Chapter 44 Aerin
AERIN
After walking a few miles, Malice veers off the established trail. The new trail is barely marked, hardly downtrodden, but if Aerin looks closely, she can see the path marked by Wolf prints.
Eventually Malice says, “We are close,” breaking the silence that has lingered between them since Aerin dismissed him earlier. She spent the rest of the hike compartmentalizing. Stuffing her turmoil down into bite sized packages that can be hidden amongst all the other things she is ignoring.
Malice is right. She needs to focus. She needs to be at her best. Just because this Alpha agreed to meet with them, doesn’t mean they aren’t in danger. Doesn’t mean they’ll tell Aerin anything useful without some manipulation on her part.
Approaching a clearing, Aerin spots a small wooden cabin set back from the path, smoke gently rolls from its chimney.
The smell of spiced tea wafts from the open front door.
Just when Aerin wonders if this is the place, two Wolves make their presence known on the other side of the clearing.
Both are large, though smaller than Emrys in his Wolf form.
Brutes compared to the average size of a Southern Wolf.
They are both grey, though one has brown eyes, the other blue.
Malice steps slightly in front of Aerin, subtly blocking her from full view.
Aerin and Malice both still as a third Wolf, even larger than the first two, comes trotting into the clearing.
This Wolf is white with grey patches and piercing green eyes.
He seems to smile, and Malice relaxes the smallest amount.
In a blink, the trotting Wolf changes into a striding Fae.
The male, with his salt and pepper hair, green eyes, and bare body, grins at them.
“Malice, my old friend.” His smile is warm when he hugs the Dragon-Fae. To Aerin’s surprise, Malice grasps the male back.
“Soren, it’s good to see you.” Malice releases the Wolf. “Soren, I’d like you to meet Aerin Tolvare.” Aerin reaches out a hand and the Wolf shakes it with an easy smile.
“You’ll have to forgive my manners; I am rarely in this form,” Soren says, releasing her hand. “But please, come inside.” He gestures to the cabin. “I’m sure I’ll find some pants.” He flashes a wink at Aerin, and Malice bristles for only a second before laughing, actually laughing.
Aerin casts him an incredulous glance, but the Dragon-Fae only shrugs, following after the naked Wolf. Aerin glances to the other Wolves in the clearing.
As if Soren has eyes in the back of his head he says, “Don’t worry about my pack, Miss Tolvare, they will not harm you.” He strides through the open door. Malice side steps to allow Aerin to enter first before following her inside.
The cabin is cozy. A single room with a small bed pressed against one wall and a hearth with flickering flames on another.
The opposite side contains a quaint kitchen and dining area.
A kettle on the stove is near boiling and three tea-cups are set around the small wooden table, baked goods placed in the center.
“Please, have a seat,” Soren gestures to the table as he goes off, presumably to find some pants.
Malice motions for Aerin to take the seat closest to the wall and farthest from the door.
Malice sits in the position next to her, forcing Soren to take the seat across from Aerin.
Soren ties the drawstrings on a pair of sweatpants as he crosses the room.
He grabs the kettle and pours three cups before sitting down. He lounges back, cavalier.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Aerin says, adding sweetener to her tea and stirring it carefully.
“Of course. Malice tells me you are writing a research paper in your program at VCU?” Soren replies, and Aerin schools her features, rolling with it.
“Yes, that’s right, I am researching the intricacies of magic outside of Fae, Mer and Shifters, particularly that of Wolves. Of course, my library research only gets me so far,” Aerin supplies, continuing to stir her tea.
Soren gives her a wolfish grin over the edge of his teacup, taking the first sip. At this Aerin brings her own cup to her lips. The tea is flavored with cinnamon and orange, cozy and delicious. Aerin hums in enjoyment.
Though her enjoyment falls rather quickly when Soren says, “So it has nothing to do with that Wolf you and the Hale Prince were parading around yesterday?”
Malice stills next to her, his wings tense. Aerin switches it on, laughing as she sets her tea back down.
