Chapter Twenty-Six
Ieye Wyatt, thinking over Claude’s words. I can’t stomach the thought of Camden yet—especially while I’m freshly mortified from last night and aching to spend the rest of my life avoiding him, but Wyatt is a different story. My hostility towards him is more on principle than anything else.
What’s an icebreaker that might work with Camden’s little brother?
After several moments of sifting through possible conversation openers, I ask, “Do you read?”
Wyatt looks mildly surprised at the question. “Sure. I had a lot of alone time growing up, and I spent a decent amount of it in the palace library.”
I don’t entirely believe him, but he seems sincere. He’s simply never struck me as an intellectual, but that could be because I never bothered to look closer.
“Earthly literature or books native to your realms?” I ask.
“I grew up in this realm, so I made a point to read the books native to it,” he responds. “Classical literature making up the body of what I perused.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Shakespeare?”
“Of course,” he returns.
That I can work with. “Favorite play?”
“Hamlet. Or King Lear.”
I nod slowly. “To be or not to be, that is the question…”
Wyatt grins, taking the bait. “Whether ‘tis nobler of the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune—”
“—Or to take arms against the sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them,” I cut him off, finishing a verse from Hamlet’s most famous soliloquy. If Wyatt were bullshitting me, he wouldn’t be able to quote it from memory alone. “You just might be okay, little Kent.”
Wyatt barks out a laugh. “Glad you think so. Let’s get back before my brother sends in the cavalry.”
Claude gives me a nod of approval as Wyatt and I start in the direction of the castle together. It’s dark out, so our guiding light is made up of the moon, shining brightly in the center of the sky, accompanied by countless glittering stars.
We’re traversing a cobblestone path through several gardens when Wyatt asks, “Pride and Prejudice or Persuasion?”
I feel a smile tug at my lips as I keep pace with him. “Persuasion all the way. Jane Austen’s masterpiece. The story arc is way better. War and Peace or Anna Karenina?”
Wyatt laughs again, this time genuinely. “Trying to trip me up with Slavic authors? War and Peace, arguably Tolstoy’s masterpiece.”
I fall silent for several moments as we walk, trying to figure out the best way to bring up what Claude told me earlier—that Wyatt disagrees with cultural and interspecies discrimination within his kingdom. While he hasn’t at any point struck me as a philosopher who spends his time contemplating international and socioeconomic problems, Claude succeeded in opening my eyes to the fact that without allies, I’m fucked, and Wyatt is currently my most viable prospective ally.
Claude also shut me down faster than I could blink when I hinted at searching for literature that might affect the mythical mate bond. I hadn’t specified that I wanted to negatively affect the bond, but mentioning my curiosity about what could impact it must have been enough to raise the witch doctor’s hackles because he told me in no uncertain terms that literature on witchcraft powerful enough to affect a bond between mates is forbidden and unavailable.
So, for now, I need to do my best to deal with Camden and see if I can find another member of the royal family I can tolerate a little more. If I can build anything resembling a friendship with Wyatt and determine that he is not a threat to my sister, maybe I’d be able to breathe slightly easier.
Worrying for Leisel requires the majority of my time and attention here, even more so than back in Aesara. The only reason I’ve handled my all-day separation from her so well is I’d discussed her hourly schedule with Greta, giving it my stamp of approval.
If I could have the confidence that Wyatt was a decent enough person to no longer lose my head over the prospect of him in a room with my sister, I might actually end up with a very strong friend in the palace. Camden told me not long ago that what Wyatt feels towards Leisel right now is more fraternal or paternal than anything—the bond between them won’t manifest as anything beyond a strong protective instinct in Wyatt, one that drives him to keep Leisel safe, until she’s matured. If that’s the case, a good relationship with Wyatt could buy me at least half a decade of not worrying quite so much over my sister.
While the mama bear instinct within me is always quick to push me to disregard any possibility of Leisel ever having a love life, let alone being a fated mate with a fucking wolf shifter, I’m not in a position where I can be ruled by my base instincts, because I alone am not capable of protecting Leisel here. This is a palace, city, and society that I know very little about, which means protecting not only myself but another person will be close to impossible unless I have the help of someone who does know it. If I can form a reliable connection with Wyatt, I’d get my first real foothold in the palace, along with a substantial amount of peace of mind—at least for the immediate future.
“Whatever you’re thinking, spit it out,” Wyatt says. “I don’t do well with awkward silences, and you strike me as too direct to beat around the bush.”
I cast him a brief glance as we trek through meticulously trimmed and beautiful gardens, boasting more varieties of plants and flowers than I’ve ever seen, all bursting with vibrant colors lit by moonbeams.
“Why do you think we’re at war with the vampires?” I ask.
Wyatt’s steps falter ever so slightly, and he gives me a look with raised eyebrows. “Claude’s been whispering in your ear, huh? Are you truly interested in knowing or is this a poor attempt at small talk?”
I feel my eyebrows furrow. “I don’t think discussing a war that could destroy my home planet is small talk. At the very least we’d be discussing political theory and speculation of mass destruction—that’s quite a stretch from talking about the weather or the most recent harvest.”
Wyatt lets out a laugh, lighthearted and entertained. “Fair enough. How familiar are you with the history of this realm, of its continents and kingdoms?”
I shrug. “I read anything I had access to my whole life. Most of the time that ended up being old history textbooks or biographies. I don’t have any formal education, but I’ve tried to not be completely ignorant about the world I live in.”
