Movement No. 20
Tempest
My head spins as I make my way out of the hall and back towards the river. Draven and the others seem to have thought of everything, but it still bothers me. Our conversation rolls through my brain like a tumbleweed.
If I kill him, you’ll kill me?
Unfortunately, yes.
So that’s my answer. It doesn’t matter how anyone feels about me. Whether they develop a connection to me or not, my fate here is sealed. I can never see any of these people again, or my life will be at risk. And the lives of my pack.
“Back so soon?” Taryn asks, waggling her eyebrows.
I sit on the edge of the riverbank, and the water comes up to my calves as I slowly kick my legs back and forth.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry again about what happened with Baelor. He’s not my favorite,” she says, and I nod.
“I’m okay. That’s not why I’m upset this time. Goddess, do I make all of these conversations about me?” I hope Taryn knows how much her friendship means to me. When I fuck it all up by killing Draven, ruining this is going to be one of my deepest regrets.
Before Taryn and Yasmeena, all I had were pack members.
I was friends with other lupion, but I was forced to keep everyone at arms’ length.
I love Zuri and Clio, but I never wanted to tell them my fears.
I kept everything in, not wanting to frighten them.
Maybe there’s something in the water, but I want to spill my guts here.
“I’m engaged to Yasmeena,” I say matter-of-factly.
“I know I live in the water, but I know that much,” Taryn says and I shake my head.
I sigh. “I don’t know how this became my life.”
“Why are you engaged?”
“Because I—” I can’t bring myself to tell another lie. “Because it made sense.”
Her tail of cerulean scales sways in the crystal clear water. “So this is an arranged marriage. Your father and someone else thought you two would be the perfect pair?”
“Yeah. My father and Luc. Or maybe it was Raph—”
“If it was political, it was probably my brother Draven.”
I nod, unsure of how much she knows about The Devil’s Masquerade. She wasn’t on my list of people who were aware of our campaign, but it’s no surprise she figured it out, at least partially.
“What does your mother think of this?” she asks.
“My mother is no longer a part of my life, so she didn’t have a say in it,” I say, which is an understatement of great proportion.
My mother chose to leave the pack when my father became Alpha.
She claimed his method of takeover was uncivilized, even though it was the same method Abel had used to become Alpha prior to my father.
She left me, a little girl, all alone. An older woman—Saoirse—became my maternal figure until she passed a few years back of old age.
“I am struggling,” I confess, and she stares up at me.
“Are you struggling because you don’t care for your fiancé, or struggling because you do?” she asks. It’s cryptic, but I think we both read through the lines.
“Yes.” I swallow.
“I see.”
I want her to ask me what else is bothering me, and I want to truly answer. I want to tell her that my father, Cain, killed his brother Abel to become Alpha. I want to tell her about how my cousin Tyrus was next in line, and about how I’ve spent my entire life training to be his second.
I want Taryn to ask how that makes me feel, and I want to take in a deep breath and tell her how it terrifies and enrages me; it is infuriating that I need to be training and learning and bonding with my pack, but instead I’m being used as a bargaining chip—a pawn in my father’s political scheming.
I want to let the tears fall down my face and I want her to hug me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, just like my mother should be here to do, but instead I say nothing. I say nothing because she would have more questions, ones that I can’t answer.
What is your father scheming? Oh, you know. Only a retaliation against the people you love. An eye for an eye, if you will. It’s only fair!
Maybe Taryn would understand, or maybe she would swim away and immediately tell them that I’m a monster. I don’t know, but I can’t risk it. I must keep the truth close to my heart, locked away in the icy, frozen block I call my chest.
I let my eyes shudder closed and breathe in the fresh scent of the river and the forest.
“This marriage might’ve started as a sham, but it doesn’t have to be,” she suggests, though she has no idea how wrong she is. “Just go slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.”
“I know,” I say, but I don’t.
What do I do if I’m already falling?
The Devil’s Masquerade is preparing to meet with the King and his siblings. Apparently, the entire group doesn’t always attend, but they were requested by one of the governors.
Everyone’s packing, hurriedly trying to prepare their bags and get their things in order.
I’m sitting on the bed beside Yasmeena, quietly watching her pack, as Gemma enters our tent.
“Hi Tempest, I need you to watch Nico while we’re gone, but don’t worry! We’ll be back in a day or two,” she explains.
“Why wouldn’t Quinn or Robyn or someone watch him?” I ask. “Rowan, maybe?”
“They’ll be busy running the carnival. I could ask Una to do it, but I figured you might be able to teach him a little about lupion culture,” she answers, and I can’t help but balk.
I want to scream no, but something holds the sound hostage in my throat. “I don’t know—”
“Not really taking no as an option,” she says, and then exits the tent before returning with the little lupion boy.
I rub my face with my hands, wondering how on Hel I’m supposed to deal with this, when I feel a tugging sensation on my pant leg.
“Aunt Tempest,” Nico says, his big emerald eyes staring up at me.
Aunt?
“Mom says you can teach me how to howl at the moons.” He’s grinning a little toothy grin, and I can’t help but smile back.
“I—” These are lupion stereotypes, and not something we really do anymore, but it hurts to imagine telling him that. “Sure, kid. We can probably do that.”
“Come to the hall with me? Everyone will want to say goodbye,” Yasmeena says, and me and Nico follow her down the dirt-lined path.
Once we enter the larger tent, the carnies are all there, waiting to say goodbye to their people. Khalid is hugging Reina and Yasmeena goodbye, as Lilian squeezes Gemma and Draven.
Absinthe is talking to Baelor, something about watching the perimeter at night, and I wonder if we’re really in any danger, or if she’s just trying to keep him away from me.
Gemma and Draven squeeze Nico goodbye, but the little boy doesn’t seem upset or worried.
“You be good now,” Gemma says as she heads for the entryway.
Nico nods. “I will be excellent for Aunt Tempest.”
Yasmeena walks over to me and I don’t know what I should say.
Goodbye? Good luck?
“Why is everyone acting like you guys are going to be gone for a year?” Is what I settle on.
“Because there are serious risks when we all leave like this. It’s dangerous for us to travel to Proditorum, sure, but it also leaves the carnival in a vulnerable position. This is the perfect opportunity for The Legion to attack,” she explains, and my heart kind of drops.
“You know I would never let them hurt you guys. Rowan and Khalid and I—even Baelor. We’ll protect Una and Po and Nico, I promise,” I say, and she sighs.
“I know. But what if it weren’t The Legion. What if it were felion—do you think Khalid would fight our own kind?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Or what if it were your pack? If it were between us and them, you’d pick them, and I’d understand why, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”
That statement is like a stab to the heart, but I try not to show any reaction.
“I’m sorry. This must be hard for you,” I say.
Yasmeena gives a small nod. “Thank you. I’ll see you in a few days.”
She gives me a kiss on the cheek and it’s like I’m floating.
“Aunt Tempest. How do baby lupion wear diapers?” Nico asks, interrupting our little moment.
I actually don’t know the answer to that. There haven’t been many children in Pack Escalus in recent years. I try to think back to when I was a kid. Emily would’ve been much younger than me. I faintly recall her tail sticking out through her diaper and shorts.
“There’s a hole for the tail,” I say, and he scrunches his nose.
“Wouldn’t all the pee come out?”
“Not if it’s the right fit… why, do you still wear a diaper?” I ask, exhausted and desperate for him to tell me no. I cannot spend the next two days changing wolf diapers.
“Of course not, silly. I’m six!”
Thank Goddess.