Page 117 of Shifters Reckoning

The raccoon alpha cornered me by the mess hall with a piece of paper and a look of tremendous purpose. “About the menu,” he said.

I closed my eyes. There was a monster in the Void. My mate was hours from the fight of the age, and the raccoon alpha blocked my path with a menu.

“The feast we never got to eat under the Beaver Moon,” he said, with great dignity. “The horde interrupted it. My people had prepared. I submitted a menu.” He held it out. “When this is over, when we win, and I know we might not, there should be a feast. A real one. I would like it noted, on the record, that the raccoon clan is to cater it. Our way, though nothing washed after it’s cooked.”

I considered that ridiculous, defiant piece of paper. He was doing exactly what I was doing. He was working on the assumption that there would be an after to spend for all of us. A raccoon planning a menu the night before the end of the world was the bravest kind of stubbornness there was.

“Approved,” I said and shook his hand. “Raccoon clan manages the victory feast. Officially. Nothing washed.” I paused. “And you personally get to tell my mate’s mother that her sweet potatoes go on the menu whether the raccoons approve of them or not, because I am not fighting that war twice.”

He blanched. Even the raccoon alpha knew better than to cross Sophia Carter.

By late afternoon, the alliance was as whole as I could make it with promises and the last of my leverage. They’d all agreed to the plan…

All except for Ville Platte.

Marcus sat in my study in one of the good upholstered chairs in front of my desk. Della waited near the door. He turned toward the window until I crossed over the threshold. He twisted in his seat, his blind eyes trained on a point past me.

“They still won’t have me,” he said. Not a question. “Even now.”

I’d spent all afternoon ensuring peace between our clans during the most important battle of our lives. Maybe we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats, but I couldn’t bargain my way into Marcus being accepted by the collection of shifters in Six-Mile or in Ville Platte.

A Steele had walked at the front of the enemy’s horde, and a Steele had sat quietly inside our warding with the enemy’s own voice in his skull for weeks and had never said a word.

Garrick’s faction had shut up about it, out of respect for the success of the raid, but quiet wasn’t the same as settled, and Ville Platte’s own people were on the fence about Marcus’s ability to lead them.

“When I go home, I go home whole, or I don’t go home at all,” Marcus had repeatedly vowed. He’d meant his eyes. However, the lack of sight was the smaller problem. A blind alpha, cats might have begrudgingly permitted. A blind alpha whose loyalty ran with the enemy? That Ville Platte would not accept. Remaining in Six-Mile insulated Marcus from the fallout, but it was coming.

“There’s a way to make it work,” I said. “You’re not going to like it, but I’m going to make you do it anyway.”

He frowned. “You’re going to open my head.”

“I’m going to ask you to allow it.” I took a seat on the other side of the desk, put my elbows on the surface, and folded my hands. “Become an open book, as it were.”

“So not you?”

“No. Torbin delves. You know that. He sifted through Salali, and he’s the one shifter in Louisiana no one, not even Garrick, will call a liar. Your sister’s lucid in stretches now. The whispers in your head are coming in clearer.”

“True, but what does that have to do with this?”

“Torbin delves the link in your head with Emma’s help, and the link in your sister’s head by proxy, and we witness what you both have to say.” I leaned in. “We won’t do it in a corner. We’ll do it in the open, with the relic and a jury who can see everything with their own eyes. The same relic and the same delving that condemned a traitor are going to clear you.”

His jaw worked. “And what if what Torbin shows them is worse than they think? If some of it is his but it looks like mine?”

“Then it looks like yours, and you go down in the open, with the truth on the table instead of death by rumor,” I said. “You’ve never been an alpha I get along with, but I’ve stood next to you for months, Marcus, and you’ve helped keep my Emma safe. That’s worth some respect.” I showed my teeth and then quickly recalled he couldn’t see my expression. “But if anybody asks me, I won’t fucking admit it.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he said, showing his teeth. At least I could see them.

“I’ve also watched you refuse to go home broken, and refuse, every single day, to be the pitiful cat they were all sure you were. I don’t think the truth is worse than they think.” I stood. “I believe it’s one of the best stories in this whole damn war, and you’ve been too proud and too afraid to let anyone hear it. Let them see it all before the moon comes up.”

For a long moment, Marcus said nothing.

Then Della’s quiet voice came from her place near the doorway. “Let them understand it all, Alpha,” she said. “I’ve carried your secret. I’m tired of being the only one who knows you’re not what they whisper to one another. Don’t let me be the only one who knows you for you.”

Marcus was quiet another moment. Then he bowed his head. “Bring the relic,” he said. “Tell me where to stand, and let’s get this over with. The multimorph has a war to wage.”

“May I escort you to the proceedings, m’lady?” I offered my elbow to Emma, trying to lighten the mood of the serious shit we had to do before we got to the even more serious shit.

On the manor porch, she turned and grinned at me. Her eyes flashed, and it reminded me of moonlight through prisms. “Maybe you can take me on a real date sometime.”