average human’s Reviews > Unwilling Queen > Status Update

We make our way over to our bond group, which is close to the front. Gryffin wants to watch his parents’ ceremony. He narrows his eyes on me, and I glare back at him, but he turns his attention upwards, and I do the same. The roof of the ballroom slides open, showing the moon at its zenith. The air begins to buzz with magic as the four royals step up onto the platform and kneel. The crowd falls silent as the goddess Aramis appears in front of them. As one, we all sink to our knees and bow our heads in reverence to the goddess who gave us life.
“Stand, my children.” Her voice reverberates around the room. When we return to our feet, I try to see through the magic to make out what she looks like, but her glow makes it impossible to see any features, even with my heightened sight.
“Lucas, Layla, Mia, and Evelyn, you have been just and kind rulers, and I thank you for your service, but it is time for some new blood. Once I send my magic out, the countdown to the new ruler’s appearance will begin. You four will continue to advise until their mates are found, they are crowned, and have selected their new council.”
There’s some uncomfortable murmuring in the crowd, and I smile. I had forgotten the council was also at risk tonight. The new king or queen always gets to select their new advisory council. In the past, it has remained virtually unchanged, with former kings and queens and their family members, but it is at the discretion of the new ruler. Lucas refused adding the previous queen and her mates to the council because she was a bitter old twat who was jealous and made his mates feel small. She must be at least a hundred by now, which isn’t that old for a shifter since, on average, we live to about three hundred. She lives somewhere in the country toward the borderlands near the witches, banished there by Lucas, which was somewhat of a scandal and unprecedented. She really did not like giving up her magic, or so I’ve been told.
“Please remove the crowns,” the goddess asks, and the four rulers use both hands to lift the symbols of their reign into the air. The goddess waves a hand, and magic swirls around the four frozen people. I see Lucas sag slightly before he straightens and stands tall. Apparently having the magic removed from you is both painful and freeing. The magic swirls around, and the crowns begin to fall apart, becoming one with the swirling magic. A portion breaks off and shoots up into the sky through the open roof in search of the new chosen king or queen, while the remaining magic whirls furiously, growing so large, the king and queens need to step back off the dais.
The crowd murmurs loudly, and I look at Gem, our resident genius bookworm. “What’s happening?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the spectacle. “This is when we find out how many mates the new king or queen will have.”
“It’s pre-decided?” Brodie asks, frowning. “I thought the ruler got to choose.”
“They do get to choose the individuals, but not the number—that is determined by magic.” He waves a hand, shushing us, so I turn my attention back to the platform.
The magic finally settles, and in its place is one large crown—the ruler’s crown. It’s hard to tell whether it’s more masculine or feminine, which I heard was a good indicator of whether a male or female was chosen, but what happens next has the crowd gasping and surprised chatter breaking out despite the goddess’s presence.
Floating on either side of the large crown are six smaller ones, three on each side. “Holy crap, six consorts,” Gem mutters. “There has never been a king or queen with that many consorts.”
The magic fades, the goddess waves a hand, and all seven crowns rest on busts surrounded by glass. The magic surrounding her person clears, and we finally get a look at the goddess. She’s tall, probably seven feet, with a body made for sin, all curves and long legs and lush, flowing gold hair. Her face is so perfect, it’s almost hard to look at. She has a smile on her face, which I would say borders on mischievous. “Ah, six consorts. Yes, that seems like a perfect number for my new chosen. I’m really going to enjoy watching this play out. It’s going to be very interesting,” she murmurs almost to herself before facing us and raising her hands.
“Please join me in thanking your king and queens.” Magic shoots out of her fingertips, and fireworks explode in the air as the crowd bursts into applause. “I will be watching closely. Remember, I am never too far away,” she reminds the crowd, but she turns to look at our bond group, and I feel like she’s staring directly into my soul for a moment before her gaze slides away and she fades as quickly as she first appeared.
The band starts up again, and the applause dies, so I tune into the speculation.
