A Fate Foretold (formerly: A World Gone Mad)

A Fate Foretold 3

      In the morning, Ally met George Sullivan on the tarmac of a private airfield. The Sullivan pack obviously was doing very well for itself. The plane ride was smooth, as the alpha sat across from his son’s new nat amatra, reading reports and briefs for most of the flight. They were the only two passengers. Ally stared out of the window, thinking of where a tail could possibly be hiding, if there was one still following her. The private plane was a nice twist; that would throw anyone for a loop.

      “I will give you a piece of advice,” Sullivan declared, after observing the young woman look steadily out of the window for ten minutes. She was quite beautiful, and the light streaming through the window onto her face made her look almost disquietingly serene. “Do not fall in love with Christian. It is a lesson from the nat amatras of olden days. It would only aggravate relations between you and Kate and Christian and Kate.”

      Ally was startled out of her thoughts and almost showed her surprise to George Sullivan’s statement. But her face retained nothing more than mild interest as she politely replied, “Thank you, sir, but I believe I’ll be more than capable of avoiding that particular pitfall.”

      The older man’s trivial gesture of resignation gave away his disbelief at her confident answer. But the idea truly was absurd. She was here to bide her time until she could return to Geneva, return to her birthright. Not only did she have no intention of falling in love with the boy, but she was currently still mending a broken heart. No one would have thought it, to look at her, but even-tempered and calculating as she was, she was not a cold, emotionless automaton. She cared deeply, she could love passionately, and she could be painfully wounded.

      In Ally’s most serene moments, she didn’t even blame Philippe. He believed he was doing the right thing. But usually she was still indignant, hurt, and angry that her lover had decided to side with her stepmother. When she was feeling charitable, she conceded that Philippe truly didn’t think Lydia would be quite so malicious. Other times she couldn’t believe the man’s naiveté. Despite different interpretations, at the end of the day he had chosen to give Lydia the benefit of the doubt and further his military career. And left Ally alone, without his love or political support. Lydia had systematically tried to isolate her from her friends and supporters, and failing that, had simply wanted to inflict harm by turning certain people against her. It wasn’t Philippe’s fault for believing in the good in people, even Ally’s stepmother. It might be construed as his fault for being a weak, spineless, pathetic excuse for a man.

      No, she wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love again. She had been hurt too badly, too recently, and there was too much at stake here. There was a prize at the end of this gauntlet, and she wasn’t going to take her eyes off of it. Not to say that she might not be distracted – she would probably be hiding out for quite a while. But she had given up too much to throw this away on romance; and if she wasn’t willing to compromise on that, she’d only end up hurting those around her.

       The plane landed, and Ally was surprised to see that she and the alpha were going to be riding in a Jeep, alone. As he hauled his tall frame behind the wheel, George Sullivan explained, “We’re driving to meet Christian. He’s up in the cabin in the mountains, and I’d rather not expose you to more people than absolutely necessary. This way you’ll go directly from my hands to Christian’s and no one will see you before you get to Alaska.”

      Ally nodded in approval of his thinking. He was unwittingly carrying out this plan perfectly to her advantage.

      The hour’s drive was spent mostly in silence. Ally didn’t have much to say to the alpha, not while considering how to go about getting acquainted with his son. Sullivan left her to her thoughts, until they turned off the paved road onto a winding dirt road, lined with enormous oak trees that filtered the sunlight through the canopy of their leaves.

      “My son has been informed of our arrival,” he began. “But you see that the nat amatra idea was implemented extremely quickly. In theory, everyone agreed, including Kate Hawkins and her family. But it has been less than forty-eight hours since we’ve known we had a legitimate candidate, and even less since you accepted. Christian is a good man, and good leader, but he can be temperamental at first.”

      Sounds quite like his father, Ally thought. From what she had observed of Alpha Sullivan, he seemed the type to easily get into a rage when things didn’t go his way. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” came Ally’s calm response.

      Her collected serenity would do everyone good, Sullivan mused. It was the best character trait he could have hoped for, considering the tricky situation.

      “How old is your son?” Ally suddenly asked.

      “Twenty two. How old are you?” he countered.

      “Eighteen,” she lied smoothly. Nat amatras were preferably young, so as to be able to bear more children. But in this more modern time, Ally hoped her lie would buy her some extra time before getting pregnant.

       The Jeep turned a sharp corner and came to a halt in front of a good-sized, two-storied wooden cabin. Aside from a patch of grass between the dirt road and the house, the rest of the surroundings were left to the wild nature of towering trees and jagged rocks.

      George Sullivan wasted no time in jumping out of the car and striding quickly to the front door, Ally keeping pace behind him after retrieving her small bag of possessions. He opened the door without knocking and strode into the living room.

      “Christian! We’re here!” he bellowed.

      “I’m coming, I’m coming,” they heard a baritone voice coming down the stairs. When he became visible, Christian Sullivan proved to be a tall, well-built man, with short light brown hair and detailed features, including a strong jaw. He was good-looking, in a run-of-the-mill, commonplace way. 

      Father and son gripped each other’s hands in greeting, before Sullivan gestured towards Ally, introducing her as, “This is Ally. She will be your nat amatra. Ally, this is my son, the future alpha of the Sullivan pack, Christian.”

      Ally held out her hand for Christian to shake, but her cool confidence made Christian feel even more awkward as he held her hand in his, and he quickly dropped it.

      “You’ve both been briefed on the relationship between an alpha and a nat amatra,” Sullivan was talking over their handshake. “Should you have any questions about etiquette or technical matters, Nancy will be able to answer them in Alaska. During the week before you go up there, try to get acquainted with one another. It will be more difficult up north, with the pack around you.”

      Both Christian and Ally made noises of agreement. “And I shall see you in two months for the wedding! Son, we’ll speak when you return north. Ally, I wish you luck.” And suddenly George Sullivan was bidding them goodbye and bustling out the door.

      The pair stood still in the living room, the sound of the Jeep’s engine starting outside distinct in the silence. The sound of the car veering around the corner and tearing down the road faded from their ears and left an uncomfortable stillness.