Chapter Thirty-Three

Some of this has religious talk and there are some things that Marquise says that you may not agree with. If you so wish to add your opinion on my fictional characters, be respectful in the comments and remember that this is not an attack on anyone's faith or beliefs, therefore, you should not attack anyone's faith or beliefs ❤️

I'm also really bad at keeping up with Marquise's accent...I kind of gave up lmao, just read it in the best French accent you can.

Kian

Marquise sits in the living room, eating a salad he pulled out of thin air. He watches me pace around, sometimes twisting his green ring as if my stress is transferring to him.

"Am I stressing you?" I ask, stopping in front of the table across from where he sits. He's changed into something more comfortable: a white T-shirt tucked into loose white pants that stop above his ankles with white shoes. He still has all of his gold jewelry. I don't even remember when he changed. Or why he has to wear all white? Is that an angel thing?

It's later now, almost six and I haven't started on dinner though I told Jenna that I would cook tonight. I asked Corzo if I could get a day off from training so I could wrap my head around everything. I haven't done anything other than stress myself out more as I talk myself in and out of texting Bridger. My logical brain earlier was once again overpowered by my anxiety and possessiveness over my pup. I just don't want people to know because the more people that know, the more I feel they will try to take my pup away. It makes me so, so scared. My brain gets fuzzy and I can't see anything past the anger and hurt and the only way I can tame my aching mind is by promising myself that this time will be different; because it will, I will make sure of it.

"Me?" Marquise smiles and shakes his head, "No, I'm okay. I just feel bad for dropping all of this on you when you're clearly going through something right now."

Corzo has taught me how to read body language. He said once I learn the basics, it'll come natural to me as I learn to read the room as well as the people in it. Every time Marquise seems to get nervous, he starts twisting his green ring as opposed to the other golden rings that decorate his fingers or the jewelry hanging on his ears and around his neck.

"Why do you twist your ring then?" I ask.

"Oh," he laughs, placing his salad on the table. "It's a nervous tic but it's nothing about what you're doing. I'm just an awkward guy, really."

He really is kind of awkward.

"Why is it the green one?"

"It's the ring I got when I became a noble. Well– I mean, I'm not part of the Gold Court yet, but I am a noble. I became a noble last year, got the ring then too. The green – Castleton – represents my Cause: Greater Good. That's why I was given your case. You're working for the greater good of your species. Look..." he lifts his ring to me and I quickly walk over to look at it. The ring isn't only green but it also has a symbol inside. It's a circle with white wisps going around it. It's moving very slowly.

"Wow..." I whisper, "That's so cool, Marquise. Why is it moving?"

"It is a representation of society," he explains, "as long as everything is intact, the Nobles of my Cause are doing their job."

I nod slowly.

Even with his explanation, I still don't really understand what nobles do or where they stand in regards to the "angel hierarchy". He told me that he's a noble for the Silver Court, but also implied that nobles are part of the Gold Court when he said that he's not yet part of that court. He works for the greater good and I guess he means he works for the greater good of everything. But what exactly does he do? How does he do it?

"How do you work for the greater good?" I ask, taking a seat in the chair next to him. He scoots up on the couch and leans on his knees, his smile still steady. He smiles a lot, I notice. But it's not creepy or unsettling. He genuinely radiates happiness and I hope to get his level of happiness so that I can smile every day and every second. Are all angels this happy?

"Well, I take on cases like yours and then annoy people until someone with higher powers can give me their blessing – it's a bit of an odd process since no matter how high up the line you are, you're always seeking permission from someone else. Anyway, I get a blessing and then I get to support your case fully. Usually, we don't even have to meet and things have already gone underway. In your unique case, however, the Lords just happened to be interested in you."

It seems like everything he says only makes me want to ask more questions. Despite how awkward he is, he seems to be a welcoming person and I don't think he'd get annoyed with me for asking questions, but I also don't want to ask too many questions. I know for certain that if someone just constantly kept asking me questions, I would eventually get tired of them and that's the last thing I want to happen to the angel who is apparently in charge of helping me. Still, I want to understand more about what I'm getting myself into, but not only that, I want to understand who I'll be working with as well.

"Tell me about the gods...do you worship them?"

Marquise shakes his head, holding his hand up. He pauses as he thinks of what to say.

"So, basically, they're these really ancient people created by...well, we really don't know. But they created Sephael – an angelic society. They depicted themselves as gods and goddesses, but they are more so...demigods by definition," he explains, squinting, "does that make sense? They don't have a creation story like many others. Like how your goddess – the Moon Goddess – has a creation story: She was lonely, sad that her sister left her so She befriended the wolves. You know? That's Her origin story – well...that's the widely accepted one – then the elves have Her sister, Ayona who birthed the rest of their minor deities whom they worship," he waves his hand, "Anyway, I'm getting off track. What I mean is, the Lords have no origin story, they are just there and they are the ones who give powers to all the angels and try to keep everything in check. As for the rest of us, we're actually majority atheistic, some of us have found meaning in some religions but for reasons that are too complicated to explain, most of us choose to not worship anyone."

Oh no, I'm even more confused.

"I never heard the story of our goddess," I confess, "and...it's okay that I also don't worship her...right?"

His smile softens as he places his hand on my knee. His touch is nice, and I don't find myself flinching away like how I would expect. "Of course, no true god or goddess would be threatened by an act of defiance by its creations. It is up to you where your spirituality lies, be it in a deity, nature, or yourself."