“There has never been so many consorts,” a man behind us murmurs.
“No, usually it’s three,” his female companion replies. “What does this mean?”
“It can’t be anything good,” the man says, and I feel a pang of dread. Great, just what we need, shifters speculating.
“I wonder when they will start appearing?” I turn around to look at the couple discreetly. The woman is craning her neck like they will start appearing at any moment.
“Pfft, everyone knows the marks don’t start appearing until the king or queen has stepped across the threshold of the castle.” Gem glares at the people. “I really do pity the poor chosen. I’m almost certain there will be double the amount of marked consorts for them to choose from. The goddess wouldn’t be so cruel as to give her a small amount to select from. It’s going to be a circus here while they try to woo them.”
“I wonder if we can get an assignment that takes us far away,” Gryffin murmurs. I know he doesn’t care about being picked as a possible consort, still determined to search for that elusive sixth. Damn him.
“What’s to say none of us are going to be marked?” I spit out, being argumentative because he pissed me off.
“Members of bond groups are never marked because we already have a predetermined mate, and it would mean tearing the group apart,” Hunter reminds me.
“Well, that really is unfortunate, isn’t it?” I mutter, and Brodie elbows me.
“I need to go check on my parents,” Gryffin says stiffly before leaving us.
“Damn it, Liam. Let’s get through the next couple of weeks, and then we will sit down and talk to him. Maybe we can find a way to finally get him to give up this wild goose chase. Maybe the witch queen can help us when she arrives for the coronation, whether to confirm or deny the reading and help us track them,” Gem suggests and follows Gryffin.
A wave of guilt washes through me, and I feel awful. I hate picking fights with Gryffin, but I can’t seem to help it.
“Now that that’s over, let’s shift and go for a run. Maybe your bear will feel better after,” Brodie suggests, and I grasp the idea like it’s a lifeline.
“Yes, thank you,” I agree, and I don’t even wait to say goodbye to anyone. I make my way through the ballroom, ignoring people I know, with only one thing on my mind—shifting and running, hoping like hell it will even out my mood, or maybe our bond group will end up broken anyway.

32%

Ispend a good portion of my evening reading, especially because the bakery will be closed tomorrow due to the retirement celebration. I am not sad about a forced holiday, but I was still up early, and I can barely keep my eyes open by the time ten o’clock comes around. I am definitely not a night owl. I put a recipe card into the page I’m on and place it on my bedside table. Turning off all the lights in the house, I grab a glass of water and turn in. I lie in bed, thinking about what I might do tomorrow since I haven’t had a day off in a while. I think I’ll go visit my grandparents in the human zone. I’m almost positive they are not caught up in all the king and queen hype.
Happy with my decision, I close my eyes and feel my tired body relax, drifting off to sleep, but my sleep is not restful. I toss and turn, my dreams filled with snarling animals, jealous women, and magic. At one stage, I jolted awake, feeling pain in my wrists from being kidnapped and shackled by some unnamed assailant.
I’m breathing heavily, and I rub my wrists, trying to ease the discomfort. Holy crap, the pain from my dream traveled into real life! That was some very lucid dreaming. I glare at the book on my bedside table. I’m almost certain it’s responsible for the ridiculous thoughts in my head.
I get up and go to my bathroom cabinet, pulling out a bottle of sleeping pills I was prescribed when I first started my bakery and had trouble adjusting my circadian rhythm to the required hours. I pop two into my mouth before washing them down with the glass of water and climbing back into my bed. The rest of my night better be dream free.
The pills work, and I wake up feeling better than I had. Although the dreams were not as vivid, I remember a voice talking to me. It was muffled and unclear, and I guess not all that important if I can’t even remember what they were saying to me, but that’s the way of dreams. The only ones you do remember vividly are the ones that scare the crap out of you.
I push my hair back from my face and grimace. I definitely need to wash it today. I keep it tied back in a ponytail or a braid while at work, but I like to wear it down on my random days off, and greasy is not a good look.
