32. Chapter Thirty-Two - Leigh
I step out of the car, and the salty sea breeze whips through my hair.
It carries with it the excited chatter of a crowd and the distant neighing of kelpies.
I feel the weight of Alden’s persistent glances as he steps out onto the racetrack grounds behind me.
“You’re drooling,” I remark dryly.
“You look yummy.”
“They have food inside the clubhouse.” I brush past him, eager to escape his presence.
I need to find Janus and Beatrix Marks.
If I can prove they are working together, I can present my findings to the Council, which will force Janus to admit she is Stellan’s mole.
My hope is that this will reunite the Council, and, more importantly, save me from marrying Alden.
Alden grasps my arm.
“What’s wrong?” His tan coat and orange-hued scarf make his blue eyes even more striking.
I pull out of his hold as Ravi stops beside us.
Alden gives him a nod to head inside.
Ravi tries to meet my stare, but I refuse to acknowledge him.
He must’ve known Alden’s intentions to marry me.
Telling me would have been a wise move to win my trust.
“Did you have plans to marry me all along, or was it a spur-of-the-moment idea with Janus?” I snap, my voice low in case any photographers are nearby.
Alden smiles.
It isn’t cruel or cunning, but resigned.
“You silly girl, you ruined the surprise. I was going to ask you. But now the cat is out of the bag, we might as well discuss it.”
My jaw hardens.
“That’s right, you should have asked me, but you didn’t. Were you afraid I’d say no, so you had to force my hand?”
“You can always say no.” Alden crosses his arms.
I exhale slowly to quell my anger.
“You should have talked to me first. Not Janus. Instead, she blindsided me yesterday, giving me an ultimatum—peace or Wilder.”
It’s not fair.
Alden sighs.
“I am surprised you didn’t see this coming, Leigh. As a single woman in her early twenties, it was only a matter of time before your Council began pressuring you to get married. You are the last in line for the throne. How else did you expect we would ally with Corona?”
“Not through marriage,” I say, and he frowns.
“We could forge a treaty. Or?—”
“Leigh, a strategic marriage between us would be a politically astute move. Several leaders of neighboring countries, including my father, perceive a Lunar Witch as a threat to their security. Not to mention, control over Corona means access to your ports in the east and your oil reserves in the west. As a war strategist, I could help strengthen your borders and project an image of power to deter potential invaders,” he explains.
His words cause my throat to constrict.
It feels as if I’ve swallowed gravel.
I scowl.
“You’ve left no stone unturned.”
“I am nothing but thorough,” Alden says, then his eyes sparkle.
“And charming.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I remind him, but the words sound weak after he’s outlined how ripe my country is for invasion.
“A marriage is a strategic alliance, Leigh. Keep your boyfriend. I have my affairs back home, anyway.”
My face pinches.
“That’s messed up on so many levels.”
He shrugs.
“Welcome to politics.”
I can’t even speak.
There has to be another way.
Janus can’t just broker my marriage like some trade deal.
My country’s future can’t hang only on who I marry.
If the Council and I were united, and Stellan ceased writing stories that sow division, we could consider allocating more resources to our military.
However, our priority would be to address the issue of Janus and her potential role as a mole.
“I can’t wait forever, Leigh,” Alden says.
“My father expects an answer soon, or he will demand I take your country by force. What will it be? Me or war?”
I don’t bother responding; I just head for the clubhouse.
“You have two days! Then I expect an answer!” Alden calls, and I give him the finger without so much as glancing back.
I don’t like that guy, my father’s ghost grumbles.
“Join the club,” I respond.
Alden follows me to the clubhouse, unease spreads through my body like a poisonous vine, wrapping tendrils around my heart before squeezing.
The thought of telling Wilder about Alden threatens to drown me.
Will Wilder understand my position, or will he fight it?
As queen, I must prevent war at all costs, even if it means making personal sacrifices.
But the idea of Wilder not accepting that decision fills me with dread.
If I could, I’d remove the crown off my head and stomp on it.
Conflicting emotions rage within me, each one battling for supremacy.
The desire to protect my kingdom is a constant presence, but it’s intertwined with the bitter realization that my happiness may be the price.
The Kelpie Club is alive with excitement on this picturesque winter day.
The sun shines over the unique circular racetrack, where kelpies race through a shallow, water-filled channel.
A cacophony of cheers and shouts rises into the air.
Inside the clubhouse, where the Council and other elite members and visitors observe the race, the vibrant colors of the jockeys’ silks captivate me through the open windows, standing out against the shimmering water.
With the blast of the starting horn, the first racers surge forward, their reversed hooves churning up the water as they gallop.
But these races are not for the faint of heart—the rules are brutal, reflecting the wild and untamed nature of the kelpies.
As they thunder forward, the mythical creatures possess the ability to summon floods and manipulate the currents within the track, adding an element of danger and unpredictability to an already thrilling spectacle.
As I circle the VIP lounge, Alden snakes an arm around my waist.
