Chapter Twenty
TORION
Iscowled down at the proposal in front of me, at the list of names I recognized, and the astonishing numbers alongside them.
Acreage, miles of it. Beautiful land, forests and farmland, grazing hills and fishing streams, now listed on offer for potential sale.
With a quick glance up, I caught the exchange between Francis Keane and Damian Worthington's aide, Mr. Dunkley—smug, knowing, Keane reassured the other man with a faint nod, as if my agreement was already settled.
Behind them, in the shadowy corners of the room, the stormy beta and Worthington's bastard half-brother, Bennett Reeves, watched us all.
"You must admit the prices are fair, my lord," Mr. Dunkley said, drawing a pair of delicate spectacles from his nose and wiping them with a handkerchief.
"More than that, I'd say," Keane echoed, grinning at me and waggling his eyebrows, as if it were we getting away with something and not Skybern.
"Indeed," I said, scenting the triumph off the two men and resisting the urge to growl in answer. "In fact, such a high price per acre reeks of bribery."
In the corner, Bennett Reeve's head ducked, hiding what I almost thought might've been a smile. Mr. Dunkley, a human in a room of dragons, blustered nervously, twisting to look at Reeves before quickly correcting himself. "Sir, I assure—"
"So what if it is, Torion?" Keane asked, cutting the Skybern solicitor off.
His smile remained silky, but I could tell he hadn't expected me to put up an argument and he was sharpening to the conversation now.
"Our own lords struggle to make ends meet while the gentlemen of Skybern and even Bleake Isle prosper in trade. An exchange like this one—one in Grave Hills’ favor—will provide wealth for generations. "
"Is it in Grave Hills’ favor?" I asked, sitting back in my seat, flexing my wings behind me briefly, ignoring the sharp ache of my muscles. I'd been flying too much, hieing off to every corner of the region, trying to keep myself busy. Trying to stay out of the empty nest my omega had abandoned.
The one you let her run from, my dragon grumbled irritably.
Keane's eyebrows raised. "You said yourself—"
I ignored him, turning back to Dunkley. "These Skybern lords looking to acquire our land, would they remain Alpha Worthington's subjects while living here under my rule? Would their sons? Would they be dragonkin gentlemen of Grave Hills or of Skybern?"
Keane's mouth snapped shut, his eyes narrowing on me. You bastard, I thought, refusing to look back at him. You'd sell the Hills to the highest bidder.
Dunkley shifted in his seat. "I'm sure… It might depend…"
"If they lived here, they should be gentlemen of the hills.
But in whose interest would they vote, I wonder?
" I continued, watching the poor ill-prepared man fuss with his papers and his glasses.
I wasn't impressed. Worthington should've sent a dragon to speak to me.
I eyed Reeves in the corner briefly, but he was idly studying the books on a shelf, only the hint of a curve lingering on his mouth.
"Or do they only seek idle sport here? We have good hunting in these forests," I mused.
"Perhaps the Skybern gentlemen require our land for entertainment over brief visits.
Who then will profit from the farms they buy?
Who will steward them? To whom will they pay their taxes?
If they commit a crime, who will they answer to? And—"
Suddenly, Reeves laughed, the sharp, loud sound clattering out from the corner and startling even Keane in his chair. "You've made your point, Feargus," Reeves said, cool and smiling as he stepped forward.
"Have I?"
"Sir," Keane said, barely turning to look at the younger beta, something snide in the wrinkle of his nose. He didn't think highly of Reeves, no matter how close Damian kept his brother at his side.
Reeves ignored him entirely, blank gray eyes holding my stare. "This was an overture, an initial offer. Your concerns are heard, Alpha, and will be relayed to our Lord Worthington."
Keane's fingers dug into the arms of the chair he sat in, and he leaned forward to catch my eyes.
I ignored him too. Omega Cadogan had seen significant power in Bennett Reeves, and I was beginning to agree with her.