Throwing the covers back, I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower, stripping off the tank top I wore to bed and sliding my panties down my legs. Both bits of cloth end up in the laundry basket. Stepping under the steaming stream, I close my eyes and tip my head back. I let the water run over my hair before reaching up and lifting it from my neck. My hair is thick, so if I just stand here, only the top gets wet. Once it’s drenched, I reach for the shampoo and lather it into my hair before rinsing it off and repeating with the conditioner. I let that sit for a while and wash my body using my loofah gloves, groaning at how good it feels to scrub my skin raw.
Seriously, there is nothing better than a good exfoliation. Finally, I rinse my hair and turn off the faucet. Stepping out, I wrap my hair in a towel before drying myself off. I reach out to drag a hand across the foggy mirror and freeze. What the fuck is around my wrist? I snatch my hand back and look down at the gold mark around it. It looks like someone grabbed my wrist too hard and squeezed. I hurry to my bedside table and get my reading glasses. I don’t wear them as much as I should, but last night, my eyes got tired, and the words started to blur. Putting them on, I study the mark on my wrist. Holy shit, it looks like faded, gold crescent shapes with a pretty scroll to link it together.
My stomach rolls, and I grab my bathroom sink for stability. No, this can’t be right. I lift my other hand to rub the marks and squeal when I notice it, too, has the same markings. My heart skips a beat as I realize where I have seen a tattoo like this before—not crescents, but phases of the moon. King Lucas has a similar tattoo down the side of his face. His is a lot more masculine than mine, and he doesn’t have pretty filigree linking the phases.
“No, no, no.” I think back to last night and try to remember what time I had that dream. Did I look at the clock? No, I didn’t pick up my phone. This can’t be what I think it is. I rub harder before picking up the soap and scrubbing the marks. They don’t budge. Tears stream down my face as I stare at the marks in horror. I can’t be marked as the next queen of the shifters.
I’m not cut out for it. I hate confrontation, and I’m not good with people. Those shifters are going to walk all over me. Nope, it’s not going to happen. I’m going to hide the marks, and they can keep looking. Nobody knows about the marks but me, and if I don’t tell anyone, no one is going to be any wiser. I bet if I make a trip to the witch kingdom, there would be a spell that would help me hide the marks. I need to apply for a travel pass immediately. It takes at least a week for it to be approved.
In shock, I dry off and get dressed. I could hide in my house all day, but I bet my mother is going to come find me to ask why I didn’t go to the party and tell me all the gossip from last night. If she sees the marks, she’s going to ask questions, and she has always been able to see through my lies. It took the fun out of being a teenager.
Where should I go? I don’t want to go to the bakery, I don’t want to be anywhere in the neutral zone today. People will be on the lookout for someone with unusual markings, but if I disappear completely, it will be suspicious. Maybe I’ll tell Olivia, Justin, and Violet that my grandmother is ill, and I have to go visit, then I can take a couple of extra days to come up with a solution. I can have them tattooed over in black, no one would question them then. The goddess’s marks are always golden.
Happy with my decision, I quickly pack a bag. When I look out the bedroom window, the day looks sunny and bright, so I pull a sundress out of my wardrobe and slide it on. I don’t often get to wear anything but leggings and shirts, so when I do get a chance to change it up, I grab it with both hands. I throw in my swimsuit as well, even though the water is bound to be cold, but maybe I can get a tan while I’m there. The sun isn’t going to be around much longer with winter closing in on us. Their place is in a seaside community near the port, and there are some nice beaches and coves. I’ll just treat it as a mini vacation and pretend the marks aren’t even there. I’m sure once the goddess realizes I’m not interested, she will remark someone else, or at least that’s what I desperately hope.
Glaring at the offending marks on my wrists, I dig through my extensive jewelry box. Today, I am super thankful that my mother is a designer and loves to buy me costume jewelry despite the fact that I never really wear it. There are all sorts of gorgeous items in my box, and I never had the heart to get rid of any of it.