I attempt to wiggle free, but he digs his claws into me, drawing the attention of a few Epsilon corporation owners and Council members in the room.
The Council members’ behavior is telling; while some mingle, many seem uncertain of whom to trust and keep their distance.
It’s clear that our vulnerability to invasion is on full display.
However, Alden seems oblivious to the strained atmosphere, focusing solely on me.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.
“This is our first public appearance. I’m cementing our alliance,” Alden says.
“Do you have to be so handsy?”
He glances down at me with a smirk.
“Physical touch is my love language.”
My stomach roils, but I tamper down the need to puke, choosing to escape.
Across the room, I spy Janus with her wife, Daphne, partially concealed by the crowd.
But she’s not talking to her wife or their companions.
Instead, her eyes focus on a sandy-blonde-haired woman across the room.
Beatrix Marks.
Though her features are hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, I would have bet my life on it.
“Excuse me.” I move toward Beatrix, but she slips out onto the covered balcony and down the stairs to the racetrack level before Alden can protest or ask where I am going.
Outside on the covered balcony, servers offer me warm refreshments along with dozens of different kinds of canapés.
I refuse them all, smiling at people waving for my attention as I search for Beatrix, who has mysteriously vanished.
When I look back at where Janus was standing inside by the ice sculpture, I spot her wife alone.
I’ve lost them both.
I consider asking around to locate them, but I’m wary of drawing a crowd.
When I confront Janus, I want it to be just us.
Deciding to check the stables—the perfect place for a private conversation—I turn to go down the stairs, hurrying before Isolde can follow me.
However, as soon as I reach the steps, I run into Bennett as he ascends them.
My eyes widen as they meet those of a stunning brunette.
“Leigh,” Bennett says, his posture rigid.
“You remember Corvina Miller?”
All I can do is nod as Corvina pierces me with a guarded gaze.
The last time I saw Corvina was at my brother’s engagement party, where—drunk off my ass and pissed Fynn was marrying someone he didn’t love—I gave a speech in which I told the entire party he was in love with someone else.
Her.
Corvina.
A twinge of guilt pierces my chest.
There have been so many things I’ve wanted to say to her over the years.
I’ve practiced an apology a dozen times, but I was too chicken to visit her after Fynn’s death.
Too ashamed.
“I am happy for you,” I say quickly, trying to get away.
Bennett’s ears turn pink.
“Leigh. Slow down . . . Let’s?—”
“It’s good to see you, Leigh,” Corvina murmurs.
“You’re looking well since the last time I saw you—more sober at least.”
My legs shake.
I glance back at Bennett, and my throat tightens.
He had ample opportunity to tell me he was seeing Corvina.
Instead, he ambushes me at a public event, probably so I couldn’t cause a scene.
Does he think that little of me now?
“You look well, too, Corvina, but I need to go.”
“Leigh,” Bennett says.
“Have a drink?—”
“Look, I’m trying to find Janus. Have you seen her?”
Bennett’s eyes narrow.
“I saw her go down to the winner’s circle.”
“Great.”
With one final glance at the sneering Corvina, I race to find Janus as if my feet had wings.
As I make my way toward the winner’s circle—a circular pool cordoned off from the main track, complete with a sponsored backdrop perfect for capturing celebratory photos—I clutch my phone, the camera open and ready to document any interaction between Janus and Beatrix.
To my surprise and disappointment, the area is deserted.
Frowning, I decide to investigate the stables, like I had initially planned.
I keep walking as the crowd thins, their excited chatter fading into the distance until I find myself alone on the concrete path.
An unsettling sensation prickles the back of my neck, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.
Before I can turn to look, the heavy sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement reaches my ears, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my body.
Instinctively, I run, not daring to glance back at my pursuer.
But my heels betray me, slowing my pace to a frustrating crawl.
I’m not fast enough.
A solid body collides with mine, knocking the wind from my lungs.
I open my mouth to scream, but a gloved hand clamps down, stifling my cries.
The pungent scent of leather fills my nostrils, and panic rises in my chest.
The memory of Wilder dragging me into an alley to evade Nyx during the Harvest Festival flashes through my mind.
Still, this time, there’s one crucial difference: Wilder is in Aurora, and I’m utterly alone, at the mercy of my unknown assailant.
I struggle against my captor’s iron grip, thrashing and twisting my body to break free.
My mind races with questions.
Who is this person?
What do they want from me?
As they drag me into the shadows, away from the crowd’s prying eyes, my hope dwindles.
Darkness engulfs us, and the sounds of the racetrack fade into the distance, replaced by my pounding heart in my ears.
With each passing second, the shadows seem to stretch forever, and I can’t help but imagine the worst-case scenarios.
As my captor’s grip tightens around me, forcing my hands behind my back, cutting me off from my magic, I close my eyes and pray for a miracle.
But deep down, I know I can’t rely on anyone else to save me.
If I make it out of this alive, I’ll have to find a way to save myself.
I refuse to give up without a fight, and continue to struggle against my captor’s grip.