Movement No. 29
Tempest
My eyes open, my limbs sore and heavy as I process the last four days. Our agreement not to kiss, and kissing her anyway in the bathroom of The Cathedral. My weak attempt at pushing her away, only to have her fall asleep in my arms. This constant push and pull is draining.
Yasmeena isn’t good for me. Not if I’m going to follow my father’s orders and kill Draven.
Can I even do it at this point, or should I exile myself now?
Even if I choose not to carry out my plan and tell the carnies the truth, I can’t live here. They would have a permanent target on their backs, and my Alpha would stop at nothing to get revenge against his traitorous daughter.
My mind spins. This is the first morning in a long time that I’ve woken up peacefully.
I’m stressed about the situation, but I slept well.
There were no gripping nightmares. I didn’t wake up a sweaty mess in a fit of rage or fear.
No, I slept like a rock, the warmth and weight of Yasmeena’s body soothing me.
I swear I must be cursed.
She’s still asleep, and I can’t help but admire the muscular curves of her figure. The way her lips pout, and her nose comes down in a straight line. I love the shortness of her hair compared to mine, and how her tail is slim and long.
It’s as if she were made for me in a lab. If someone asked me to design a partner for myself, the sketch would look uncanny.
Standing, I get dressed. The felion election is today, and it’s not something I ever envisioned attending, but I plan on being there for Yasmeena. Letting her catch up on sleep, I make my way toward the hall, where breakfast awaits.
The fresh scent of eggs and buttered bread fills the space, and I breathe it in, waving at Rowan as I walk past. He’s wearing pants and an apron, with no shirt, and Quinn stands by his side, the two giggling.
Jealousy hits me in waves, regardless of how happy I might be for them.
I can’t tell if I’m envious of their love, or envious that their children are being raised by three doting parents, when I didn’t even receive one.
As I reach the table, Reina looks over at me. “Good morning, temper.”
“Excuse me?” I say, my hackles rising.
Yasmeena and I have an election to attend, and a formal meeting with the Alphas this afternoon; I don’t have the energy for this right now.
Between my father’s expectations and the fate of the continent resting on Yasmeena’s and my decisions and actions, I’d rather pull out my own teeth than go tit-for-tat with Reina.
“Temper—it’s your nickname,” she says, a malicious grin spreading across her face.
Does she think I’m stupid?
“It is not,” I bite out. This is an incredibly immature argument, but I’m in a fucking mood already, nervous energy lingering in the pits of my stomach.
“Yasmeena calls you princess, but you can’t handle temper? Feels more accurate.” Reina slouches back in her chair, clearly itching for an argument.
“Yasmeena calls me princess because I allow her to, and because we’ve developed mutual respect for one another,” I say.
She lifts up a hand in question, her mouth forming a frown. “Do we not have a mutual respect for one another?”
It is too early for this shit. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, Reina. Frankly, we haven’t. You murdered my cousin and I still kind of hate you for it, alright? Now please leave me the Hel alone.”
Her eyebrows raise, eyes widening to reveal more of her black scleras.
I’m not sure if she didn’t put two and two together, or if she just thought I’d never find out, but it feels good to get it off my chest. I think this whole time, she must have believed I was unaware of her involvement in my cousin’s death, but that couldn’t be further from reality.
“I’m sorry,” she says, voice soft and low.
I nod. “Thanks, but it’s a little late for that—”
“Good morning,” Raph sings as he enters the tent, completely disrupting the tension that was brewing in the air between us like coffee sitting in a pot.
I look away, grabbing a slice of toast and heading back towards my tent. Nothing is happening right now, so why does it feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest?
My mind barters between wanting to hold Yasmeena, and wanting to never see her again.
I can’t tell if my father raised me to find intimacy repulsive so that I would never let anyone too close, or if the way I was raised makes me so desperate for connection that the second I experience any I’m forced to sink my claws into it out of fear they’ll leave.
Either way, my head feels like a warzone.
“Hey,” Yasmeena says from further down the path, pulling me out of my toxic mental spiral.
“Hey,” I return.
She looks different. Hair brushed back out of her face, dressed in black slacks and a deep purple blouse. Fancy, and more official.
“Are you ready?”
I nod, and we make our way to One Haeresis Plaza for the first official felion election. Unlike positions like governor and king, which are monarchies, other communities have their own ways of electing more localized leadership.
For lupion packs, it’s different. Alphas aren’t like government officials—voted on or chosen through lineage—it’s molecular, something we feel.
The system does hold a kind of hierarchy, but it’s based on both bloodline and strength.
Here, the felion will vote on an official representative.
They’ll be tasked with working in tandem with other officials like Raph, Luc, and the lupion packs, in order to ensure felion are treated equally.
I hope Yasmeena is chosen. She’s definitely the most qualified for the job.
The monorail takes us from the entertainment district to the economic district.
The floor beneath us glows a magicite green, and I hold onto a chrome pole as we fly past buildings and skyscrapers until we’re next to Luc’s office.
