Nodding, Rolan squeezed her hand in his. “He’s here only to see that his family is decently buried. The elders’ constant scrabble for power among the tribes is tiresome to him. To all of us.” Lifting their clasped hands, Rolan kissed Lydia’s fingers. “Nick is right. We should rent a car in town and take off tomorrow, just the two of us.”
“Shifter Frontiers is a full-service resort. For our guests’ convenience, we keep several Jeeps fueled and stocked with tour maps for sightseeing excursions. Using one of our fleet will allow you to bypass the attention of media staking out rental shops in the valley, and I guarantee the small nominal fee added to your final bill for a Jeep is less expensive than typical rates in town.” Before Nick could blink, Arit dropped to the floor next to him. “I recommend the northern route through the Urals. Jeeps can handle snow from last night’s storm at the higher elevations, and the views from the peaks can’t be bested.”
“North seems…like a productive use of our day.” One corner of Rolan’s mouth curved. “If we decide to find an inn?”
“Call to let us know we shouldn’t expect you,” Arit replied, lifting his raised palms. “We’ll activate GPS to find guests who are missing in the event of emergency. Storms can appear suddenly. As a precaution, our Jeeps have been equipped with trackers satellites pick up more readily than cell phone signals, coverage of which is notoriously poor in the outer territories and the Urals particularly. Unless you’re lost, we won’t invade your privacy, though. Guests are free to drive up the entire mountain range if they wish.”
“Sounds great.” When Rolan glanced at Nick, his brows disappeared behind the heavy drape of his hair. “We’d love to reserve a Jeep. Thank you.”
Nick smothered his sigh of relief. Rolan and Lydia would search for survivors from the war in his bloodline while Nick was stuck at the lodge, mired in infernal capitol politics, and if they managed to give the media the slip, they’d be safe. Mission accomplished.
“The Jeep will be parked at the front door, keys in the ignition, at dawn.” Arit lifted his chin at a staff member, who rushed away. “If you’d prefer a guide, the ticket seller at the train station will obtain one for you, but stopping in town would, of course, alert the media of your plans.”
Lydia snorted. “We don’t need a babysitter.”
“You’re set, then.” The good news was the tribes were so focused on Nick that Rolan and Lydia could search for survivors from the revolution in his bloodline without drawing unwelcome attention. “Go. Have fun. Hopefully we’ll have finished arranging the end of my brief reign before you return to the lodge and we can finally go home.”
“You are home.” Benjic glowered. “And some in the council aren’t certain abdicating the throne is strictly necessary.”
Next to him, Arit stiffened, his spine snapping straight.
Barely managing to stifle a laugh, Nick smiled at the elder. “Is that right?”
“The monarchy in the lands of men surrendered authority to directly rule after the war with the tribes.” Benjic lifted his chin. “Peacefully. They realized times had changed and their peoples were ready for a more modern form of governance. You are cousins with the queen, yes?”
Nick curled his lip. “Distant cousins.”
Benjic leaned toward Nick. “You’ve spoken to her?”
Nick shook his head. “We were strangers before the executions. She couldn’t confirm I am Nika.” He shrugged. “Waiting for this trip to play out was more politically expedient for the royal family.” He couldn’t blame them. After the rebellion, the monarchy in the lands of men managed to hang on by a thread. Benjic was right that they’d given up the bulk of their power to rule. They served as figureheads, a relic of the past for their people. While they still led as a moral compass to the nation and, technically, had held on to the right to confirm or reject the parliamentary representatives the people elected, they risked the few powers they’d retained after the war if they dared to interfere. “They’ll better know how to deal with a throne-less cousin they’d believed dead once the matter has been settled by the tribes and their parliament decides the best path in which to proceed.”
“You grasp then how retaining your title could be possible.” Benjic dropped down to perch on the arm of the sofa upon which Rolan and Lydia sat. “Some elders feel the tribes would benefit from an emperor such as yourself providing a positive example of what service to the tribes should be.”
“Because of the popular fiction of me as an everyman.” When Nick let his shoulders slump, Arit edged closer, the toe of his boot nudging Nick’s calf in silent support. While the maneuver heartened Nick—his promised mate encouraging him was a positive sign—he was less enamored by the fact their bond was so fragile Arit apparently couldn’t sense Nick’s dejection was a ruse. Nick would simply have to make the subterfuge up to Arit later. “I’m not who they think I am. I’m not who you and the other elders wish to believe, either.”
That much, at least, was true.
“Yes, yes. You aren’t an omega. That was a shock.” Benjic squared his shoulders. “You were refreshingly adept at controlling your beast in spite of the many winters you hid with the humans, though, not too traumatized to shift at all, and you haven’t forgotten how to hunt in a pack, either. Your skills in your wolf form can work to our benefit.” He gestured around the hall. “Arit’s adventure tour business succeeded because many in the tribes have lost touch with the wolf within in ways you never did, regardless of the hardships you faced.” The smile curving his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “We need that spirit revitalizing the tribes.”
Rolan, bless him, could always be counted upon. “You want to use him,” his brother said, voice dipping into a disgusted snarl. “As a PR stunt.”
“Not a stunt.” Benjic shook his head. “We’ve already enjoyed a splash of coverage from the media during the string of balls in the capitol that launched your visit home, and Nika carried those off fantastically. The peasantry loves him. His quiet and elegant dignity won over the political elites, too.” He frowned. “I won’t claim retaining your title would be easy. A few elders clinging to the tragedies and mistakes of the past want you gone from the tribes as soon as the memorials can be arranged, want nothing more than to close the imperial chapter of our history as rapidly as we can.” He stared at Nick. “They can be overruled. If those of us who believe you could make an exemplary spokesman to and for the tribes can be persuaded your loyalties are with our people.”
Next to Nick, Arit grunted. “You demand proof.”
“We do.” Benjic nodded decisively at his son.
Who blinked.
“What?” Arit stiffened as what his sire proposed sank in, his muscles bunching in fierce objection. “Oh no. Oh, hell no.” He growled in ripe disgust.