Chapter 12 The Festival #4
Auhert lifted his mug in celebration. “By Artrax’s Claws, that is good news!”
“Hardly,” Ridan grumbled. “They’ll be back.”
“What makes you so certain?”
Ridan didn’t want to tell them about Corric. The chiefs wouldn’t see him as pack—they’d see him as a liability. While the clans shared a history, and the same core beliefs, through the ages they’d all developed unique laws and ideals. While pack was important to them all, Corric wasn’t their pack.
Besides, now that Bargrave was dead, it was entirely likely King Krait would not have a reason to come for him. Sure, he was his son, but they knew that was just his flimsy justification for invading. Krait wanted something else.
“Kaledonea is dying,” Ridan revealed. “They’ve relied on magic for too long, and it’s fading. They need land, food, resources.”
Thewn spat at the mention of magic, but Areine’s eyes glittered. “Which makes the Stone Blade a gem too precious to leave alone.”
She was right. The Stone Blade excelled in farming and livestock. Their horses were second to none, and they haven’t had a lean winter in years. If land is what Krait wanted, there was no other clan that would suffice.
That and Stone Blade were the closest to Artrax’s Mountain. His ancestors settled there specifically to protect it.
“Bah.” Thewn waved his hands. “Kaledonea has always been a coward. They won’t risk another defeat.”
Ridan didn’t believe that for a second. It had been quiet these last months, thankfully, but the silence wouldn’t last. He suspected Krait was just beginning, and they had to be ready.
But if he revealed that to the chiefs, they would view him as weak. Incapable of protecting his lands. He kept his doubts quiet. He didn’t need to give Thewn more fuel to fan the flames to burn him. Not when his position was so shaky.
Talk turned to crops and alliances. Auhert said he was looking for a mate, and Thewn seemed interested in him finding a ‘sensible omega’ in his clan. Which was typical. Thewn would want to unite the Eastern coast clans. That would put the Stone Blade in an awkward position.
Ridan’s head began to throb.
The meeting concluded with a lot of vague assurances and waived aside concerns. It was the most unproductive afternoon of Ridan’s life, and he needed a drink. Or three.
He wilted in his chair, rubbing his temples. He wasn’t alone.
Areine was still sitting in her chair, chin resting upon interlaced fingers as she stared him down.
“Thewn will probably challenge you,” she said after a long moment of silence.
“Because I’m young?” he asked belligerently. “Or because I’m an omega?”
“Does it matter?”
“He doesn’t fuck with you.”
Her grin spread, white teeth cutting through the gloom. “He only made that mistake once.” She ran a finger along her smooth jaw. “Ask him who broke his jaw.”
He knew he liked Areine. Settling in, he looked across the thick wooden table at his fellow omegan chief. “What do you want?”
“Pretty and smart,” she cooed, her scent of baked sand smelling entirely too pleased. “I want what you need.”
He ignored her comment. “And what is it I need?”
“Allies,” she supplied, eyes narrowing as she took him in. “Restrina was strong and had years to prove herself. You don’t. Thewn is an ass, but he’s right. You’re young. That’s a weakness. And if Kaledonea is plotting, that’s a problem.”
It figures Areine saw through his concerns about Kaledonea. Trying to keep his face neutral, he let her continue.
“Fact of the matter is, we can’t afford to lose Stone Blade lands. The only reason the Walled City hasn’t been a problem for us was their limitations. They didn’t have the resources to attack. But now, for whatever reason, they do. And if they take your lands, they’ll have the strength for more.
“Not to mention, Stone Blade lands are the last defense for Artrax’s Mountain.”
“You think they could be targeting it?”
She didn’t answer right away, looking down at the table for a long moment. “I think it’s a possibility we can’t afford to dismiss.”
Artrax’s Mountain was more than sacred to the Clans. It was everything. If they lost it…no. That was too much to bear. To think of someone like King Krait even breathing the mountain air was an insult he couldn’t fathom.
“What are you proposing?”
“The Strong Leg and Stone Blade have never had a problem, but our distance made friendship…difficult. I’m suggesting an alliance between us. You have a fight on your hands, and I have warriors itching for blood.”
She was right. With five days ride between them, it wasn’t as if they were neighbors.
The Strong Leg had never needed anything from the Stone Blade.
They were a liberal clan, free with their inhibitions and successful.
He’d heard they even traded wares at Brambleberry Junction and far over the seas.
“What do you get out of this?” he asked warily.
