16. Caius
SIXTEEN
CAIUS
Cordelia will move against her within the week. I’d put money on it, if I were the betting kind—which, according to Rhodes’s meticulously kept ledger, I apparently am not allowed to be anymore after the last incident.
I spend the morning making calls instead. Quiet ones. The kind that don’t generate paperwork.
Three alphas owe me favors old enough to have interest accrued. I collect on all of them before noon, and by the time I’m done, there isn’t a council member in Mistvale who doesn’t know the wolves are watching how this plays out.
Let Cordelia try something in front of that.
Bram finds me sharpening a knife I don’t need sharpened and wisely says nothing about it.
“You could just tell her you’re handling it,” he offers instead. “The coven leader. She might appreciate the update.”
“She’d appreciate it less than she’d resent the implication that she can’t handle her own council.”
“Fair.” He considers. “So instead you’re just going to—what. Loom, supportively, from a distance?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Excellent plan. Very subtle.”
I ignore him, the way I ignore most unhelpful commentary, and spend the rest of the morning the way I’ve spent every morning since the claiming—thinking about her more than the schedule allows, and letting it happen anyway.
She woke up stronger than the night before. Steadier. I felt it in the way she held my hand this morning, no hesitation in her grip, no bracing for the wrongness her magic used to expect from itself.
Whatever Cordelia’s planning, she’s planning it against a woman who has finally stopped fighting her own power.
That’s not the coven leader Cordelia thinks she’s facing.
I sharpen the knife a little more than necessary, put it away, and go to make sure I’m standing where Anouk will be able to see me the moment she walks into that chamber.