The tallest building on the street, Haeresis Plaza looms over us, the sight as daunting as I feel.
Inside, an older demon is waiting for us at the front desk.
“Good… morning… girls,” she says, voice slow and wobbly.
“Hey, Baph. Where are we meeting?” Yasmeena asks.
“Third… third floor, first door on… the right,” Baph answers, pointing to the elevator.
Pressing the button and stepping inside, I breathe in Yasmeena’s scent—jasmine and patchouli—as I try to slow down the quick pace of my beating heart.
“Why are you so antsy?” she asks, taking her fingers in mine.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just worried about how things will go.” A half-truth. I’m not sure why everything is bothering me now instead of earlier, but I know why I’m freaking out.
This is it. This is the end of the road. After this, if everything goes to plan, they will sign the treaty in the upcoming weeks. I should be happy about it. Hel, I want to be happy about it. We’ve worked so hard, but it feels impossible to be joyful about the very thing that will take her from me.
Yasmeena and Taryn and Nico and all the good that just entered my life will be washed away with the scribbling of a few pens, and I’ll be forced to face the music. Kill Draven and ruin this beautiful thing developing, or refuse and lose my pack.
Either way, I lose half my soul.
“We’ve got this,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze as the elevator opens.
The election room is long and wide, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the west wall that show off a nice view of the city. There are rows of chairs filled with felion. Some I recognize from our community work, others I don’t, but there have to be at least fifty people here.
Someone ushers us towards the front, where two empty seats rest between Claudia and the aisle, and we sit down as we wait for things to begin.
Luc gets up onto the podium and everyone rises before taking a knee. “Our Infernal King,” everyone says at once.
He gestures for us to sit, and begins his speech.
“Today we elect the first official representative of the felion species on Hel. This individual chosen will participate in governmental meetings regarding not only Haeresis, but all of Hel. They speak not just for themselves, but for the felion as a whole.” Luc continues, talking about the importance of this decision, and giving a little backstory on the felion’s beginnings from his point-of-view.
It’s weird being the only lupion here, but I feel a sense of pride over it too, because I am not unwelcome.
Nobody has snapped or snarled. In fact, the felion seem to be overjoyed by my presence, waving and smiling in my direction.
Even the scents in the room are overwhelmingly pleasant.
Nobody smells fearful or irate, and it gives me hope for the future of our species.
“On the ballot is Yasmeena Hamza Al-Khalifa,” Luc says, and my heart leaps into my chest. “She currently runs unopposed. Does anyone object or wish to stake a claim on the position?”
My brows furrow. Although I mostly expected Yasmeena to win, I’m genuinely surprised no one is challenging her. It just goes to show how qualified she truly is, when her people unanimously agree. I hope this brings her happiness, even if I can’t stay long enough to watch it blossom.
“All in favor of electing Ms. Al-Khalifa as Representative of the Felion Species, raise your left arm,” Luc says, and every hand shoots up at once.
Applause vibrates through the room, and Claudia urges Yasmeena up onto the podium to give a speech. I know it’s brilliant. Her words are thoughtful and intelligent, just as she is, but I can’t hear them. The sound is drowned out by the ache in my heart.
I push my feelings away, making myself numb so I can listen as she answers the questions they’re bombarding her with.
Will you guarantee us half of the hunting territory? Who can claim the river on the west side of the carnival grounds? Have you and Tempest Lupine set a wedding date yet?
Question after question, Yasmeena answers with impeccable grace, ensuring each person feels seen and heard.
As the election-turned-press-conference concludes, everyone is ushered out of the room, leaving just the two of us, Claudia, and the king himself.
“I will see you tomorrow,” Luc says, and Yasmeena nods.
“I will see you then.”
His relationship with the carnies sits at odds with the stories I’ve heard, but I’d like to think it’s because they’re not just his subjects—they’re his family too.
Raph is obviously his biological sibling, but there’s an obvious care to the way he treats the entire carnival, especially Draven and Gemma.
“Looks like you proved the headlines right. Congratulations, sweetheart,” Claudia says, her copper hair bouncing as she walks, before embracing Yasmeena in a hug, and walking away.
When we reach the elevator, Yasmeena just stares at the cold metal wall, her face mellow, but almost blank.
“Are you alright?” I ask. She’s halfway to achieving everything she’s been wanting, I don’t understand why she’s acting so out of sorts.
“Yeah, I just… realized how much will be riding on me. I know you were raised to be Alpha or second one day, but I never anticipated this for myself. It’s a lot,” she admits. It might be the first time I’ve ever seen her this insecure.
“I’m sorry, but for what it’s worth, I think this role is perfect for you,” I say, hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice.
She reaches for my hand. “Can I kiss you?”
My breath staggers. I want to grab her by the hips and pull her close, but I can’t risk it. Not when I’ll be seeing my father later today, and the other pack leaders.
I shake my head, pulling away though it physically pains me to deny her this. “It’s not a good idea.”