“Plum pudding?” Amelia’s eyes grew wide with excitement. The news went really well with her new condition, as she had been craving plum pudding since the beginning of December, when the Christmas spirit had begun to settle in.
“Figured you might like that.”
“I had no idea it was a thing in Alaska.”
Seth scratched the back of his head in that cute, boyish way that made Amelia weak in the knees. “It’s not exactly family tradition, and I did need a lot of help with it, but I thought it might make you feel like… you know… home.”
Amelia looked up at him. She tried to fight the tears which instantly gathered at the corners of her eyes, but it was in vain.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He pulled her against his chest, kissed the top of her head, and started caressing her hair. “Why are you crying?”
Amelia sniffed but stayed silent for a couple of minutes. She wanted to have control over her voice when she spoke.
“Shh… it’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know.” She sniffed loudly. “It’s just that… you’re so nice and so good to me. I… I do miss London sometimes, but this is my home. Here, with you… Home.”
Seth smiled and hugged her tightly. They stayed like that, embraced in the middle of his small kitchen, for long minutes. Amelia cried a bit into his chest, although she honestly had no idea why she had broken down like that. So suddenly and unexpectedly. Her first Christmas in Alaska, her first Christmas as the Alpha bride of Clan Sylfur was nothing like she had hoped it would be. It was sad and scary. Despite the delicious smell of food coming from the table and of fresh pine coming from the Christmas tree in the living room, she could still smell the stuffy air in Roman’s room. The smell of old age and decay. The smell of lost hope.
***
Blake tapped “end call” and slipped the smartphone back into her pocket. She stood in front of the window for long minutes, looking at the snow-covered landscape, listening to the soft whisper of the wind as it hit the walls of the mansion. It was the first day of the worst Christmas she had ever had. She hoped at least Amelia had had a good time with Seth. The night before, she had insisted the girl went to his cabin. There was no point in staying at the mansion when no one had even prepared a proper Christmas dinner. Roman barely ate anything, and Blake herself had been living off wine and crackers for the past month. Even the smell of food could turn her stomach.
She sighed and finally stepped away from the window. Going to her father’s room in the morning was never easy. She could hear him breathing weakly through the two doors that separated them, and she knew he was awake. She also knew he was weaker than the night before. With each and every day that passed, Roman Sylfur was inching closer to the end of his life, and it broke Blake’s heart and s
pirit that she had to witness it, that she had to witness this once strong and determined man wither and die before her eyes. She took a deep breath, however, and exited her room, crossed the corridor, and went into her father’s room, a big smile plastered on her face.
“Merry Christmas, dad! Did you sleep well?”
Roman turned his head slowly, his thin lips stretching in a sad smile. All that was left of his handsome face was pale skin and sharp bones. He was a ghost of the man Blake and the whole Clan Sylfur had known.
“Yes, thank you.”
Blake sat down in the armchair next to his bed and placed her hands on her knees.
“I have to tell you something.”
Roman closed his eyes for a second and nodded. Blake had taken over most of his duties as the Inari of the clan, but there were still some things which were too important to keep from him.
“The Summit,” he whispered.
“Yes. I just talked to Jonathan Redfur.”
The old man’s white eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He called you himself? That’s new…”
“Yeah, I was just as surprised as you are, believe me.”
This year, no representative of Clan Sylfur had attended the Summit. With Roman on his death bed, his brothers had preferred to stick around. Blake and Amelia could have attended, especially since Amelia was in her third month and her scent had changed and become so much more powerful, but neither of them had even wanted to hear of it. No one was in the mood for world politics when the only five-tailed Inari in the world was about to die and leave a wobbly situation for his heir to deal with.
“It seems that the Blackmanes are back in the Council’s good graces,” started Blake.
“Good news,” noted Roman. “This time, the werefoxes were in the wrong.”
“I agree, but you won’t like the rest of the story. They presented the Council with well-researched evidence that werefox clans and earths from all over the world take more shifter-brides than necessary to grow their numbers. Clan Sylfur was at the top of the list, along with a large clan in the Urals. You can imagine Jonathan wasn’t pleased, but there was nothing he could do about it. The Blackmanes were right, and the Council decided to pass a law which will prevent fox-shifters from taking more than two brides, one for their Inari and one for their Yako, just like most of the wolf-shifters and dragon-shifters have been doing since the peace treaty was signed.”
“It was about time…”
Blake straightened her back.