“Well, you’ve caught me,” Aerin says, leaning in conspiratorially.
“That was all a show so I can keep him around. His name is Emrys, a lone Southern Wolf I met over a month ago when I ventured outside the Valtara walls. I don’t hold the same prejudices as my father, or the same ethnocentrism as the Hale King for that matter.
” Aerin shrugs, leaning back again. Soren evaluates her, looking for a lie.
“Surely you know my reputation,” Aerin supplies, taking a bite of bread. Malice eyes her, questioning what the hell she is doing.
“I am aware of what they say about you, Miss Tolvare,” Soren says carefully.
“Then you know my interest is purely out of curiosity, if not born of boredom. I have a Wolf in my inner circle and so, I’d like to know exactly what that means.” Aerin takes another sip of tea. Soren seems to relax a bit at this, taking a large bite of a pastry.
“I will answer your questions, Miss Tolvare,” he concedes. “After all, it is rare to have a Tolvare in one’s debt.” Understanding washes over Aerin and she smiles knowingly at the Alpha.
“She will not owe you anything, Soren; this is a favor to me,” Malice says lowly, his hands tightening into fists on the table.
The Wolf’s green eyes don’t leave Aerin. Aerin smiles at him, placing a hand over Malice’s fist.
“If you give me the answers I am looking for, I’d be happy to return the favor. Though my travels to Zeneith are fewer than I’d like, I’m sure I will return at some point for you to call upon it,” Aerin concedes, sipping her tea.
Victory flickers in Soren’s eyes as he carefully takes another sip. “Well then, Miss Tolvare, what would you like to know?”
“Tell me about Wolf magic, how it works, how it’s shared,” Aerin asks, settling back in her chair. Malice does the same, folding his arms over his chest, disgruntled.
Soren looks out the window behind Aerin. Over her shoulder Aerin can see the other two Wolves laying down in the clearing.
“Wolf magic is different from how I understand Fae magic. It is a well of shared magic, controlled primarily by the Alpha but the magic itself is the pack. Whereas Fae magic is imbued in you, you are the magic, the Pack magic is separate from us, and it graces us with the ability to use it.”
Aerin brings her gaze back to the Alpha in front of her.
His explanation sits right with her. Looking back, it does feel that way.
As if the golden magic that swirled above her head during the fight was not hers but rather something given to her.
Separate from her, possessing its own kind of will.
Since the fight she hardly ever feels like she can reach that magic, let alone understand it.
“The magic has a mind of its own, and it follows rules that cannot be broken by will alone,” Soren continues.
“What kind of rules?” Aerin asks.
“Some of them are unknown to even me,” Soren explains, “But some are well known and easy to follow. The most important thing to know is the magic chooses the Alpha, and the magic ensures the Alpha it wants persists. Now this isn’t to say Alphas cannot die, we are not immortal, but the magic prevents threats from within the pack.
It protects the Alpha the same way it protects every member.
The magic will not allow senseless or selfish deaths of Wolves.
” Aerin opens her mouth to ask another question, but Soren continues, “And even with a loss, the Pack magic will always persist. There have always been nine Wolf packs, there will always be nine Wolf packs.”
“There has never been a tenth? There has never been a pack established without the loss of another Alpha?” Malice cuts in, asking a question that is too thinly veiled, but one Aerin has all the same.
“No. Alphas are born or made. When an Alpha is born within a pack it’s felt immediately.
As they come of age they strengthen, and the existing Alpha weakens.
There is no altering the path of the magic from the old Alpha to the new one.
Eventually the old Alpha will lose all control of the magic, and the new one will take over.
If an Alpha is made, it’s from the magic moving onto a new a bloodline, a new Wolf, after a previous Alpha dies.
Sometimes the entire pack dies. Other times the remaining Wolves have to find a place in a new pack, usually within a week.
It’s all the will of the magic, there is no controlling it,” Soren explains.
