Sloan casts me a look of disbelief. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. You three are doing alright? That’s a devastating blow to Gray, for sure.” Sloan shakes his head. “All this progress, and he’s still not a proper person with normal rights in the eyes of the courts.”
I snuggle into Sloan’s side, resting my head to his shoulder. “It just means our work isn’t finished. There’s still a long road ahead. Best not get frustrated this early on. What’s that phrase about it being a marathon and not a sprint?”
“I think that’s the whole phrase.” Sloan kisses my temple and then ruffles my two-inch long chocolate curls. “I’m sorry you have to wait for the world to wise up. For what it’s worth, you’re putting a crown on hold for your principles. I think that’s bloody incredible.”
Everly Ann nips at the pant leg of his suit, sniffing his polished shoe and sneezing with disdain.
“Is the car ready to take us to the ribbon cutting?”
“Us, as in the four of us, yes. Your mutt stays here.”
I pick up Everly Ann so she can lick Sloan’s face. I can’t help it; I love irritating him. “But she really wants to come!”
“I hope she pees on your suit. Or is it a dress? What are you wearing?”
Everly Ann whines for the floor. I set her back down so she can investigate the carpeting.
I stand, striking a pose, though it’s less impressive without my stilettos on. “It’s a suit—charcoal, not black. Gotta stand out in the sea of guards. And the jacket has this gorgeous train that acts like a cape, but sort of looks like half a dress. I love it so much. And see the angled cut of the pants?”
Sloan draws a diagonal line in the air to match. “Your left leg starts at the normal trouser length, and then cuts up at an angle so the right leg hem peaks at your calf.” He gives me a demure applause. “The designers really are fighting over you these days.”
“To be fair, the ribbon cutting is a big deal. I like to think designers aren’t sending me new stuff just for fun, but because this is a monumental event.” My mouth pulls to the side as I point to my brooch. “The sun keeps going crooked.”
Sloan rolls his eyes. “It’s a sun. There’s no top or bottom. It’s a circle.”
I bristle that he’s not taking my plight seriously. “I can tell it’s gone wonky.”
He takes out his phone and shows me the time. “Wonky or not, I was sent up here to fetch you. Shoes on, and we’re out.”
At mention of her favorite game, Everly Ann’s ears prick up.
Gray and Paxton trot into my dressing room together. Gray is dressed in the suit I had tailored to fit him perfectly. I love the navy on his russet skin. And the lavender shirt gives just enough color to his cheeks.
Paxton is impressive in his light gray suit. It’s paired with a lavender shirt that’s a shade darker than Gray’s. I don’t know why it’s important for our color scheme to complement each other every time, but it matters to me. It sends the subliminal signal to the world that the three of us are a team, and everything in the palace is running smoothly.
Or maybe I’m making up for lost time, relishing the freedom of being able to play dress-up with two such delicious models.
Gray runs his hands through his shorter hair. It’s been two months, and he’s still not used to the cut that matches Paxton’s. My hair is finally longer than his, though not by much. “You about ready, Arly-girl?”
I love that the three of us never stop greeting each other with a kiss. “Just getting my shoes.”
Gray moves to the giant walk-in that truly could be a bedroom on its own. “These ones?”
“How’d you guess? You’re getting better at picking out my shoes.”
Gray chuckles and brings them over, getting down on one knee to slide them on my feet. “You’ve been talking about the little charcoal bow on the ankle all week. I pay attention.”
My nails run through his hair while he fastens the strap, his large fingers making an effort to be gentle with me. His lips press to my knee, and I’m fairly certain I love him even more than I did yesterday, which I didn’t think possible.
“You ready for your big speech?” I ask him.
Gray’s face falls. “I don’t know why you both insist I should say anything. We’ve been doing fine with the two of you doing all the talking and me sticking to the background. Just me standing near you is a big enough controversy to get people all riled up.”
I squat down so I can look him in the eye. “You have good ideas, and you’re a great man. You’ve stood silent long enough. Now you need a voice.”
A flash of fear crosses Gray’s features. “They’re not going to like it.”
Paxton migrates to our sides. “But they need it. They need to hear your perspective. It was one-third your idea to turn Prigham’s into a community center. The shifters all look to you. They need to see you’ve been given a voice and real power to help them. They need hope.”
“Hope?” The word sounds strangely powerful on my tongue.
Then Paxton takes my elbow and helps me to stand tall in my stilettos. His lips tickle the shell of my ear as he whispers. “You’re supposed to stand for this part, Arlanna. I’m to kneel.”
I’m not processing Paxton’s words as he drops down to one knee beside Gray, who, even though my shoes are properly affixed, is still kneeling.
Sloan stands and kisses my cheek, then moves toward the exit. He pauses, holding my gaze with a steadiness that tells me he’s always had hope for my future, even when I abandoned the notion. “Best not wait for society to hand you what you want. Take it, Arly. Take the future you deserve.”
What are they doing? How does Sloan know what the look of devotion in their eyes means before I do?
The crushing blow that had been the council’s vote to veto shifter marriages left the three of us in tatters. Me throwing myself into the community center details was a convenient diversion from the frustration that threatened to turn me into an angry person.
But looking down at the beautiful men on their knees, I realize I’ve missed the point of the whole thing. It’s not about whether or not Gray is allowed to be married; it’s that he wants to marry me, and attach himself to Paxton in the process.
Paxton takes my right hand, and Gray holds my left. My king blinks up at me with too much devotion, too much foresight into a future I sometimes have a hard time picturing. “Arlanna, I’ve always been yours. When the time is right, will you marry me?”
Words are gone from my brain. I can’t think of a response, because it comes with too many addendums.
Of course I want to marry Paxton, but not without Gray. But naturally, Paxton thought through his request, phrasing it in such a way that I know he would never ask that of me.
Gray’s thumb sweeps over my knuckles, warming my hand because that’s just who he is. “Arly, you’ll always be mine. When the time is right, will you marry me?”
Moisture clouds my vision, but finally I can see a glimpse into the future I’ve been told will never exist.
And there we are, the three of us going about our daily life—loving the people before we make it a point to rule over them.