Areine’s eyes glittered. “Besides protecting Artrax’s sacrifice? I’d get an in with the great Ridan Oldsun.”
He snorted. “My ego is just fine, thank you. What do you really want?”
Her eyebrow raised. “What? Don’t think I’d want to court you?” Ridan snorted. “Hmm, it’s a shame, but you’re right. I prefer my omegas to be…soft and sweet. Not that you don’t have a certain appeal…” she cocked her head, raking her eyes up and down his body.
“If you think I won’t rip those gems right from your head—”
“Don’t start something you won’t finish, omega.” Her voice was rough, eyes dark with something that could be a challenge or something more salacious.
“Speak plainly, omega,” he snapped back.
“The Strong Leg is not in need of anything. But we are looking to expand. Where and when is my business, but when the time comes, I want to know if we can count on the Stone Blade’s help?”
Ridan kept the surprise off his face. The Strong Leg had plenty of land. They had farms in addition to their boats and gem mines. If Areine was suggesting expanding territory, it must be something beyond necessity. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d tell him if he asked.
“That could be arranged,” he conceded, taking a risk he wasn’t sure he should. “But in addition, I want to increase trade between our clans.”
Her scent flared victorious. “Deal.” She stood, letting her fingers brush across the tabletop as she approached him. Extending a tanned palm to him, she lifted him to his feet. He didn’t notice before, but she had metal rings wrapped around her fingers. Each one had a vicious point filed into it.
“I look forward to being allies, Chief Ridan,” she purred, looking very much like he’d just stumbled into her trap.
The festival was massive. Merchants set up tents and tables as far as the eye could see.
A field of multicolor canvas ebbing on the wind kicked up along the flatlands they’d settled on.
According to Corric, this was as equidistant to the four clans as possible, and they’d been having their festivals here for generations.
While the shops were clearly the biggest function of the festival, the real highlight was the fighting ring.
Set up much like the one they had at home; it was a flat circle circled by a hastily erected fence.
Someone had brought archery targets, but they were pushed against the far fence to let the far more popular contests go on.
Brune leaned on the fence, watching two alphas beat each other into the dirt.
When he’d asked, Jonen and Corric explained the fights could be anything from showcasing talent, to feuds, to challenges, and even impressing potential mates.
Ridan told him on their walk back from the Shrieking Cliffs that Chief Restrina had met his father in one such fight.
“Will you fight?” Brune asked Corric and Jonen. They were standing beside him, charitably answering all his questions.
Jonen shrugged. “I…” he glanced over at Corric from the corner of his eye. “Maybe,” he hedged.
Whatever was plaguing Corric and Jonen seemed to resolve itself. Whether it was fixed, or the pack just decided comforting each other in the wake of Restrina’s death was more important. Brune didn’t ask. It wasn’t his business; he was just glad their mixed scents weren’t burning his nose anymore.
Derry had been with them, but he took off the moment he caught sight of his potential suitor. Corric made a face when he did, but when asked, all he did was shrug and say, “She’s from the Iron Jaw.” And refused to elaborate.
They watched several fights—some with weapons and some without. He was getting hungry—there were some heavenly smells coming from the market—when Ridan joined them.
His face was gaunt. Lips curled in that way that told Brune he was thinking too hard.
Despite that, wearing his cloak, a simple tied shirt, and hair braided back with clay beads and teeth, he looked regal.
It wasn’t really his clothes, though. He wasn’t dressed dissimilarly to anyone else—especially some of the chiefs Brune had seen.
It was the way he carried himself, unapologetically, with a hand on his sword and eyes up.
“How was it?” Brune asked, not sure what a meeting of the chief’s entailed.
Ridan grunted. “About what you’d expect.”
“Alpha’s trying to gag you with their scent to make up for the fact that you’re an omega and have twice the land they have?” Corric guessed.
That made Ridan grin.
Now that Brune was paying attention, Ridan did reek of alpha. Something coppery clung to his skin, and it made his teeth ache. He wanted to grab Ridan, rub his wrists against every inch of him until that other alpha’s scent was nothing but dust in the wind.
He held onto the fence instead, fingers digging into the wood.
“Thewn?” Jonen guessed. Ridan nodded and it made Jonen’s scent sour. “Why haven’t they challenged him yet?”
Brune looked between them until Corric took pity on him. “Thewn is the chief of Strong Jaw. He’s a solid warrior, and decent enough chief, but he’s bigoted towards most things. His views have seen much of his clan leaving to joining other clans.”