Chapter 14 - Arthur
Arthur hit the door at a run.
Cold slammed into him, sharp and clean after the thick air of the Inn. Chase was lingering at the tree line, anxiety sparking from him.
“Where?” Arthur snapped.
“Clearing off by the north road,” Chase said, “Dominic’s territory line.”
Arthur’s wolf surged against his skin, ferocity building.
He’d been an idiot. God, he’d been an idiot.
Pride had led him to try and get one up on Dominic, to invite his enemy into his home.
It had been petty and short-sighted and the sort of thing his father would never have done.
In the chaos of the past few days, his head had been too wrapped up in Dani and Aurelia to give it a second thought.
He should have warned Dominic. Called off Leonid.
It was too late now. He could only hope this would not cost him, cost his pack, their fiercest ally.
He broke through the trees into the clearing, his wolf unfurling beneath his skin, just below the surface Ready to burst free at a second’s notice.
Volkhov wolves on one side, Volnoye on the other, two banks of bodies with a gap of ten paces between.
They were, thankfully, in human shape, though a few on both sides were ducked close to the ground, teeth bared, ready to attack.
Dominic stood at the center of his line, shoulders bunched, hands flexing and unflexing at his sides.
Opposite him, Leonid looked like a cat that had got the cream.
Tall, lean, golden hair falling in artless waves to his jaw, cheekbones sharp enough to cut on, he wore no coat despite the cold. Just a black shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His mouth curled in a lazy, cruel smile, eyes bright with a spark of delight.
“Dominic,” Arthur called, striding straight into the no-man’s-land before anyone could think to stop him.
Both lines shifted, attention snapping to him. The pressure of so many alphas’ focus hit like a physical thing.
Dominic’s head whipped round. Julian hovered to his left, still as a statue. Theodore lounged against a tree like he’d just wandered in for the show, but his posture was too careful, eyes too sharp.
On the other side, Leonid’s wolves leant forward, hungry.
Leonid’s grin widened when he saw Arthur.
“Arthur Wells!” he exclaimed. “You made it. I was beginning to think you’d let our brothers tear each other apart without you. Rude, considering the invitation.”
The words hit Dominic like a slap.
His gaze cut from Leonid to Arthur, slow and lethal. “Invitation?” he said, very softly.
Arthur’s stomach dropped.
He kept his face steady. “Leonid,” he said. “You weren’t due till tomorrow.”
“Traffic was light,” Leonid said, careless, “and when a Nordan Alpha sends such a charming letter asking for Volnoye's presence, who am I to be late?”
A low growl shuddered through the Volkhov line.
Julian’s eyes slid to Arthur, cold as the snow under their boots.
“You invited them?” Dominic asked. No temper yet. That was worse.
Arthur met his stare. “I didn’t invite them to your border,” he said. “I invited them to the summit. To the neutral ground we agreed. We need every pack that’s fought hybrids at the table—”
“You invited them,” Dominic repeated, speaking over him, “without telling me.”
The air tightened.
“You invited witches,” Arthur growled, “without telling me.”
“So this was, what, revenge?” Dominic said softly, dangerously.
Arthur didn’t reply, fists clenching at his side.
“Well, this is a pleasant greeting,” Leonid observed, amused. “Is this how you always conduct diplomacy? Threats and accusations? No wonder the hybrids are having such fun.”
One of the younger Volkhov wolves snarled and took a step forward. Theodore’s arm shot out, catching him hard in the chest.
“No,” Theodore said mildly, “we’re not doing that today.”
“Let him come,” one of Leonid’s males taunted, “we haven’t killed a Volkhov in, what, three years?”
“Three and a half,” another corrected, cheerfully.
Dominic’s control frayed. Rage bled into his eyes; his fingers flexed like he wanted to curl them around Leonid’s throat.
“You are not welcome on my land,” he said, each word bitten, “you were banished. After you lost to me. We called for allies, not vultures.”
Leonid pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Dom,” he said, “after everything we’ve been through.”
“Everything you put us through,” Dominic snarled, “how many died because you were hungry for power?”
Leonid’s smile sharpened, all teeth, “You drew first blood, Dominic. When you murdered your father. He was my uncle, my family.”
“He was a monster,” Dominic said, “and so are you.”
“A monster,” Leonid said softly, “that’s been invited into your home. How is sweet little Layla?”
