Chapter 13 — Ethan
Tonight is the special feast for the Elder Shaman and his children, and I am more than a little nervous.
Typically, I do fine at big social gatherings, but this one is a little more high-pressure than I’m accustomed to.
Important people will be looking to me, an outsider of another species, for my analysis of their attempt to end a generations-long feud. Crazy.
After yesterday’s reception, Thea said that the Shaman came across as friendly and assured me everything would be fine if I just be myself. But here, being myself is the one thing that keeps getting me into trouble.
I’m still miffed about what Rhiannon said about us. Or the lack of an “us.” It only makes it worse that I know she’s right. If the Alpha King decides I’m not worth keeping around after the summit, then it’s game over for me. How can I expect her to get attached knowing my days might be numbered?
Not to mention, I didn’t do myself any favors by distracting her this morning. I’m almost certain that’s why Jayme got the drop on her.
I often take my shirt off during training. I thought nothing of it until Conan said, “You’re itching to break every law in Clarion, aren’t you?”
“What?” Shit. That’s when I remembered the souvenirs Rhiannon left on my back last night.
“Who’s the lucky wolf?” he joked.
“I wish there was one.” I kept my voice easy, unbothered. “I fell into one of those fucking thorny bush things in the garden yesterday.”
The opportunity to see if Conan bought it never came, because a second later, Rhiannon was lying in the dust with Jayme standing over her.
I should have been more careful. It’s probably better for everyone if I focus solely on my mission from now on, especially as I head into tonight’s feast. I’m supposed to be the one observing behavior, not causing suspicion.
The Great Hall’s massive stone fireplace illuminates the walls, where ancient pack symbols hang on dark wood panels. Ceremonial daggers and polished silver goblets catch the light from iron chandeliers looming overhead, dripping wax from dozens of candles onto the stone floor.
Alpha Xander sits at the head of the table with Thea and Lady Gemma on either side of him.
Stationed around the rest of the long table are Elder Stasio, the lightbulb twins, Rhiannon, members of the Pack Council (whose faces I still struggle to put names to) and all their mates, plus Akila, Conan, Branson, and Jayme, as well as me.
The clinking of silverware against fancy gilded plates punctuates the hushed conversations around us.
Dinner truly is a feast, even more so than usual for the special occasion.
Steaming platters line the long oak table.
Roasted venison glistens with herb butter and strange forest plants I don’t recognize.
The earthy aroma of wild mushrooms, sage, and rosemary mingles with the rich scent of meat, filling the hall.
I note a lot more vegetation than usual, which is no doubt a special request from our guests.
Right now, the conversation is formal. Both Xander and Stasio seem relaxed as they exchange light banter about Lycan and Shaman life.
I was nervous about my role as the official Human Lie Detector, but I find that watching Stasio is a lot like watching paint dry.
It’s not just his stiffness that’s boring, but how easy he is to read.
His fingers tap the same rhythm repeatedly on the table, and I resist the urge to turn it into a rap song just to entertain myself.
Though there does seem to be one inevitable question on his mind that keeps me on edge. He consistently throws glances my way from across the table. It’s only a matter of time before he inquires about me. I’ll bet money he’s already talked about me with his children.
“So,” Stasio says after Thea finishes sharing a short anecdote about her pregnancy, “Tell me more about your assistant. Ethan, is it?”
Thea stiffens, but shows no other sign of discomfort. “I’m not sure what there is for me to tell, but feel free to ask your questions of him directly. He can speak.”
Yikes. There’s the girl I know. Xander shoots her a subtle warning look. “I’m sure they realize that,” he quips lightly.
“It’s fine,” Stasio says with the first smile I’ve seen on him all evening.
“Forgive me, Luna Thea. I meant no disrespect. I only asked you because there was no way for me to know, for certain, what his faculties may be. I can see he is not Lycan, nor does he seem to be anything else that I’ve ever encountered.
To know if he is capable of speech when he has said nothing thus far .
. . I simply find him to be . . . curious. ”
I’d like to be insulted by that. I mean, it certainly sounds like he meant to insult me, but he does have a point. I haven’t said one word in front of them since they got here. I clear my throat. “Curious. That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“And yet it is appropriate.” Stasio’s face softens into a slightly broader smile. “You inhabit the form of man, yet you do not radiate an aura of Lycan or Fae, nor even Witch or Shaman.”
Holden leans back in his chair. “Sister thinks you are Phoenix.” He sounds bored, but I believe that’s just the natural cadence of his voice.
What the fuck makes her think I’m a phoenix?
Haron’s bronzed face flushes pink. “I only said that you could be Phoenix,” she says, her voice high like a silver bell. “The only one we know of is the Alpha King’s Luna, and we’ve only heard stories of her. We haven’t had the opportunity to be in her presence, you see.”
“And so,” Stasio says. “We are curious. Perhaps you can enlighten us.”
Welp. It was a question that was bound to be asked, I guess. I look over at Xander, who gives me an approving nod. “I’m human. From the Outer Lands.”
Stasio’s smile drops, Holden nearly chokes on his wine, and Haron covers her mouth in shock.
“A . . . human?” Stasio’s nearly black eyes darken even more.
