didn’t consider that,” she snaps at me. “But I do know that you’re out here sulking like a child.”
“Why do you care, Alice? Let me sulk like a child or like an adult. It doesn’t matter to you. I don’t matter to you.” When she stiffens, I say in a kinder tone, unable to stop the weariness lacing it, “Go away, Alice. My problems are my problems. I’ll deal with them. It doesn’t matter how. Don’t worry about me.”
When I walk off this time, she doesn’t follow me.
The event is taking place near a small park with a few food stalls. It’s relatively quiet at this time of night, and I head over to one of the benches and sit down. I take out a cigarette, but before I can light it, I recall Alice’s face.
Growling, I snap it in half and toss it along with my lighter into the trashcan nearby. “She’s not even here, and she’s still bothering me. How am I supposed to move on when she lives in my head, rent-free?”
But that’s just the problem isn’t it? I don’t want to move on.
I stare at the woods, wishing I could shift and go for a run. I want to shed my human skin. I want to be free for a while, free from all responsibilities and heartaches. Even though I have Jimmy, there are times when I feel so alone in this world that I think the silence will kill me.
I tilt my head back and gaze at the night sky instead. I missed so many of my daughter’s milestones. When she took her first step, when she crawled for the first time, when she said her first word. I never got to hold her as an infant. I never saw her leave for her first day of kindergarten. I missed so much, and I want to blame Alice for it, but I can’t.
I close my eyes. I’ll have to head back eventually, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to see Alice surrounded by other men. I don’t want to see her smile at other men since I know I’m the last person she would ever smile at.
I smell the food before I hear Alice’s voice. I open my eyes as she sits beside me, holding two hot dogs.
“Here.” She shoves one of them into my hand. “Eat.”
I have no choice but to take it. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to help you deal with whatever problems you have.”
“I told you to go back inside.”
“And I don’t have to listen to you,” she retorts. “Now, eat.”
Staring at her, I take a bite.
She’s eating her own hot dog, looking straight ahead.
“I don’t like smokers,” she says, finally.
I don’t say anything.
Her eyes narrow in my direction. “So, stop smoking.”
I don’t respond. After a few moments of silence, she says, “Why don’t you come see Mira next week? There is a carnival in town.” She reaches into her coat pocket and brings out a pamphlet, which she hands to me. “They have some rides and food and those kinds of things. I was going to take her myself, but maybe you can come along.”
“Really?”
She shrugs. “It’ll be good for the two of you.”
“You mean for Mira?”
She shrugs once again.
I look down at the hot dog in my hand and ask, “Why are you trying to look after me?”
“Because it seems that you don’t look after yourself.” As soon as the words leave her lips, her head whips around to face me, and she glowers at me. “But don’t read anything into it. I’m just—I just wanted to make sure you got something to eat, okay?”
“Sure.” A small smile forms on my lips. “That makes sense.”
“It does,” she agrees loudly.
I wonder who she’s trying to convince, me or herself.