Chapter 10 - Arthur
Arthur took them out the back door.
Thin winter sun banded the yard, frost on the fence sparkling. Aurelia bounded down the steps between him and Dani, gloved hands swinging. Chase had presented the gloves that morning as “official Nordan issue,” which meant they were two sizes too big and completely unnecessary.
“So this is all yours now,” Aurelia said, squinting at the alpha house, the compound up the slope, the trees beyond.
“Mine and the pack’s,” Arthur said.
Dani shoved her hands into her coat pockets, her shoulders not quite as tight as yesterday. Arthur caught the quick, reluctant curve of her mouth and had to look away before the bond could make too much of it.
They cut down from the house to the main road.
Skymist spread out ahead, low buildings along the hillside, the steel line of the ocean beyond.
A truck rattled past, kicking slush. The air smelled of diesel, pine, sea, and under it all, the sharp threads of all the supernatural species currently hiding in plain sight.
“What’s that?” Aurelia pointed to a collection of squat buildings with a fenced yard full of crates marring the otherwise beautiful coastal landscape.
“Warehouse,” Arthur said. “The stuff that’s too big to get across the mountains comes by boat, sits there till someone gets round to carrying it up the hill.”
“Do I go to school here?” Aurelia blurted a minute later.
Arthur’s mind stuttered, his mouth opening impulsively to answer a logistical question, but without any knowledge to actually carry through. Territory lines, he could deal with. Trade agreements, fine. Patrol circuits, in his sleep. School, on the other hand?
“I—”
“We’ll see,” Dani said smoothly. “Let’s get through the summit first.”
“Do they have a playground?” Aurelia persisted.
“An old gymnasium,” Arthur said. “Smells like wet socks.”
“Lame.”
“You went to class in a coven cellar,” Dani reminded her. “That wasn’t exactly fun, either.”
“Yeah, everything was cramped,” Aurelia said. “Being out in the wilds is cooler.”
Arthur and Dani exchanged a glance. They hadn’t yet talked about their days together at Skymist High. The conversation sat between them like a stone, unyielding and heavy. Arthur cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the path ahead.
They angled down toward the water, the road leading through charming, weathered old buildings, Aurelia keeping them firmly in the present with her endless stream of questions.
Arthur was glad of it. With Dani at his side, the town transformed into something new.
He saw it through her eyes, through the filmy haze of their shared memories.
It would be only too easy to get lost in that current.
As they approached the water, the bay opened out, dark and restless, boats rocking gently. A crust of ice edged the rocks. Gulls wheeled, screaming.
Aurelia jogged to the low wall and peered over. “It’s huge.”
“Ocean usually is,” Arthur said.
She made a face.
“Not too close,” Dani called. “If you fall in, I’m not jumping after you.”
“I’ll shift and get her,” Arthur said without thinking.
They both looked back. Aurelia brightened, and Dani’s mouth pressed briefly flat.
“Pier,” Arthur muttered. “Let’s walk the pier.”
The boards creaked under their boots. Aurelia walked ahead, arms out for balance, peppering him with questions.
“How old were you when you first shifted?”
“Thirteen.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Aye.”
“Did you cry?”
“No.”
“Liar,” Dani said.
“You weren’t there.”
“But you told me about it afterward.”
He grunted. Aurelia cackled.
“Can you smell any fish?” Aurelia demanded.
“Yes,” Arthur said. “Mostly halibut.”
“That is so cool.”
She trotted ahead to poke at a frozen rope coil with her boot.
Silence settled between him and Dani, heavy but not empty. Wind whipped at her curls; she crossed her arms against the cold.
“Is this weird for you?” she asked, eyes on the water. “Walking around like this. With us.”
“Aye,” he said. “Weird. Good and bad both.”
“Very you answer,” she muttered.
He rested his hands on the rail, watched the chop of the bay. The words had sat behind his teeth for years. Either he spat them out now or he never would.
“When you left,” he said, “I searched for you.”
She froze, every muscle stiffening, her eyes resolute on the distant water.
“I made it as far as Montana when I lost the trail and had to turn back. You did well.”
“I left a note,” she said, her voice almost robotic.
He huffed. “Aye, and I ignored it at first. I couldn’t understand why you’d left in the way you did.”
“Really?” she asked, whipping round, her eyes a storm. “I would have thought it was pretty damn obvious.”
He didn’t flinch, though his grip tightened on the rail. “Alright. Then I couldn’t accept it. I wanted to hunt you down. To bring you back home.”
“This place was never my home.”
“You were born here. Your parents were buried here. You were pack.”