Arthur broke in before Dominic could lunge. “Enough,” he said, “all of you.”
Chase moved up at his shoulder, easy swagger gone. The Nordan line fanned out, forming a third edge to the standoff, making the clearing into something like a warped triangle. Severney wolves appeared between the trunks opposite the witches, Rory at their head, Kiara shadowing him.
A shadow dropped from the trees with a muted thud near the Severney.
The man stood, coat dark, hair slicked back, expression politely bored.
Tall, slim, with a face that would have been forgettable if not for the wrongness in his stillness.
His name, Arthur remembered with irritation, was Casimir. A vampire.
“This is all very stirring,” Casimir said, “but my prince didn’t send me north to watch you all posture until the hybrids attack. Are we going to have an actual meeting, or should I report back that the wolves are too busy measuring…teeth to deal with the hybrid problem?”
Several wolves snarled at once.
Rory chuckled, leaning against a tree. “Has it occurred to any of you that we could…Oh, I don’t know, try working together?”
“You could have mentioned it,” Dominic said to Arthur, ignoring Rory. The last word cracked, like a bone under strain. “Before they crossed my border.”
“I didn’t expect them to show up early and make a bloody parade of it,” Arthur snapped. “I thought they’d wait for the formal summons.”
“You thought Leonid Volkhov would follow polite instructions,” Julian said coolly. “That was your first mistake.”
Leonid laughed. “Julian, don’t be cruel,” he said, “we both know Arthur’s very busy. New mate, new luna, old prejudices to unlearn. He can’t keep track of everything.”
Arthur’s wolf lunged at the mention of Dani. He forced it back with effort.
“Leave my mate out of your mouth,” he said, voice low.
“Tempting as it is to rise to that line,” Leonid said, “I didn’t come here to flirt with you, Wells.
Or to piss off Dominic. That’s just a delightful bonus.
I came because of the hybrids.” His gaze raked the assembled wolves, the vampire.
“You want to win this war? You need us. You don’t have to like it. ”
“We don’t,” Dominic growled.
“Where I’m from, we never have the luxury of liking everyone on our side,” Casimir murmured.
“Where you’re from,” Theodore said pleasantly, “you set up dinner parties and then eat the guests.”
Casimir smiled, thin. “Where I’m from, wolf, we recognize an existential threat when we see one. The hybrids aren’t just nibbling at strays anymore. They’re organized. Our best trackers have lost them twice. That should scare you more than it apparently does. It certainly scares the witches.”
A few wolves snarled at the mention of witchcraft, and Kiara scoffed, stepping forward. “So what? My people are well within their rights to sneak off in the night if they so please. Especially given how hostile some of our hosts can act. The majority of us will stand and fight.”
“Well said,” Rory said, stepping forward into the center of the miserable triangle, the Severney line parting to let him through. The winter light caught the copper in his hair, the spray of old scars across his knuckles.
“We all came because of the hybrids,” he said, voice deceptively mild, “because whatever’s behind them poses a very real threat to our existence. We didn’t come to replay the last century’s greatest hits.”
He looked at Leonid. “You and yours choose violence at every turn. Childish, really, but who can blame you given your history?”
Leonid’s smile didn’t falter, but something in it cooled.
Rory’s gaze shifted to Dominic. “And you and yours will never forgive them. Everyone here knows that, too.” He tipped his chin toward Arthur. “Nordan has one foot in each camp and a habit of making bad decisions under pressure.”
“Thank you for that,” Arthur muttered.
“Pleasure,” Rory said. “My point is, we can either stand here and scream at each other until the hybrids come and pick off whoever’s left, or we can do the thing we all said we’d do when we agreed to this summit and sit down like adults.”
“You make it sound very dull,” Leonid said.
“Good,” Rory replied, “means I’m on the right track.”
Silence stretched.
Snow creaked under someone’s boot. A crow called once, harsh and lonely, from a distant tree.
Dominic’s shoulders rose, fell.
He looked, for a moment, like he was going to tell Leonid exactly where he could shove his intel and his smug smile. His jaw worked. He closed his eyes briefly.
“This is still my land,” he said when he opened them again. “My town. My people.”
“Leonid Volkhov,” Julian said, stepping forward.
The very shadows seemed to move at his feet, pooling around him.