“And there are nine known Alphas? Right now?” Malice asks, his attempt at simple curiosity futile. Aerin shoots him a look while Soren’s attention is on refilling his teacup.
“No,” Soren says, “Currently there are only eight known Alphas. Years ago, an Alpha died at the hands of the Hale King.” Soren bristles. “We are still waiting for her magic to reappear.”
“Why hasn’t it?” Malice asks. Aerin all but kicks him under the table.
“Our best guess it that the magic is still waiting for the right Alpha to be born,” Soren says, ripping a chunk of pastry and popping it into his mouth.
“And that magic couldn’t go to… a non-Wolf? I mean if it’s just floating around out there, who is to say King Hale doesn’t have it?” Aerin asks closely.
Soren shakes his head no.
“Impossible,” he states, “Pack magic would never bow to a pure-blooded Fae.” He hums into his cup of tea, seeming to consider something. “Though, it would be possible if he somehow had a half-blood.”
“A half-blooded Wolf?” Aerin hopes Soren doesn’t pick up on the way her heartbeat has increased.
“There have been some, over time. Wolves who sired with full-magic creatures. It’s all legend of course, from the time of Old.” Soren shrugs, as if sharing a fable and not uncovering the truth of Aerin’s entire existence.
“See now that is interesting,” Aerin plays, “I love the stories of Old.”
Soren nods, still pondering. Perhaps stuck on the idea of a half-blood Alpha in the clutches of Vitus Hale.
“There are old legends of half-bloods with unusual magic. Powerful Alphas,” he murmurs.
His eyes train on Aerin once more, examining her closely for a moment, but then he shrugs.
“But those are just legend. I usually don’t believe in anything unless I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
” He glances at Malice. “Like Dragons.” Soren laughs, a lightness returning to his features, any troubling thoughts put to rest.
“Are there any other rules about the Pack magic?” Aerin asks him.
“Just as the will of the magic controls the Alpha, the will of the Alpha controls the pack. This can be as strict or as loose as the Alpha prefers. This…” he gestures to his body “Is how I choose to appear, and with my control of the Pack magic I can choose how my pack members appear, whether it be their Wolf form or their Fae-like forms. It is ultimate control.” Soren seems to shake his head from a thought, coming back more serious than he was moments ago.
“But the magic is a well that has an end, and it must be distributed amongst the members, enough to keep them healthy, and alive.” Aerin holds her tongue about the Pack magic’s idea of healthy, if how they found Emrys is any indication.
“In general, the larger the Wolf, the more magic it takes from the well, which is why in the South the Wolves are smaller. Larger packs mean less magic per individual.” He seems happy to divulge this little nugget of information that Aerin tucks away in the back of her mind, for her inevitable pursuit of Elara’s destruction to avenge Emrys.
“That being said, the pack must be formed of three, no less.” Aerin’s eyebrows jump in surprise despite her attempt at controlling her features. This is new.
“Three?” Malice echoes Aerin’s shock.
Soren nods, looking out the window again.
“The magic won’t stay with an Alpha without three.
It will give you time, and practically force it on you.
” He pauses and smiles. “When my magic came to me, I easily took Greta from our original pack, but I got this itch over time. This… well it felt irrational. I met Ash at an Alpha meeting. He was a second to the Western Alpha, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Day and night, despite my best efforts. It was driving me mad.
I didn’t realize until after that it was the Pack magic working its will on me.
Despite the risk, I fought a Western Alpha for Ash, and I won.
Only once our pack was three did I feel the magic settle, did I feel myself settle.
” Soren smiles with a sense of nostalgia, as if he just shared a sweet love story.
And perhaps he did, but the effect flies right over Aerin’s head.
Aerin looks at Malice, who is already looking at her, worry on his face.
A sick feeling swirls in Aerin’s gut. She can tell Malice is already contemplating how Aerin will be able to find and hide a second Wolf.
But Aerin knows her half-blood Pack magic isn’t following the same kind of rules.
It’s already picked a third. Aerin’s magic has already picked Malice.