That releases yet another weight from my shoulders. Bridger has constantly told me how kind and forgiving our goddess is, but he has never told me that it was okay that I simply didn't want to worship her. I don't really care how forgiving she is as much as I care about all the stuff she's allowed to happen to me. It may not be totally her fault, but if she's abandoned us, then I still blame her. She took Syrus away from me and left me alone. I don't think I could ever worship someone who did me so wrong. I just think Bridger loves his goddess so much that he thinks at some point, I will too.

"I know you have bitterness towards your goddess in your heart," Marquise says, "and while faith isn't my Cause or something that I'm really knowledgeable on, I can guarantee you that it is completely okay to not worship any deity. You do not even have to believe in their existence. If a deity created you and gave you free will, you are allowed to use that free will as you wish which includes leaving a belief."

I nod, suddenly feeling a lump in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but the overwhelming urge to cry in front of this man hits me strongly. I stare at him and he stares back at me, his eyebrows furrowing as I fight to keep myself together. He's just a very soft talker and his face is just really kind and–

"I'm sorry," I say as I gasp and quickly wipe my eyes, "I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Marquise says gently, "this topic can make people emotional."

I try to laugh but it comes out broken. I sit back and take a shuddering breath as I try to redirect my thoughts. I don't even know why I almost sobbed in front of Marquise. I just felt like I was expected to worship goddess at some point and him telling me that I didn't have to not only got rid of a weight I never noticed but also brought forth feelings that I've never addressed until now. Sure I've talked about it with Dr. Edkard and he told me it's okay but I always felt like I was apologizing to him. He believes that I'm just angry with goddess, not that she herself did anything wrong. It's hard to talk to people who don't quite understand what's going on in your brain even if they're trained to.

"Y-You came here to help and I...I screamed at you and tried to attack you and now I'm crying," I laugh as I wipe my eyes, "I'm sorry."

"All is well," Marquise laughs, "It is welcoming. I still apologize deeply for scaring you. That was inappropriate of me. But I am glad that I got to meet you in the flesh rather than on a piece of paper."

I take a deep breath to get myself together. I'm still embarrassed but I've managed to calm myself down. Marquise is probably the nicest person I've met besides Bridger and I can't wait to tell Bridger about him tonight. I'm sure Bridger would like him too.

"Will you be staying here tonight?" I ask.

"Oh...I could not impose more than I already have," I watch his fingers go to twist his ring before he stops himself and rubs the back of his neck, an awkward smile replacing his easy one.

"It's fine. You can get to know everyone else!" I say as I stand from the chair, "I need to get started on dinner. I can...I don't think I have many vegan things..."

"I can just finish my salad–"

"Jenna made bread! Isn't bread vegan?"

"Depends, but I can eat my salad–"

"I also have a lot of fruit and vegetables, I'll throw something together for you!" I clap my hands and gesture for him to follow me to the kitchen. I know he said he wanted to eat his salad but he was already eating that and I wouldn't be a good host if I let him eat salad after salad after salad.

Marquise follows me into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island while I start pulling stuff out. The embarrassment from almost crying in front of him still nags at me and makes me feel stiff but I don't think he can tell. If he can, he's just ignoring it which I'm grateful for.

"Have you decided any names for your baby?" he suddenly asks, taking me off guard as I separate the ground beef.

Without looking at him, I hum with a shrug. "No, I–...I haven't told Bridger yet. I don't want to do any of that without him in the process. I'm really nervous about all of this...I never raised a child before."

I got to take care of Ivory from early infancy to when she was a little past one, but even then I didn't get to do a lot of the normal things a parent would do. I changed her because Jason didn't like changing diapers. I got the privilege to feed her with a bottle once or twice but Jason stopped that because he thought I would "confuse" her into bonding with me.

The thing is, I think she did bond with me during that short year. She knew I was her father even after I left. She would stare at me and reach for me when she saw me in public when Jason's mate held her, she'd cry, she'd call for me. It was painful seeing her like that. I preferred when she began to forget me as she was no longer scared and confused by my forced abandonment. Now, she likely doesn't remember me at all.

"Parenting isn't easy," Marquise says, "it's why I decided to never have children. I'm sure you and Bridger will figure it out though."

"Can I see Ivory and Avery's files?" I ask. The question is kind of random and I hope he doesn't find me weird. I'm not sure how he views me in terms of mine and the girls' relationship.

"Of course, they're your children despite the circumstances." He says it with a shrug as if his words didn't affect me. Like earlier, he pulls two files out of thin air and hands them to me.

While the meat sizzles in the pan, I sit in front of Marquise and flip open the first file. Avery's picture sits inside the file, basically embedded into the white paper. Her file states the stuff that I already know: six, blonde hair, brown eyes, Alpha, African American, Brazilian. It even has a timestamp of when she took her first steps, said her first word, grew in her canines – stuff that a normal parent would never want to miss.

As I read through Ivory's next, I notice that my body doesn't react the way it used to when I thought about the girls. I guess I just haven't had time to think about them so now...it's almost like reading the files of someone else's pup. Which is basically what I'm doing. Marquise may see them as still technically my daughters, but I only birthed them.

Like Peyton, I now no longer feel connected to them the way I used to.

I had Marquise the files back. "Thanks, I'm glad that they're doing well."

I have moved on to better things, as terrible as that sounds. I'm pregnant with a pup who I will get to spend time with and memorize all of the milestones. Maybe it's okay for me to let them go until they're nothing but a distant memory. They're not omegas so they're being well taken care of, especially Avery as an alpha. For them, I have nothing to worry about. They are not my children, after all. When my pup is born, I can't afford to split my attention with two other pups I barely know.

I am moving on to better things and slowly, but surely, I'm healing one wound at a time.

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Word Count: 2583