Chapter 15 #2
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you telling me or asking nicely in front of the Council?”
Rowen placed a hand on my arm. “Wolfe…”
Her quiet warning grounded me in a way nothing else could. I didn’t break eye contact with her. “Diesel,” I said again, voice lethal.
He grinned. “Fine. Fine. I’ll behave.” A pause. “Mostly.”
He stepped back behind Rowen—behind Rowen, not me—a fact every alpha in the room clocked and panicked over, because the implication was obvious. He protected her first.
Deryn noticed, of course. His expression soured. “This Council,” he said icily, “will not tolerate disrespect.”
Diesel folded his arms. “Then you should practice what you preach, because you’ve disrespected my alpha and his mate since we walked in.”
I growled under my breath. “Stop provoking them.”
“Can’t,” he whispered back. “They’re fun when they’re angry.”
Rowen hid a smile behind her hand while Killian looked like he might faint.
Deryn slammed his hand against the table again. “Enough! We proceed with the rite to determine whether Alpha Wolfe’s claim over two territories is legitimate.”
Diesel muttered, “Spoiler…it is.”
I didn’t turn. But I made him feel my growl in his bones. He loved it. Psychopath.
“I like that we remember Wolfe is an alpha.” Every head turned toward the doors on the side, as the old shaman entered.
Blind, seemingly frail, yet I could feel his power from here.
Diesel stilled completely. “So much talk and riddles surround us all, but the truth must be spoken.” He walked up the three steps to the table and took the seat at the end, not near the others.
He looked directly at Rowen with his milky white eyes.
“Congratulations, Rowen of the Hollow. He’ll be a strong alpha and heir. ”
The hall was quiet, and while the shaman had just confirmed our claim with one sentence, Deryn was far from appeased.
“Shaman, we—”
“Yes, yes,” he said, waving his hand, brushing away the Pack Council leader’s words.
“Wolfe is to be tested for…coercion?” The shaman bobbed his head.
“Walked this world a long time,” he told no one and everyone.
“Never seen a shifter bend the land when it didn’t want to.
” He sighed. “Never seen it from a shaman, a druid, and definitely never by an alpha. No matter how strong they are in their Will. The land is the land, and the land is the Goddess’s.
” The shaman turned to me. “You’re not trying to overthrow Luna herself, are you, Alpha?
” he asked skeptically, and I hid my grin.
“I am not trying to overthrow anyone, Shaman.”
The shaman threw up his hands with a pleased cry, settling back in his seat. “Perfect. Was that all?” he asked, turning to Deryn.
“The rite—”
The shaman let out a huge burp. Several tittered, and I fought back my own grin. “Ate a wily old rabbit on the way here,” he said, thumping his chest. “Stringy.” He burped again. Rowen’s hand was over her mouth. “What were you saying?”
If looks could kill, it wasn’t just me that would have been slain in the chamber this night.
“Alpha Wolfe is accused of rising against us,” Alpha Deryn bit out.
The shaman became somber. “For what purpose?” he asked, his white stare on the table.
“We have yet to question him extensively,” the kinder of the alphas said.
The shaman blinked. Slowly. Long enough that half the hall leaned forward to see if he’d fallen asleep. Then he snorted. Loud. “Question him? For what? Breathing too loudly? Standing too tall? Having the loyalty of his pack?”
Deryn stiffened. “This is a serious accusation—”
“It is,” the shaman agreed. “Who accused him of it?” the shaman asked, leaning his elbow on the table, head propped lazily on his palm. “You?”
A ripple shot through the hall. Several alphas ducked their heads to hide their smirks.
Deryn flushed an ugly shade. “This wolf—this alpha—has taken two territories under his command. That has never—”
“Never what?” the shaman interrupted. “Never happened? Wrong.” He wagged a wrinkled finger. “Alpha Wolfe already told you of one. Your records are dusty, but they are accurate. You should check them before you speak again, Deryn.”
Deryn’s voice sharpened to be heard over the rising murmurs. “He destabilizes the balance—”
“No, he does not,” the shaman said plainly. The shaman stood, looking impossibly small, old and tired.
“The land does not bow to our laws,” he said.
“It bows to truth. To the one the earth acknowledges.” His gaze slid to Rowen.
To me. Back to Rowen. Then to me again, and he sighed as if annoyed at something only he could see.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he asked me. “Half a blessing, half a curse, thrumming at your teeth.”
Deryn sputtered. “You admit there is something!”
“Oh, certainly,” the shaman replied. “Strong. Old. Loud. Makes my joints ache.” He rotated his shoulder with a grimace as if that proved his point.
“Then Wolfe must submit to the rite,” Deryn snapped triumphantly. “To verify he hasn’t stolen—”
“Stolen?” The shaman raised a brow. “What exactly would he have stolen? A river? A cliffside? The pulse of the Hollow itself? Hard things to pocket.”
The hall broke into stifled laughter.
Deryn slammed his palm onto the table. “Silence!”
“No,” the shaman said, with such quiet finality that the torches flickered.
“You should be silent.” Silence slammed into the room like a dropped stone.
The shaman pointed at Deryn’s chest, unimpressed.
“You drag wolves from their homes. You poke sleeping magic with sticks. You accuse a bonded pair—carrying the next alpha, no less—of treason. And for what purpose?” He tilted his head. “Control? Ego? Fear?”
Deryn’s nostrils flared. “We have cause.”
“Cause.” The shaman rolled his eyes. “Your cause is rot. Old, stale rot. Enough.” Several of the alphas on the Council winced.
Then the shaman turned to me again, expression shifting from bored to razor-sharp.
“You didn’t steal anything,” he said. “You didn’t force anything.
You didn’t rise above your station—your station rose to meet you.
That is all Alpha Wolfe. It rose, and you met it.
” A heavy beat of silence. “A claim like yours,” he continued, “cannot be faked. Cannot be forged. Cannot be ‘tested’ in some little bowl.” He glanced at the steaming ritual bowl, nose wrinkling.
“Ugly thing,” he muttered. “Smells like boiled moss. That’s not right at all. ”
Rowen’s hand tightened around mine. I felt her wolf watching him carefully. Trusting him. Not entirely, but enough.
Deryn, however, looked like a man who was ready to go to war. “This shaman does not speak for the entire Pack Council,” he snapped. “He cannot overrule the rite—”
“Oh, but I can,” the shaman said, and he smiled. It wasn’t kind, wasn’t gentle. It was one of power. “The grace of Luna herself is in my bones, Alpha Deryn, and she is not impressed with this Pack Council.” He slowly looked around at the ones gathered. “I outrank you,” the shaman said simply.
“Outrank!” Deryn sputtered.
The shaman tapped his foot twice on the ground. The floor shivered, and I felt something under the soil answer him.
Old magic. Older than the Pack Council. Older than any pack.
The shaman looked at me then, all humor gone. “The Hollow and Stonefang are not yours to claim. They are yours to carry,” he said. “You are strong, Wolfe, you need to be; you will be tested soon enough.”
I swallowed hard, feeling Rowen press closer to me. Killian took a step closer in silent readiness.
Diesel whispered in my head. “I told you shamans were trouble.”
The shaman sat back down with a grunt, turning to Deryn with a smile so sharp it could cut steel. “Well,” he said cheerfully, “anything else?”
Deryn clenched his jaw. His knuckles whitened. He looked like a man who’d lost before he even got the chance to play.
And the shaman watched him, waiting.
Ready. Almost eager.
And I wondered if I’d just gotten pulled into a different battle completely.