"The Silver scenario and the sacrifice you are on the way to make. Once turned, they will pressure you to find a mate. It took me years to settle on a male that was worthy enough of me. I can’t imagine doing it in the just a few months… Although, at least you will have the pick of the litter. Nearly any male would be willing to mate a Silver."
Rem’s muscles seized at the loaded question, not even thinking that far ahead. Or, at least, on the rare occasion that she would, she was unable to take any of it seriously with Oliver to consider. Would it really matter who her mate was if it preserved his life? Calculatedly, she said, “It is apparently outside of my control."
"A Luna always makes it within her control," his mother quipped.
"What wouldyoudo in my shoes?" Rem asked, unable to argue with that logic.
"I probably would have killed one of the Callons as soon as I saw them, for starters."
Rem perked up and mildly tilted her head, flabbergast. A curious smile formed on her face. "It actually crossed my mind, but I never got the chance."
His mother smirked, his sister's gaze darting between the two like she wanted to know what was being said.
His mother added, "To further my answer on what I'd do in your shoes, I'd eventually realize, once here for a time, that our life as shifters is much better than your villages and witches."
"I haven't gotten to see much of the shifters," Rem remarked.
Their bodies gently swayed to the side as they hit a bump in the road. She grimaced from all the aches and pains.
"You will, very shortly."
"Why?" Rem asked. She couldn’t deny the curiosity in such a concept.
His mother took in a deep breath, while his sister continued to watch with alert eyes, as if trying to learn English in a single conversation. His mother straightened out her dress, the golden bracelets on her wrists gently clinking before looking back at Rem. "There is a lot to go over. Nia will mostly help you in that regard. I am tempted to give my own answers, but I think it's important that you make the revelations for yourself. Put frankly, I assume you will find this world more freeing than in Ashmire, but that's your journey, not mine. Although I look forward to watching the Silvers integrate into our world."
Rem took the time to collect her thoughts, Ronan’s sister glaring at Rem. His sister didn’t look hostile, but she carried an air of authority that Ronan also exuded; she clearly didn’t like to be left out in conversation.
Get on their good side. All of those close to Ronan.
"Thank you for sharing your wisdom," Rem said, not finding it hard to appeal to the good graces of his family. "I can see where Ronan gets it from."
"It's genetic. Skipped my brother, though. That's why the Earth has reclaimed him," his mother stated.
Rem smiled at the metal flooring, finding his mother’s tenacity engaging. She tried to connect the dots of the relationships, remembering that the former Alpha was Ronan's uncle.
"If your brother was the Alpha, then how is Ronan the Alpha now? For humans, we take our father's name, and the son or daughter takes their place when they’re gone.”
"We will often follow the same practice, but in cases of important Clans, the Clan name is always passed down, no matter who is the male or female. I was the Warden, so my children got the name. It helps promote an even ascension to the throne, should it be vacant."
"So, the throne usually gets passed down?"
"In a way. Usually, it is clear who would make the best leader, as our instincts demand only the strongest. Sometimes, thrones are challenged, and anyone is always welcome to try to take it."
Rem had many more questions but realized she never got her name. "By the way, what's your name?"
"Freya. And my daughter here is Suna."
Freya and Suna. Rem leaned back into her seat. "I like that."
Freya smiled, and like Ronan's, it enhanced her features with the way it reached her eyes.
Rem wanted to ask more questions, but his sister spoke up. Her tone was a mixture of curiosity and sternness. “Hvað ertu að ræða um tvo?"
Rem noted that Suna’s braided hair was darker than Ronan's, her right arm covered in tattoos like their mother, whereas the Alpha’s tattoos lined his shoulders.
"Daglegt samtal," Freya said with a soft raise of her brows.
His sister sharply replied in their native tongue. The elegance of the mother was absent in the daughter.