Wyatt gives me a nod. “Good. Then you’ll know that just about every war ever fought on this planet has been a result of when one group of people decided they were superior to another, for whatever reason. Whether it was because of the gods they worshipped, rulers they obeyed, or regions they lived in, that’s been the moral of every war. You’ll also notice a pattern in history is that wars always grow markedly worse after borders are closed and any dialogue between opposing monarchies or governments is ended.”
I nod. “Yes, that’s all true.”
“And yet,” Wyatt says, “the very first act of my grandfather upon his initial invasion was to declare shifters superior to all other species, not just humans, and try to create a societal hierarchy that left shifters at the top while crushing any other mythics that would also inevitably invade beneath us. That didn’t bother the sirens, as they were interested in the oceans, or the witches and faye, as they’re elusive and like to keep to themselves, but the vampires are a notoriously prideful and aggressive species, just like shifters.
“When the vampires made their way onto Earth, my father was reigning monarch and Alpha, and he refused to reach out to them and create a dialogue that could give way to any semblance of peace. We could’ve invited them to create societies that could coexist with ours; instead, we acted with a supremacy mindset that isolated the vampires, leaving them on undesirable land with no prospect of connections that could help them flourish here. So, of course, the vampires have spent their entire time on Earth amassing numbers and preparing for war and conquest—we haven’t given them another choice. Not all vampires are these bloodthirsty, horrendous creatures mythology paints them as—not all of them are like that bastard Kyron—but we are giving them every reason to lean into their deadly archetypes.”
I take several beats of silence once Wyatt’s done talking, mulling over everything he’s said. I can’t say I disagree—this is clearly a topic that he’s spent a significant amount of time contemplating. He also seems to genuinely care about the sociopolitical state of this planet, which is more than I’ve observed of Camden.
Camden cares about shifters and only shifters, while Wyatt has a broader view of the world, which I can appreciate. A broader view isn’t going to cut it if I’ll be allowing Wyatt to step into Leisel’s life, however.
I point out calmly, “Interesting that while referencing human history you neglect to mention humans.”
Wyatt volleys back, “Because you’ve been trying to wipe each other out for thousands of years—there’s plenty of written text to support that. It’s only recently that new species of beings made their homes here—”
“And since that has happened, you’ll notice that the human population has dropped by something like eight billion humans,” I interrupt, growing irritated.
Wyatt holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m not denying that the invasion of mythics is the worst thing to ever happen to the human population, but let’s not forget that this planet was on the precipice of the sort of war that would have destroyed it. The day we invaded was the same day one of the most progressive governments of the time was gearing up to launch a nuclear weapon to the other side of the world. Had that weapon gone off, it would have prompted several other nukes to be launched. Then there would have been nothing left on this planet to guide us here—all of the plant, animal, and human life would’ve been wiped out.”
Wyatt’s right, which infuriates me. All historical accounts agree on one thing; the day mythics actually made their way onto Earth could’ve otherwise been a doomsday. It was in the middle of the third and last World War, one that almost ended all life on Earth permanently. Threats of nuclear bombings had been made from all sides of the conflict, and the civilians of the world spent several months holding their breath, wondering each morning if that day would finally mark the start of the nuclear holocaust.
Instead of nukes going off on every continent, turning Earth into a wasteland, we received the invasion of mythics.
Much of the outcome for humans was the same as it would’ve been otherwise; most of the humans are dead. The only standing difference between what inevitably would have been and what is, is that the Earth is now lush with nature and greenery and wildlife that humans almost wiped out entirely.
I will never forgive mythics for the part they played in the mass deaths of humans, but I’ll also never forgive humans for almost destroying the planet they were gifted. My magic is a product of the very thing they almost annihilated for their own selfish ends and desires.
Is that the moral of the story? Everywhere I look, every species I consider, is awful in its own way? Humans are the very embodiment of self-serving, having almost been the reason for their own destruction. Shifters only care about the pack and hierarchy. Witches and faye care about nature and their own covens and clans. Vampires care about killing anyone who isn’t one of them, evidently because shifters haven’t left them much of another choice.
“Maybe that’s just the nature of being alive,” I murmur dejectedly. “One person’s prosperity has always come at the cost of another’s from the beginning of time. That was the case with the nomads and all the civilizations that followed. One kingdom would flourish by destroying another. One government would become stronger by bombing its opposition, often killing far too many innocents in the process. And later on, after the invasion, species of mythics could prosper and live, only at the cost of human death and suffering.”
“I don’t think life is quite so nihilistic,” Wyatt volleys back easily, bumping my shoulder with his. “If it was, things like fate and destiny wouldn’t exist. Yes, in the grand scheme of things, we’re all insignificant ants, but we don’t live in the grand scheme of things—we live for finite periods, and what we do has the potential to affect many lives that’ll follow ours.”
The light of the castle illuminates our surroundings the closer we get to it, and I notice many floating orbs of light scattered about. They’re beautiful, and I realize now that they’re probably a courtesy of one of Claude’s spells.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see what fate and destiny have in store for us,” I say as we cross the courtyard and step through the entrance of the palace.
“I think it’s pretty clear that, whatever the endgame with us is, our actions are going to inevitably impact a lot of people. That’s our burden.”
The rest of the walk is in comfortable silence as Wyatt guides me through many halls, passageways, and staircases on our way to his brother’s personal wing. Once we’re in front of a large twin-arched double door, Wyatt says, “I’ll see you later when we take your sister to the library. Maybe she can grill me on my knowledge of books too.”
With a half-smile, he strolls away, and I nervously finger the hem of my shirt as I face the entrance to Camden’s wing. Before I can knock to announce my presence, the door slides open, revealing my treacherous mate.