“Arthur is right, we need every scrap of information we can get if we want our children to live long enough to have children of their own.” His voice cooled, his dark eyes narrowing.
“But heed my words. You will stand down now. You will come to the hall tomorrow at nine, when we begin the formal session. You will not set one foot in Skymist proper without Volkhov and Nordan consent. Is that clear?”
Leonid regarded him with interest. “My offer still stands, Julian. A wolf like you would do well in my pack.”
“Is that a yes?” Julian asked in that same, spine-chilling tone.
Leonid’s gaze flicked past him, to Dominic, something unreadable passing between them.
“We will attend your little council,” Leonid said, “we will share what we know. And in return, you will respect us and our input.”
“You step out of line once,” Dominic said, “and I will kill you myself.”
“You can try,” Leonid said, smile returning, “it will be fun.”
Julian’s hand flexed at his side. Arthur knew that look; he was already plotting contingencies.
Arthur turned back to Dominic. “You have my apology,” he said, the words like gravel in his mouth. “I should have told you before I sent that letter. I thought…” He let the sentence tail off. There was no pretty way to finish it.
“You thought wrong,” Dominic said bluntly.
“Yes,” Arthur said, “I did.”
The admittance hung in the air between them, fragile.
For a moment, Dom simply looked at him. Then some of the tightness eased out of his shoulders.
“We’ll deal with it in the hall,” he said, “not in front of Volnoye.”
Arthur nodded once.
“Dom,” Theodore said quietly, “your wolves are getting twitchy.”
It was true. Volkhov's shoulders trembled, claws half out, eyes hot. Leonid’s wolves mirrored them, ears pricked, poised on the edge of blood. Nordan weren’t much better.
Rory clapped his hands once, startling more people than he should have.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, “Volnoye are going to walk back over that ridge to whatever hole they’ve claimed for themselves this week.
Volkhov is going to retreat ten paces and remember they’ve got more important enemies than the idiots across from them.
Nordan are going to stop looking like they’d quite enjoy a three-way brawl and go back to doing tedious, necessary Nordan things.
And the vampire”—he nodded at Casimir—“is going to go drink something that isn’t my blood and write a nice report to his prince about how astonishingly restrained we all were. ”
Casimir inclined his head gracefully. “I can do all but the last,” he said. “I’m not paid enough to lie.”
“You are absolutely paid enough to lie,” Kiara muttered.
Casimir’s mouth twitched.
Dominic snorted despite himself, temper cracking just enough for air. “Fine,” he said. “Volkhov, back.” He jerked his chin. “Ten paces. Now.”
His wolves obeyed. Habits of a lifetime. The line peeled back, leaving the border stones clear.
Leonid watched them with lazy amusement, then clicked his tongue.
“Volnoye,” he said. “Let’s not scare the nice wolves more than we have to. We’ll save our charm for the council.”
His wolves fell in behind him, some with obvious reluctance.
Leonid paused as he passed Arthur, leaning in just enough that only the Nordan Alpha could hear.
“Thanks for the invite, Arthur.”
Arthur held his gaze, unblinking, “You lay a hand on anyone in my town, I’ll tear your spine out through your throat.”
Leonid’s grin made his wolf want to bite. “Promises, promises,” he said, then strolled away, his pack flowing after him like a shadow.
The clearing slowly uncoiled.
Volkhov wolves began to drift back toward town, some casting uneasy glances at the tree line where the Volnoye had retreated.
Chase blew out a breath. “Well,” he said, sotto voce, “that went terribly.”
“We got out without blood,” Arthur muttered, “could have been worse.”
“Give it a chance,” Chase said, “it’s only been, what, an hour?”
Arthur grumbled something vaguely insulting under his breath, and Chase set off with a grin, some of the Nordan wolves falling into line behind him.
Pausing a moment, Arthur looked down at the snow beneath his boots. Slowly, his gaze tracked upwards, to the tips of the pines, to the mountains beyond.
They were out there somewhere. The hybrids. They threatened everything Arthur held dear. His pack. His town. His territory.
His mate and child.
A fierce growl bubbled in his chest, and he shook his head violently. No. No, he couldn’t afford to get lost in his instincts. He needed to keep his head on straight.
But still. He could feel her at the other end of the bond, anxious and waiting for him. Without thinking, his feet started moving towards her.
“Witch,” he muttered into the cold air, “what spell have you put on me?”