“He is here with the Alpha King’s permission,” Xander says. “He and Luna Thea were previously acquainted, as she is originally from the Outer Lands herself. When he came to us, she insisted that he stay, and so I saw to it that he could.”
“How... accommodating.” Holden pitches his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Our traditions teach that humans lack the capacity to truly understand our ways. Isn’t that why they stay in the Outer Lands?”
One of the older Council members nods in agreement. “Indeed. The ancient texts speak of humans’ fragile minds that would break under the burdens of our world. It is a kindness to shield them from what they cannot comprehend.”
I catch Rhiannon’s eyes across the table.
She heard it too — the not-so-thinly veiled insult wrapped in benevolent concern.
Her expression remains perfectly neutral, however, without a flicker of defensiveness or disagreement crossing her features.
Somehow, her easy silence stings more than their words, but I guess I can’t expect her to speak up for me during such an important — and tense — meeting.
I force my expression to remain pleasant.
Holden’s head turns toward Xander. “So, you allowed a human to stay just because your mate told you to?”
“Luna Thea is mine,” Xander says. His voice is free of malice and offense, but I can see the muscles in his jaw tighten.
“But I am hers as well. I am honor-bound to provide her with whatever she may need, and the same goes for her. My Luna was lonely, being so far from everything and everyone she knew. His presence gives her peace of mind. Anyone should want that for their mate.”
Stasio throws Holden a hard look, which makes him shrink back. Then, he reaches leisurely for his wine glass to take a drink. “Don’t be rude, Holden. Their ways are not ours.”
“But you are not just human,” Haron says to me as her brother sulks next to her. “Surely you are a distant hybrid of some sort. Have you a great-grandmother with Witch’s blood, perhaps?”
She leans in toward me, her big brown eyes sparkling as she twirls a tendril of white hair in one elegantly long finger. I’m mildly alarmed by her interest in me, but I’m not in any position to be rude.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I say. “My mother died in my teens, and she was as ordinary a human as could be. My father...” I pause, offering a wry smile. “Well, I’m pretty sure he was human, but considering what a huge jerk he was, he might’ve been part devil. The jury’s still out on that one.”
“You poor thing!” Haron leans in a little more, her face full of manufactured concern. “I would love to hear about your life before you came here,” she says, batting her eyelashes way more than necessary. “Perhaps after dinner, we can walk around the garden and talk more?”
Oh, God. This is the last thing I need right now. “Oh, well, maybe,” I stammer. “If I don’t have other duties or anything.”
I glance over at Thea and Xander for help, but neither of them seems very interested in stopping this. Thea actually nudges me encouragingly under the table. Hell, it’d probably be great for the summit if I wooed the Elder’s daughter.
From across the table, Rhiannon says, “If you would like to see the garden, Haron, you should be under some protection. Might I suggest one of my guards accompany you instead?”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Stasio says. I notice his pleasant expression is tinted with anger in his eyes. Not a fan of a human hanging around his daughter. Got it.
“I second that,” Holden says, taking her hand. He glances down the table toward Branson and Jayme and, as if prompted, Jayme speaks up.
“I’d be happy to escort you, Haron.”
Haron looks at her brother, and I see it again. That weird silent conversation happening between them as their eyes dart back and forth. It’s quick, this exchange. Only a second or two. She smiles back at me and says, “Perhaps another time, then.”
“Sure.”
“My Lord,” Rhiannon says. “May I be excused?”
“Of course,” Xander says.
She hides it well, but as she gets up, Rhiannon scowls before turning to walk away.
Now that dinner is over, I need to find her.
The way she left has my stomach in knots.
This overwhelming urge to make sure Rhiannon’s all right has me scouring every corridor.
My search doesn’t take long. I find her standing by the front gates, looking out between the bars longingly.
I only take a few steps toward her before she starts and looks up.
The moment she sees me, her entire body relaxes.
“I just needed some air,” she says. “You didn’t have to come find me.”
“I know, but I wanted to. It’s not a crime to see if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she says, but everything about her is telling me the opposite.
“Listen,” I say. “For the record, I’m not interested in Haron. At all. I was just being polite because God forbid I piss off the sentient lamp posts.”
She smiles and turns away from me in an effort to hide it. “You might be better off if you were interested. She seems nice. She’s certainly very pretty.”
“Her father would prefer my human head on a platter,” I say. “More importantly, she’s not you.”
Rhiannon sighs like a weight is bearing down on her. “Ethan, I told you—”
“And I heard you. I still care about you, though, so . . . you’re just going to have to give me a minute.”
She gives me a look, and her eyes glimmer in the moonlight as they move over my face. “Does this mean that every time you see me in distress, you’ll come running?”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Is that also punishable by death in some packs?”
She turns away again, hiding another smile. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you for checking on me, Ethan.”
After a nod, I start to walk away to give her space. I don’t get far before the alarms start ringing.
Rhiannon begins running toward the sound. “It’s coming from the garden!” She breaks into a full sprint.
As soon as we get to the garden, the first thing I see is Haron lying unconscious on the brick path, her face now marred with violent streaks of crimson.
Her gauzy silver dress is soaked through with dark patches of wet blood and hanging in tatters from her body, shredded by what looks like large claws.
“My God. She’s been attacked.”
“We need to get her to Olcan!”