*Maddox*
We are making progress on the war front. Every day, we are able to push our enemies back a little more without actually having to fight. I know that Alpha Eugene is doing his best to try to get others to come into the fray on his side, but so far, none of his negotiating is doing him any good.
I know why that is, too, but I don’t want to admit it to anyone. Seth is the only one who dares to bring it up to me, and when he does, I bite his head off every time and tell him we have more important matters to attend to.
“Sir,” he says as I sit in my tent staring at a map of the territory we have just claimed from one of Alpha Geofrey’s allies, “I believe you were going to call Miss Isla this evening about this time, weren’t you?”
I look up at him in a bit of a daze. I’ve obviously lost track of time. “Oh, yes,” I mumble. “Thank you.” I have a portable phone, though they are very rare in our lands. We don’t have a lot of towers to help with signal transmission, so if everyone had a cell phone, chances are, none of the calls would ever go through.
“Alpha,” he says, “do you think… now might be a good time to… bring up the subject with Miss Isla?” He hands me the phone, and it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as I hold it in my hand, staring at him in disbelief.
“Bring up what?” I ask him, hoping he’s not as stupid as I think he must be to ask me such an asinine question.
“The queen… contest,” he stammers. “The truth of the matter, so that if she hears it from someone else, she won’t assume the worst.”
I can’t help but stare at him for a long moment. My first thought is to tell him to get the hell out of here before I do something I’ll regret, but then I take a deep breath and remind myself that he has been my good friend for a very long time, and if I do something irrational, I will regret it.
Finally, I shake my head and say, “That’s not necessary, Seth. You may go.”
His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and then he closes it, but opens it again. He looks like a largemouth bass on the shore of a lake, trying to suck a bit of oxygen into his lungs but choking on the air.
“But, Alpha, you should know,” Beta Seth finally gets out, “people are talking.”
“What people, Seth?” I demand to know, as if he is solely responsible for this entire fiasco. “The other Alphas? Who are they going to tell that is going to say something to anyone back in our castle? All of the information out of the front lines is being handled very carefully so that our enemies cannot be tipped off. I very much doubt anyone is writing a letter to someone at the castle telling them that I am holding a contest to crown the next Luna Queen.”
“While it’s true none of these soldiers are likely doing that, Sir,” he continues, “the Alphas’ daughters very well might be. I’ve heard rumors that many of the Alphas have already told their daughters to begin to prepare to go to the castle as soon as the war is over. Many of them are very excited about the prospect. They will talk.”
This is new information to me, and it is alarming. Why would they be doing that? Why would they be talking about something I haven’t announced yet? Why would the Alphas take it upon themselves to tell their daughters anything?
Nevertheless, my state of denial is so deep, I only shake my head at him. “Even if that is the case, the Alphas’ daughters will not be talking to Isla.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Not directly, I’m sure, but… Maddox… what about the servants?”
Very rarely does Beta Seth use my first name. When he does, it has to be an important matter because he knows it will grab my attention.
And… he probably has a point.
Servants do tend to talk to one another—a lot. They listen in on the important bits and pieces of our conversations that do not apply to them, change them in a way that will make them seem more interesting, at least to them, twist them up, and spit them out in such a way that once they get back to us, we can hardly recognize them as the truth.
I am trying to think about how that sort of information could travel back to Isla, though, and I don’t think it’s possible. The only servant she speaks to these days is Poppy, and while Poppy does have a tendency to know what’s going on within the castle, she’s not well connected outside of it. And I doubt she’s got much time to spend chatting with the other servants when I’m not there. She’s likely keeping Isla company twenty-four/seven.
No, I think I’m fine.
It’s not that I don’t know I’ll have to tell her eventually. Of course, I will. But I want to do it in person. I want to be able to look her in the eye and say, “Listen, I am doing this to help with the war efforts—and that’s all. Of course, as the daughter of an Alpha, you are also part of the queen consort contest, and of course, I will be choosing you.”
