Chapter 73: 74: Parental Perspectives

ARIEL

My wolf gives me a nudge forward as I greet the journalist—an intense-looking woman who’ll be conducting my interview.

I don’t know whether to admit that she’s caught me off guard or assume that she already knows that.

~Perhaps that was part of the plan?~

My nervousness must be evident.

The interviewer, whose name I’ve already forgotten, says, “We’re here to make you look good, Your Majesty. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Would you mind giving me a minute?” I say. “I didn’t—”

“Have a chance to get camera-ready,” my mother says.

“Not at all,” the interviewer says.

~Linda. I think her name is Linda.~

~Or Lisa?~

After five minutes of getting ready for the flash of the cameras, I emerge again, hopefully looking a little less hungover than I feel.

“Don’t worry,” my mother says. “This will be great for our image.”

Her words aren’t convincing. ~I could still send the team home.~

“It’ll make Alex proud,” my mother says.

I think about the way I handled my first press attention and decide she’s right. However inconvenient it is that she neglected to tell me, maybe it’s for the best.

~It’s not like I would have agreed to this…~

“Let’s start with your background,” Linda/Lisa says as we settle into our seats. “You started out as a warrior for the Crescent Moon Pack?”

“Yes, I—”

“It took some time for Ariel to grow into the woman she is today,” my mother says. “As a child, she was insecure in her femininity, and she sought an escape in her warrior squad.”

“Um. Well, no, I’m quite proud—” I say.

“Of who she’s become since then. Well put, my dear. We’re all proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

The interviewer tries another tactic. “Would you say that you’ve always valued being a leader, having risen from the military ranks?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’ve often benefited from having excellent mentors in my life. And I hope that one day I may offer a sliver of their wisdom to others.”

My mother makes a face like I’ve said the wrong thing.

The interviewer pauses. “I don’t know if this is something you want to talk about, but you were tortured by Hunters for two years…”

“It’s okay,” I say. “Those memories are painful, but they’ve made me who I am today.”

“I think that’s all we need to say about that,” my mother says. “Ariel is one-hundred percent recovered from the experience. The past is the past.”

I look at her. She seems to think she’s saving me from myself, but my past is part of who I am, and I’m not ashamed of it.

I think about the type of leader she’s been pushing me to be.

~Is that even who I am?~

My wolf growls at Dianne’s answers to the Hunter question.

She wants to speak out—to cut off the obviously prepared responses my mother is reciting, and to give the reporter the true facts.

But I find myself backing down as Dianne gives me a look that cautions me not to speak any further on the topic.

~It was a horrible experience, but it led me here and into Alex’s life.~

~That’s all that matters.~

***

Vivian approaches as the journalist leaves with her camera crew. She gives me a sympathetic look.

“Handling media attention is always a challenge,” she says. “I’ve been around it for years, and it’s still not easy.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for it,” I say.

“I don’t think anyone is. But there are certain tricks you pick up over time. I’m here to help.” She smiles.

“Anything come to mind?”

“Stay on message. It doesn’t matter what they ask, you work in your narrative.”

I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “And what if you don’t know what that narrative is?”

“You might need a media strategist,” she says. “And I don’t mean your mother.”

I smile. “Maybe. It’s just so hard to project this image of who I am, when I don’t even know who that is. These days…it’s like I’m losing myself in expectations.”

“I can only imagine,” Vivian says. “I’ve dealt with some level of press scrutiny. But an ambassador isn’t nearly as interesting as a queen.”

“I just… I don’t want to turn into someone I’m not.”

“I can relate. I’m not sure I’ve been true to myself lately either,” she says, glancing around as if to ensure no one can overhear our conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve learned so much in these past weeks… Staying with the Royal Pack has opened my eyes.”

I hadn’t really considered that before. Vivian gives off such a professional vibe that I assumed she was intimately familiar with the customs of both werewolves and humans.

I’m curious to push further. “Opened your eyes to what, exactly?”

Vivian’s cheeks color. “Oh, all sorts of things... Amy’s mating ceremony, for example! I can’t wait to see it. I’ve never been to one before.”

“It’s going to be beautiful. You can give me a rundown on the differences between human weddings and mating ceremonies after.”

“I’d be happy to! I can already tell you that the concept of mates is a big difference,” Vivian says. “That really intrigues me.”

“It’s a complicated subject. Most werewolves don’t even understand it. Amy and Marius aren’t destined mates, and neither are Alex and me. My ‘true’ mate turned out to be a psychopath…”

Vivian makes an empathetic noise. It must be hard for her to understand this experience as a human without a destined mate. Even her chosen spouse will never be as connected to her as a werewolf mate would be.

I wish Xavier and I weren’t destined mates, but without that painful experience, I wouldn’t be with Alex—our connection means the world to me.

“I lost my destined mate, but that led me to my chosen mate, Alex.”

“Interesting... So, even if it’s not your destined mate, once you mark each other…”

“You become mates. Yes.”

“Circumventing fate in a way,” she says. “Hmm.”

“Exactly right, Fate is the sister of Selene, the Moon Goddess.”

