“Theodore.” Margot’s soft voice cut through the thickening aggression in the air. There was no reprimand there, but a firm command. Stop.
Theodore locked eyes with his wife for several heartbeats, communicating with her on a level that only they understood, before he drew his shoulders back and turned away. Pacing to the windows, he growled, “Just tell me who I need to behead.”
“Well, that’s going to be complicated,” Viktor grimly replied, “because my money is on Alpha Andreas.”
Theodore sent him a blisteringly exasperated look. “The same Alpha Andreas who keeps trying to fucking sabotage any proposed treaty between the EVP and the Alliance? That Alpha Andreas?”
Viktor rubbed his eyes. “Yes. I don’t know what he has against elves personally, but he was one of my shithead father’s best friends. He’s had it out for me since I took over, and he’s been loudly accusing me of essentially being an elvish spy since I petitioned the Alliance. In the last meeting he made it very clear that my connections to your family were tantamount to me working directly for you.” He didn’t mention the call, simply because he felt foolish for ignoring the very real threat the bully posed. Regret roughened his voice when he finished simply, “He wanted my bid thrown out.”
“The assumption being that you would serve our interests in the Alliance.”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched. Outside, the faint sounds of Benny and Kaz having a low conversation drifted in through an open window. The vague shadows of Theodore’s Guard flitted back and forth in front of that window — a whole unit, ready to lay down their lives for the sovereign and his mate at any moment.
He thought it was overkill before, but now… Now he understood. There would never be a moment’s peace for him after this.
It was Camille herself who broke the tense quiet that had settled over them. In a low, detached voice, she said, “I’m a Solbourne. What will happen if they find out about… us? If they were against even an informal alliance, wouldn’t they balk at me being your mate?”
Viktor felt every eye settle on him. Breathing out slowly, he turned his head to look at her.
Camille was sitting stiffly against the couch cushions, her violet eyes fixed on him. Her expression was reserved, impassive, giving nothing away.
His coyote hated that look. It was distant, too far from him. It wasn’t the vibrant mate he knew, but someone cold, out of his reach. He wanted his soft, trusting Camille, not this beautiful, brittle creature who hid her thoughts from him.
It cut him to the quick to know he had that softness in his embrace so very briefly.
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” he answered, his voice a serrated edge of pure emotion. “You’re my mate. They would have to accept it.”
“But they wouldn’t necessarily have to accept your pack, would they?” she pressed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Margot’s pale hand tighten on Camille’s shoulder in a supportive squeeze.
Sweat began to dew on the exposed skin of his chest. He didn’t like where this was going at all. “If you wore my mark, they wouldn’t—”
“They could still reject your pack.” Camille blinked, and for just a moment he saw behind the shields she’d put up. The devastation he spied there nearly took his breath away. “Or they could try to kill you again, just to be rid of the problem altogether.”
Desperation no longer tickled the edges of his mind. It sank into every fiber of his being. “No, Cam, that’s not going to happen. If Andreas was desperate enough to actually send someone to kill me, then that must mean the Alliance is voting in my favor. They want us.”
“But you don’t know that for certain, do you? Who’s to say that learning about me won’t tip them over onto the other side?” With each word, her expression grew starker, the skin around her eyes and mouth tighter. “Your whole pack could lose the chance of a lifetime because of me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he pressed, heart beating hard and fast in his chest. Panic ran over his insides like tiny razors, skinning him of all the golden contentment he’d so briefly known. “Cam, if you took my mark, no one would be able to reject us on those grounds. You’d be pack.”
Viktor reached for her hand, but she jerked it out of his reach to settle it in her lap. He stared at it numbly.
He’d been shot only hours before, but Viktor was certain nothing had ever hurt him as much as that small rejection.
He watched, throat tightening painfully, as she turned her eyes on her cousin. Theodore met her gaze squarely. His expression was grave. The tiniest tilt of his head conveyed a wealth of sympathy, of understanding, as if he knew exactly what his cousin was about to say but wished he didn’t.
Camille, sounding dazed, murmured, “Teddy, I think I’d like to go back to my apartment now. I need… I need to think.”
“Okay, Cammie,” he replied. “We’ll take you home.”
Viktor felt like the life was being squeezed out of him. “Cam, don’t.”
One beautiful lavender hand reached out to touch his arm. Her skin was cool and slightly clammy against his. “I’m not leaving you. I can’t. You’re mine, Vik,” she whispered, breath hitching. “I just… I need to clear my head.”
The coyote didn’t see the difference, and the man struggled with the concept, too. Choked, he asked, “Can’t you do that here? With me?”
Camille squeezed his arm. “No, Vik. I don’t think I can.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
Camille turned to look at Margot hovering by her bedroom door. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and dark green skirt, her red hair braided over one shoulder and her face clear of any strain, any sign at all that she had spent the better part of the night saving a man’s life.
She looked bright and beautiful and full of life. In Camille’s current state, that was utterly intolerable.
“Thank you, Margot,” she rasped, striving for a tone that didn’t bely how very close she was to stepping off of an emotional cliff. Camille wasn’t in the habit of revealing her vulnerabilities to anyone besides her brother, but even he wouldn’t be privy to her coming meltdown. “I just— I need to be alone for a while.”
Margot’s angular brows pinched together. Her lips pursed, and when she sucked in a deep breath, her narrow shoulders rose. Every line of her body spoke loudly, I don’t think that’s a good idea.
“I understand,” she said at length, “but… I just want you to know that I get what you’re feeling right now.”
Camille couldn’t stop the strained laugh that bubbled like acid up her throat. What did this dignified, sweet-faced little halfling know about having her world completely yanked out from under her again and again? “You do? How?”
“Yeah.” Margot smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. It was soft and sad and full of memory. “Like you want to keep fighting for a chance to have a little bit of happiness, but every choice presented to you is the wrong one. Like there is no good outcome, no path that doesn’t lead to misery. Like you just… can’t win.”