Only… I don’t intend to take a Luna Queen—still.
If I were ever going to take one, it would be Isla, of course. I do love her, more than anything, and she is the mother of my unborn child.
But being back in Alpha Charlton’s castle tells me I am not ready for another wife. Being in Trinity’s presence tells me I have a lot of haunting spirits to exorcise.
It seems to me that Seth finally understands that there’s nothing he can say to me to convince me that telling Isla about the upcoming shenanigans is a good idea. He finally bows his head to me in respect and leaves the tent.
I know there will be no fighting this evening. Alpha Geofrey’s troops have taken off in advance of our troops moving in, and we haven’t caught up to them yet. We still outnumber them greatly, and both of our flanks are covered well in case he should try to send in an ally from one direction or the other to attack us.
No, we’ll be just fine tonight. I’m sure of it.
I will call Isla and have a leisurely chat about our days. Hers will be mostly uneventful—reading, walking in the garden, chatting with Poppy. And I will tell her the truth about my day—that I’ve spent most of it staring at a map.
But at least I will get to hear her voice and tell her I love her.
I dial the number and wait. My eyes drift back to the map. I look at the potential places where we can trap Geofrey and his warriors so we can round them up and end this game. But then I remind myself that I’m purposely trying to prolong it so I don’t have to get on with this other ridiculous stunt, and I let out a deep sigh.
It’s then that I realize the phone has rung over ten times, and Isla isn’t answering.
Her phone doesn’t have an answering service or anything. I wonder how many times it can ring before it stops? I might be about to find out. I continue to let it ring, waiting as patiently as I can.
Where the hell is she?
She had to have known that I was going to call her tonight.
After about forty rings, I hear, “Hello?” in a sharp tone, and I know instantly it is not my Isla on the other end.
It is Poppy, and she sounds irritated. That’s not too surprising, considering it is Poppy, and she is often irritated. But she has to know it is me calling, so I would expect her to be a bit more respectful.
But then, I suppose it could be one of Isla’s family members calling. Perhaps someone has been calling a lot and annoying her. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Hello, Poppy. It’s King Maddox. May I speak to Isla, please?”
“I’m not sure, Your Majesty,” she says, and her tone is just as snippy as it was before. “Let me check with the princess.” She says the words “the princess” like she thinks I might need a reminder of who she is.
I think this is all rather odd and wonder if perhaps Isla isn’t feeling well. My thoughts immediately go to the baby. I hope all is well.
A moment later, I hear Isla’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Hello?” Her tone is soft, and her voice is a bit hoarse, like perhaps she has been crying.
“Hi,” I say, sweetly. It’s nice to hear her voice. It instantly brings a smile to my face. Even if something is going on back at the castle, I hope it’s not so much that she isn’t happy to hear from me. It’s definitely possible that Poppy has done something to irritate Isla—again. She really is getting too big for her britches, that one.
“Hi, Maddox,” she says, and her tone doesn’t sound any more friendly. That’s all she says.
“What’s the matter?” I ask her. “Did you and Poppy have an argument?”
“Poppy and I?” she repeats. Then she scoffs at me. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then, what is it?” I ask her.
She clears her throat, and I have a feeling that something terrible has happened. I’ve been bracing myself for news that she’s lost the baby since the moment I found out she became pregnant right before the horrible circumstances she’d been in when she was kidnapped and drugged. So I am wondering if that’s what the problem is.
I can’t help but ask, “Is it the baby?”
“No,” she says quickly. “It’s not the baby. The baby is fine, Maddox.”
“Then what is it?” I ask her.
She waits a moment and then takes a deep breath before asking me, “I was wondering if perhaps there’s something you wanted to tell me about.”
A cold chill goes down my spine. She can’t possibly know already, can she?
No, I have to assume that she doesn’t. I try to figure out how it would be possible. Perhaps I am in denial, but when I answer her, I infuse my voice with innocence. “Tell you about?” I ask. “No… why?”
The line goes dead.