Departure Ella Sinclair and I dress very formally that night, knowing that how we bid our farewell to the
Atalaxian delegation is going to be something that we handle with a great deal of care, especially as we
know that Calvin will be there. We even wear our crowns, hoping that they oblige the Atalaxians to see
us as representatives of the state which they intend to destroy.
Rafe, unfortunately, has other ideas about his formality.
“Oh, god,” I sigh when he shrieks and pulls his tiny crown off for the third time.
“Dominic, he won’t wear it “So don’t make him,” Sinclair says with a grin, coming to stand close to me
in our closet, putting his hand on my back and peering down at our son.
Honestly, he’s a baby -” “He is the future King – “I huff as I slide Rafe’s crown around my wrist like a
bracelet. “Without the crown he’s just our little baby meatball – ” Sinclair laughs now, taking the baby
from me and holding him high up in the air, making Rafe shriek with laughter. “Did you hear how your
mommy talks about you, Rafe!?” Sinclair calls, pretending to be appalled. Rafe just giggles harder,
delighted. “A future King, and she calls you a meatball!” “He is,” I say, laughing and reaching for him.
“He’s my little meatball, though,” I murmur, taking him back into my arms and leaning into my mate.
“He’s just getting so big. And he’s very round.” “Wolf babies grow faster than human babies,” Sinclair
murmurs, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek and then Rafe on my head.
“That’s horrible,” I murmur, clutching my little baby to me. I turn my mouth down at my baby. “You quit it,
Rafe. Stay little.” “Not forever,” he says with a sigh. ” Just through these first couple months so that
they’re stronger, then it kind of evens out. But yeah…he’s going to start getting teeth soon.” “What?” I
gasp, appalled and looking up at Sinclair. “He’s too little for that!” “Sorry, love,” Sinclair murmurs,
kissing my hair. “Our little pup needs his fangs.” “Well,” I sigh, turning to the room when Sinclair tugs
me in that direction. “As soon as those show up, I am done breastfeeding.” Sinclair laughs with me as
we make our way to the door. But both of us grow serious as we pass through it, because while we’re
certainly able to distract ourselves for a few minutes?
Well. We’re still a nation on the brink of war, and it doesn’t look like there’s anything we can do about it.
At dinner we do our very best, trying every angle we can think of to get the Atalaxians to turn. Henry’s
there, doing the same, though Cora and Roger opted out of this one. I can’t say I blame them – Sinclair
told me on the ride to their house this morning that he’s asked Roger to take charge of the military, and
I have to say – it’s probably given them a lot to think about.
But despite our best efforts, the Atalaxians turn away all of our last- ditch offers and ideas, apparently
determined to go to war. Only Calvin, sitting across the table from us, looks towards us with any real
regret in his expression.
Not that Sinclair is in any mood to look favorably on anything that Calvin says or does. Every time the
Prince visibly moves or breathes, Sinclair sends a growl his way. I keep having to put a hand on my
mate’s knee, reminding him to reel it in.
“Let’s not have any regicide tonight,” I murmur quietly as the meal breaks up.
“It’s not regicide if you kill a Prince out of the line of succession,” Sinclair mutters back, sounding
tempted and making me laugh.
I stand up with a sigh, turning my face up to my mate. “Dominic, I think I have to do this on my own,” I
say, knowing that it’s time to have the difficult conversation with Calvin.
“Absolutely not,” Sinclair snaps, livid.
“I’m serious,” I insist, looking up at him with clear eyes. Rafe, sleeping in my arm, fusses a little, I think
disturbed by our heightened emotions on this subject.
“I’ll keep it together,” Sinclair growls, his words belied by a vicious snarl as he looks over to the corner
of the room, where Calvin is clearly waiting to face us, his shoulders tense even though he has calmly
slipped his hands into his pockets.
I give Calvin a little smile, honestly a bit impressed with the coolness with which he’s handling this. Not
everyone would be able to stand straight and look Dominic Sinclair in the eye the night after hitting on
his mate.
I smirk a little at the thought and quickly pass Rafe into Sinclair’s arms. ” Here,” I murmur. “Just – go
stand outside of the door, and I’ll keep our bond wide open the whole time so you know exactly how I’m
feeling, okay? And if I’m even the least bit uncomfortable, you can come in and bite his head off.”
Sinclair’s growl deepens, but he takes the baby and glares over at Calvin. ” Dominic,” I say, putting a
hand on his arm and making him look back at me. ” Please remember that I have a bond with this man.
My mother wants us to have a connection. Any time you feel like killing him, just look down at Rafe and
let his cuteness lull you into a new calm.” I stand on my toes to give my gigantic scary mate a kiss on
the cheek, and then I step away, heading for Calvin. Sinclair moves to the door, grumbling his
discontent. I smile a little when I see him stand just outside of it so that his shadow still falls into the
room.
“Highness,” Calvin murmurs, giving me a short bow as the last of the Atalaxians filter out of the room
past my mate.
“Ella,” I insist, stepping close and smiling at him, even as I feel a rumble of Sinclair’s unhappiness
shiver down the bond. I smile, ignoring it, and gesture quickly to the other side of the room, where a
couch and comfortable chairs wait. “Will you please come and speak for a little, Calvin? We have…to
talk.” Calvin, to his credit, just glances once towards the door where Sinclair stands before sighing and
heading towards the back of the room. I follow, sitting next to Calvin on the couch, careful to leave
enough space for a person to sit between us.
We’re going to war with his people anyway, Sinclair mutters directly into my mind from outside the door.
Just let me rip his head off.
Part of mom’s plan! I quip, again holding back a grin. Look at Rafe! Take comfort in his cute tiny face!
Calvin turns his head as he studies me, perhaps wondering where my little smile is coming from. But
then he sighs, hanging his head a little. “Are you rejecting our bond, Ella?” he asks, as if afraid of the
answer.
“Calvin,” I say, leaning forward, wanting to touch him but refraining. ” There’s no bond to reject. Or at
least, not the kind that you think there is.” Calvin looks up at me, shocked. ” Ella,” he says, shaking his
head. “Yes, there is. You’re my mate!”
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