Vivian’s jaw drops.

“One of your goddesses is literally Fate?”

“Yep. And what she had planned for me wasn’t exactly a feel-good story,” I say. “Fate can be cruel. I know that better than most.”

***

“I can’t believe you’re finally settling down,” I say.

“Me neither, to be honest,” Amy says, surveying her ceremony dress in the full-length mirror.

It took a few attempts, but Amy found a gown that she loves.

She looks striking in a fit and flare gown with a sweetheart neckline. It’s white, with an asymmetrical detail of black roses coiling around her waist and down the skirt.

~So dramatic. So Amy.~

The lace material is a few shades darker than her white-blonde hair, perfectly complementing her alabaster skin.

I’ve plaited her hair into a French braid and accentuated her stunning blue eyes with thick, winged eyeliner. “I’m so goddess-damn happy I feel stupid.”

I laugh with her; I know the feeling.

The day—the hour—of Amy’s mating ceremony has finally arrived. And, since the service is at the palace, we’re getting ready in the royal suite bathroom.

“You look gorgeous,” I say. “You ready?”

“I just need the veil,” she says. “The proper one—not the one I may or may not have left at the strip club.”

“I think it’s in the other room.” I take Amy’s hand as we exit.

I know from experience how easy it is to trip on the train of a ceremony gown. And Amy’s sparkling heels are a stark contrast with the bare feet I wore at my own ceremony.

We affix the veil and descend the staircase—only to be almost trampled by a parade of Amy’s relatives the moment we reach the entryway.

“You’re so beautiful, honey!” Her mother looks ecstatic.

“Thanks, Mom,” Amy says.

“Ariel, so much has changed since I’ve seen you last.” Amy’s mother kisses me on both cheeks. “I’m glad you’ve found your place. After everything.”

“Thanks, Beverly,” I say. “How amazing is it that Amy’s getting mated?”

“I know. Marius is such a good man.”

We continue to exchange pleasantries as Amy greets the rest of her relatives. I haven’t seen Beverly since before I was kidnapped, but she was important to me back then.

My relationship with my own mother was so distant that, when I was a teenager, Beverly filled that gap.

“That’s Natalia,” someone says in a loud whisper behind me. “The baby’s ~his~.”

“Whose?” another voice says.

“Xavier’s. I bet she wishes she didn’t choose that psychotic alpha now, but what can ya do? You can’t un-have a baby. Hopefully his criminal behavior isn’t genetic.”

I spin on my heel, furious.

~Who said that?!~

I locate the offenders: a pair of middle-aged mates. They must be Amy’s distant relatives.

“What do you know about my sister? Or what she’s been through?” I say.

“I—we—well—” the man stammers.

“You’re my guests here. I’d ask you not to insult any member of the royal family while you’re within these castle walls.”

The man’s cheeks flush pink, and his mate nods furiously.

I turn back around just in time to see Natalia brushing past me.

“Thanks,” she says almost too quietly to hear.

I stare at her back as she disappears with Xavi.

~Did I imagine that?~

~Did she actually thank me?~

VIVIAN

Amy’s mating ceremony is as beautiful as everyone predicted. It’s held in the palace’s ballroom, which has been decorated with garlands of white roses.

I feel like I’m part guest and part lupinologist, both experiencing and observing the beauty before me.

There are many similarities between a human wedding and a werewolf mating ceremony.

Ariel is Amy’s maid of honor, standing by her side in a periwinkle-and-gold dress. Marius’s maid of honor is his brother, Alpha Lucius.

One of the principal differences between weddings and mating ceremonies seems to be the language used both by the officiant and the mates.

They don’t make promises that seem like the bare minimum of what love should be. These things are assumed. Their words are more profound because it’s understood that this bond will last forever.

There’s no hint of any other option, save death.

Alex delivers his speech to the newly mateds:

“I have my own experience with starting a relationship with a chosen mate.

“But don’t think that because you chose each other rather than being destined, that your love is any less powerful or real.

“The fact you chose, you looked into the other wolf’s eye and said, ‘I choose to stand by you through life and death…’ That is stronger than any bond ordained by the Moon Goddess.”

I’m embarrassed to find tears filling my eyes.

As I glance around, I notice that there isn’t a dry eye in the room.

I’m surprised to see that werewolves are so in touch with their feelings. That they’re so loving. That they’re so…what back home we would call ~human~.

~I wish I could have a mate.~

~Is it possible for a half-werewolf to have one?~

~Perhaps if I prayed to the Moon Goddess, she would look kindly on me…~

I hear my phone buzz against the side of my purse and take it out discreetly. The warmth I was feeling drains from my body.

Dad

No more wasting time.

Dad

This is your last chance.

Dad

You have to do it TONIGHT.

For a moment—a beautiful moment—I forgot why I’m here.

What my father expects of me…

~But this is his vendetta, not mine.~

~Can I actually go through with this?~

~Oh God…or Goddess…give me strength to see this through.~

I have to follow my father’s orders. He won’t accept anything less.

I have to kill Xavier.