I'd thought him a lapdog to Worthington, a pitied and scandalous by-blow of Worthington's father.
But there was a slick bite in his words, as if he'd thought the offer was as outrageous as I did. I wondered if he'd known I'd refuse.
"Tell Damian not to waste my time with gestures like this one," I said, too blunt, too biting.
"Torion," Keane hissed.
"I am the alpha, Lord Keane," I snapped, my claws digging into the surface of my desk as I leaned forward to snarl back at the older man.
"Just as Worthington is. But his domain is Skybern, not Grave Hills.
" Keane moved away stiffly, argument bubbling in his dark gaze, but I turned to Reeves once more.
"If he wants some advantage from me, he should present something even he could not resist in return.
Not make an obvious grab for power here in my hills. "
Bennett bowed his head, and it almost looked respectful. "As you say, my lord."
I bristled at the deference but kept my mouth shut.
It itched to be “my lorded,” but it served the point I was making.
The reality was simple—I was not at my best, not since Brigid had left four days ago.
I slept poorly, my appetite was starving but never satisfied and everything tasted of ash, and I had the irrational urge to tear the keep apart stone by stone until all that was left was rubble.
I was never going to be amenable to whatever scheme Keane and Worthington had concocted.
Not in this condition. Not with my omega hiding away in her ramshackle cottage, preferring the company of cobwebs and field mice over my own.
I sighed and rose from my chair. Dunkley, who'd gone pale and silent, and Keane quickly followed. "Let's adjourn, then. I at least owe you a meal for the trouble of your journey," I said, trying for diplomacy and only managing to sound weary.
Still, they murmured their agreements, Keane all but boiling over to express his disappointment in me. He would have to wait. Perhaps I would drag out the dinner with Reeves until it might make it impossible.
I should've canceled the meeting, but I'd sworn I wouldn't be my father, controlled by my obsession with my omega, ignoring my responsibility to my people.
You could've sent for Brigid, a wicked, tempting voice whispered.
And the voice was right. I should've called Brigid back yesterday.
Or have persuaded her to stay another week.
And then done my best to convince her not to leave at all.
Part of me believed I'd let her flee because I wanted to prove to her that I was not Malcolm, that I was better than him.
That she could have anything she desired from me, even if that desire was living separately.
The truth was more pathetic. I had some pride, and she had chipped at it by wanting to leave.
Had she wanted me to beg her to stay? Or would it only have taken a little coaxing?
If I'd played the tyrant, would it have been the excuse she needed to remain at my side, or would it have driven a wedge between us?
As if a twenty five mile distance wasn't enough of a wedge.
"Will Omega Feargus be joining us?"
I nearly tripped, finding myself halfway down the stairs to the main hall of the keep, with Bennett Reeves at my side. I existed in a fog of my own muddled, spiraling thoughts.
"Unfortunately not," I said, hoping to leave it at that.
"What an elusive woman she is proving to be," Reeves said, too light and smooth. He was an altogether irritatingly slick person, and it made me want to punch him in the face. A broken nose might not improve his sly appearance, but I thought it would lift my mood.
"She takes on many responsibilities outside of the keep," I said.
Reeves hummed, keeping pace with me even as I tried to hurry my steps. "If not for the…widely publicized commotion you caused with your new twist on the Choosing Ceremony, Worthington might enjoy the rumor that she doesn't exist at all."
For a moment, my mouth opened to explain that she must exist because I suffered every second of her absence, a taut, sluggish drag of an ache inside my chest that pulled toward her.
That I knew perfectly what direction east was because every time I faced it, I felt that pull grow more insistent, that I was almost certain it would serve as a true compass to the one place I wanted most to be.
Instead I shrugged and said, "Skybern puts too much stock in rumor."
Bennett Reeves only smiled. "Respectfully, my lord, you underestimate their value as a currency."
I ground my teeth in my jaw and swallowed down the warning.