Page 58 of Truth or Lie

I tried not to picture what the newspaper headlines would look like if my alpha bodyguards injured innocent Members of Parliament by dropping terrorists on them from a second-story balcony.

“How about we try to follow Jax’s plan of avoiding drama altogether,” I said.

A limousine took us to Parliament Square from the Embassy District. The massive Parliament Building was a towering five-story ode to Gothic Revivalist architecture, all stone arches and slender spires, built near the banks of the St. Lawrence River in Old Montreal. We passed through the various layers of security, emerging into the echoing space of the rotunda. Stone and stained glass stretched above us.

The foyer to the House of Commons marked a transition from the churchlike atmosphere of the building’s public spaces to the darker, wood-paneled room where the legislature met to carry out the federation’s business. It was still a huge room, overlooked by five galleries to accommodate visitors of various ranks and provenance. In here, however, attention was focused downward toward the parliamentary floor, rather than upward and outward toward the marvels of the surrounding architecture.

The chamber smelled of rich leather, dusty paper, and age. It contained all the trappings of ceremonial power—including a red, throne-like chair at one end, where the Governor General would receive Parliament’s petition. The sergeant-at-arms directed us to our seats in the front row of the Speaker’s Gallery, where we sat, looking down at the spectacle.

The business of the North American government was steeped in tradition, and aspects of it seemed faintly ridiculous to the outside eye. Even in this day and age, there were a lot of robes involved, a lot of rather silly hats, and an awful lot of formal bowing. Every formal communication on the parliamentary floor was repeated in English, French, and Spanish, making things take three times longer than would otherwise be the case.

We watched, sitting through the endless introductions of various officials and clarification of points of order, until finally, a representative of the House of Commons approached the Governor General on her red velvet chair, holding an impressively thick stack of bound paper in front of him like an offering.

He bowed respectfully. “May it please Your Excellency, the Senate and the House of Commons have passed the following bills, to which they humbly request Your Excellency’s assent. First, a bill to grant full citizenship and rights to all alphomic individuals within the borders of the United Federation of North America.”

The Governor General gave a solemn nod.

“Second, a bill outlawing the practice of slavery, and granting monetary compensation to all individuals held in slavery for their time, labor, and any physical or psychological harm that may have been visited upon them in the course of their subjugation.”

Murmurs broke out among the onlookers, only to subside beneath stern looks from the sergeants-at-arms.

“Third, a bill outlawing the involuntary sterilization of any individual, either by chemical or surgical means.”

Kam shifted in his seat next to me.

“And finally, a bill lifting all restrictions on the manufacture and sale of drugs and medical devices intended for the treatment of alphomic individuals under a doctor’s supervision.”

His hand brushed mine and I grabbed it, intertwining our fingers and squeezing hard.

The Governor General nodded again and spoke solemnly, the words too soft to carry to the galleries. I held my breath.

Her spokesperson repeated the words for the onlookers’ benefit. “Her Excellency the Governor General thanks the parliamentary representatives, accepts their generous benevolence, and assents to these bills. The Alphomic Civil Rights Act is now the law of the land in North America.”

My breath whooshed out of my lungs, leaving me lightheaded as the spokesperson repeated the words in French, and finally Spanish. Around us, tentative applause started up, more and more people joining in despite the fact that it was utterly against protocol inside the House chamber. The five of us clapped as loudly as anyone else. Kam rose to his feet, and so did I—the people around us following suit until a thunderous standing ovation rattled the room’s ancient timbers.

* * *

Hours later, we layin a naked tangle on the fur rug in front of the living room fireplace in our temporary quarters. My hair was sweaty from exertion. I suspected I had a serious case of raccoon eyes as a result of smeared mascara, and I was definitely going to be sore in some very interesting places tomorrow.

In other words, bliss.

“Can we talk about permanent living arrangements?” Kam asked. He was lying crosswise with his head in my lap and his legs thrown over Alex’s hips, staring up at the ceiling in the orange, flickering light of the gas flame.

“Did you have something specific in mind?” Jax replied, the breath from his words tickling the side of my neck.

Kam’s dark eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. “I did, yes. When the reparation payments come through, it’s going to mean a fairly significant lump sum for the pack. Leo and I will also be putting lawsuits in motion to recover our confiscated assets, and neither of us were exactly poor before all of this started.”

“You thinking you might want us to buy a place of our own?” Flynn asked. “Because I kinda like that idea.”

“I was thinking of a very specific place, actually.” Kam rolled his head, his dark eyes meeting mine. “What would you say to purchasing the safehouse in upstate New York? The one in the woods.”

I mulled that over, not having considered the possibility before now.

“We broke all the windows and singed a bunch of the forest around it with Molotov cocktails,” Jax pointed out. “After what happened to us there, I’m surprised the place doesn’t hold bad associations for the two of you.”

“No,” I said slowly. “I mean—yes, those thingsdidhappen, and they were terrifying. But to me, that house will always be the place where I spent my first heat surrounded by people who I knew cared for me.” I paused, and then added, “I really miss that nest.”

“Sex furniture,” Kam offered sagely.

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