I finally find the items I was thinking of—a set of jeweled cuffs that my mother gave me after one of her trips to the fae kingdom. They make unusual jewelry, and she told me that these were wedding cuffs that fae gift to their partners after the ceremony. I kind of scoffed at that, because who wants to have ownership cuffs, but she told me all partners wear them, and it’s considered a sign of complete devotion. Those who are married and refuse to wear them are believed to have a relationship that will fail. It’s a weird custom as far as I’m concerned, but they are freaking pretty. The cuffs are made from a shiny silver metal that has elaborate designs stamped into them, as well as embedded moonstone gems. The fae who sold them to her told her the moonstone was for protection and helped ease stress and anxiety. Holy crap, do I need it to work now.
I slip them on, and they cover the marks perfectly. Nobody will ever notice they are there, and I’m certainly not going to tell anyone.
I dry my hair using a blow-dryer and leave it hanging loose, then I grab my bag, my phone, and my keycard and hurry out of my building. I cross my fingers that my mother isn’t in our foyer as I leave. I’m sure she will still be in bed after last night, and that’s if she even made it home. I wouldn’t put it past her to have a wonderful affair with a dashing shifter she met at the party.
Public transport is running again and the only way out of the neutral zone for those of us who don’t have electric scooters. I hop on the bus at the stop closest to my apartment and take a seat. There is a smattering of humans on it, all of them looking slightly downcast after the big day of celebrations yesterday. I send Olivia, Justin, and Violet a message, letting them know I have a family emergency, and pray I don’t get struck down for lying.
All three send back replies of sympathy and assurance, and I feel even worse. I slump down in my seat in the back of the bus and tune into a particularly loud couple of girls.
“I thought for sure I would be selected as the next queen of the shifters.” She holds her arms out like she’s examining them and lifts her top to study her stomach. I snort under my breath at the sheer audacity. I can’t believe there are people who think like that. It’s fucking bold. “But I don’t have any new marks on my body this morning.”
The other girl looks out the window and sighs. “Do you really think it happens like they say it does, or is it just a marketing ploy to keep the humans in line? Like maybe they select who they want and tattoo them quickly to make it look like they are the chosen one.” The girl’s conspiracy theory is solid and something I used to wonder about. Unfortunately, the marks on my wrists suggest I was dead wrong.
“Surely if someone had been selected, it would be all over social media this morning.” The first girl holds up her phone. “But there’s nothing. I’ve been searching all platforms, and there isn’t even a whisper of someone being chosen.”
“Maybe they haven’t noticed yet or haven’t realized the significance?” The second girl turns back to look at her friend. “Or maybe it hasn’t happened yet, and we still have a chance.” They squeal and bounce up and down, and I turn my attention to the window, rolling my eyes.
Don’t hold your breath, I think and desperately wish I could transfer the marks from my wrists to one of theirs. I’m sure either of them would make a better queen than me because they actually want it.
The bus winds its way slowly through the neutral zone before passing into the human one and speeding up, merging into the traffic. Early Sunday morning traffic isn’t too bad, and it doesn’t take long before we arrive at the capital city. My grandparents live in a cozy little suburb on the far side of the city. Their suburb is beach side, and the sea marks the border of the kingdom of Aramis. Across the sea is the fae kingdom, and the only viable way to and from there is via boat, though trade and tourism between the two kingdoms is booming.
I stay on the bus as it makes its way through the city. It takes at least another hour, but I’m happy watching the human world go by—anything to distract me from my real problems.
When we arrive at the stop I need, I hop off, taking my overnight bag with me. It’s a short walk from the bus stop to my grandparents’ place. I smell the ocean the moment I get off the bus, and the wind whips briskly around my legs, making my dress flutter. I push down on the material as the bus pulls away and start the short walk to my destination. The sun is shining despite the wind, and I can hear the waves rolling onto the shore. I can’t see the ocean from here, since there is a row of houses blocking the view, but my grandparents can see it from their backyard and have a little path that leads down to the beach.