Her jaw tightened, her limbs shaking, from cold or anger, he couldn’t tell. “I never belonged. You know that. I was practically an outcast from the Nordan. The only thing tying me here was…” she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, her voice cracking, “…was you.”
The words were like a punch to the gut. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her tight, tell her how sorry he was for everything. “Aye, and I fucked it up that night we spent together. I know I did. I regret it every day.”
She inhaled sharply, her scent spiking, “You regret it?”
“What? No, no—fuck,” he rubbed his hand over his face.
“I meant I regret…how it happened. I regret what I said after. I regret that I missed so much. You. Her. Everything. I missed her first steps. Missed her birthdays. Missed every time she was scared, and you had to stand between her and the world alone. I wasn’t there because I was… I was a coward.”
The admission sat between them, ugly and true.
“I chose fear,” he said. “Of being seen as weak. Of my father’s voice in my head.
Of losing the pack. I hurt you.” He forced himself to meet her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dani. For that morning. For what I said.
For not hunting you down to the four corners of the world.
For not explaining properly. For all of it. ”
The bond throbbed, picking up his shame, feeding back a knot of hurt, anger, and something he didn’t dare name.
She studied his face, searching. Her eyes were wet but sharp.
“That is,” she said slowly, “the most straightforward apology you’ve ever managed.”
“Is the bar really that low?” he asked with a huff.
A short laugh escaped her.
“I’m still angry,” she added. “I spent so long putting up with being your shameful little secret. Of compromising my wants and needs, opening myself up to be hurt, just so that I could be near you, be friends with you, even though you were the alpha’s son and I was just an outcast. And that version of me… she’s gone. That’s on you.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“But,” she said, and something eased in his chest, “I’m glad you’re here. That you’ve met her. That she knows you. She deserved that. Even if you are an idiot.”
“I am an idiot,” he agreed.
She shook her head, faint exasperation softening into something else, and reached for him.
Her hand slid into his, fingers cold, grip sure. Heat shot up his arm, the bond lit, bright and pleased.
He squeezed once. She didn’t pull away.
Up ahead, Aurelia turned, saw their joined hands, and her eyebrows shot up. Dani made the smallest “don’t start” expression. Aurelia visibly swallowed whatever commentary she had and went back to her rope.
They stood like that until the wind bit through their coats and Dani shivered.
“We should head back into town,” Arthur said, voice rougher than he liked. “You’ll freeze.”
“You’re the one who refuses to wear a hat,” she muttered, but she didn’t let go of his hand until the pier met the road again.
***
Afternoon light angled through the front windows of the Chilkat Inn. A couple of Nordan wolves hunched over cards. Two Severney nursed coffees in a corner. Human fishermen lined the stools near the door, damp jackets steaming.
Chase lounged behind the bar. Layla perched on a stool with tea, one hand absently on her belly.
Chase’s grin kicked up when he saw them. “If it isn’t the alpha family outing,” he said. “Adorable. Sickening, but adorable.”
Arthur grunted. “Shut up and pour.”
Chase winked at Dani. “Luna. You’re looking ravishing this morning.”
Dani snorted, ignoring Arthur’s warning growl to his brother. Aurelia scrambled onto a stool, eyes already on the chalkboard menu.
“Do you do hot chocolate?” she asked.
“Best in town,” Chase said, reaching for a mug.
“Anchor staff would like a word,” Layla said mildly.
“Anchor staff can fight me,” Chase said. “We have marshmallows.”
Aurelia lit up.
Arthur ordered coffee for himself and, without thinking, tea for Dani the way she took it. Her eyebrows flicked up, then down. She didn’t comment.
“How bad is it?” Arthur asked Chase quietly.
Chase’s easy expression thinned. “Depends who you ask,” he said.
“Dom’s pretending everything’s fine. Theo’s keeping the peace for the Volkhov, since Julian’s been spending most of his time…
vetting some of the newcomers. The Severney are calm.
But some of the nomad wolves are twitchy.
The witches are uneasy; a few have already left. ”
Layla blew on her tea, “Two of the Prairie Coven left in the night,” she said, “and one of Juneau’s. All three left notes at Thistlehouse and slipped out before breakfast.”
Dani’s shoulders stiffened. “Lavinia didn’t say.”
“She’s busy keeping the other witches calm,” Layla said. “No one blames the ones who go. It’s a big ask, all of this.”
Chase leaned on the bar, lowering, “Alex is in town,” he said. “Northpoint Nordan crew hit The Anchor an hour ago. He’s already made three comments about vampires and one about witches. I’ve got the over-under at forty minutes before Dom decks him.”