Chapter 48 — Ethan #2
In the far corner, musicians launch into a driving rhythm.
The drums start first: a heartbeat pulse that vibrates through the stone floor and up through the soles of my boots.
Then, fiddles layer over the top with bright, spinning melodies that tangle together and pull apart like sparring partners.
The music is nothing like anything I’ve heard back home.
It’s wilder, rougher, built for people that move faster and live harder than humans.
Lycans and Shaman alike rise from their benches. Some drift toward the food. Others pair off and move toward the open space at the center of the hall, feet already stomping in time with the drums.
I weave through the crowd until I find Rhiannon at her post near the dais, scanning the room with those golden-brown eyes for every potential threat.
“Commander.” I stop in front of her, offering my hand. “Any chance you can take a break from guarding the peace long enough to dance with me?”
Rhiannon’s gaze slides to Conan, then across the dais to Akila. Akila’s expression softens, a quiet smile spreading as she nods once.
Conan’s grin stretches ear to ear. He squares his shoulders and faces forward, chin lifted with exaggerated importance. “We got this, Commander.”
Rhiannon exhales through her nose. Her eyes find mine again, and the firelight catches the gold in them.
“One dance.” She takes my hand.
Her fingers close around mine, and I pull her into the moving crowd. The fiddles climb into a minuet that’s fast and reckless, and I spin her once, catching the flash of surprise in her eyes before she matches my pace stride for stride.
“Finally not ashamed to be seen in public with me, eh?”
Rhiannon’s laugh breaks free, bright and joyful, cutting straight through the music and the sounds of the crowd and every terrible thing we endured to get here.
“Fortunately for you, I have no shame.”
We’re halfway through our second dance when the music dies, stopping cold. The crowd stills, conversations dropping away in a ripple that spreads from the dais outward.
Xander stands at the front of the platform, back straight, chin raised, every inch the Alpha. But his fingers tap against his thigh. A subtle tell I’ve noticed over weeks of watching him command rooms. He’s nervous about something.
And if there’s one thing Xander hates, it’s being unsure about anything.
Behind him, Mahal stands motionless in ceremonial robes that pool around his feet like liquid silver.
“My pack, your attention,” Xander calls out. “Our Head Seer has received a royal proclamation that must be read immediately.”
Mahal steps forward, his ancient eyes sweeping the hall. In his hands, a scroll sealed with crimson wax bears a sigil I can’t make out from this distance, but I already know who it’s from.
The Alpha King.
My stomach drops.
The summit is over. They signed the treaty. There’s no reason to keep the human around anymore.
Rhiannon’s fingers find mine, her grip broadcasting what her face won’t show. She’s already running the same calculations I am, and every one of them ends with me being dragged out of Clarion, or worse.
I squeeze back.
Mahal breaks the seal. The crack of wax echoes through the silent hall like a bone snapping.
He unrolls the parchment slowly, as if unveiling a lost relic. His eyes quickly traverse the lines once before his voice settles over the chamber.
“By the authority of His Majesty, Alpha King Leon, Sovereign of Clarion and Ruler of the Realm,” Mahal begins, his voice rolling through the hall like distant thunder, “the Royal Seers of Clarion do hereby declare the following...”
He pauses. The silence is so complete I can hear the crackle and pop of the wall-mounted torches.
“The Moon Goddess, in her infinite wisdom, has named the human, Ethan Langley of the Outer Lands, an official Seer of the Crescent Pack.”
Thea’s gasp cuts through the hall, sharp and loud enough that it shifts every eye toward her for a moment.
Rhiannon’s grip tightens around my hand. I turn to her and find her burning golden-brown eyes locked onto me, her lips parted, staring at me like I just grew a second head.
I can’t manage a single word, not even through our mind-link. My brain has stalled out completely.
Mahal continues, his tone steady and even as if he hasn’t just dropped a bomb in the center of the room.
“Under the direct supervision of Head Seer Mahal, and with the full protection of Alpha Xander, Ethan of the Outer Lands shall be required to serve as Truth Seer in disputes, trials, and negotiations in Kortan.”
Truth Seer. A nickname given to me by Jayme, now a formal title inked onto a royal scroll, with the Alpha King’s seal?
“Due to the nature of his origin, Truth Seer Ethan shall be restricted in travel until such time that the Alpha King deems suitable. Any movements beyond a day’s journey outside of Kortan must be approved by the Royal Seers.
In all other regards, he is to be recognized with the full authority and privileges of a Seer of the Crescent Pack. So it is written, so it is decreed.”
Mahal lowers the parchment. Four hundred eyeballs stare at me.
My thoughts scatter like dropped marbles on a tile floor. I search the dais until I find Xander.
He meets my gaze. Holds it. And nods once with certainty.
Is this really happening?
Mahal rolls the parchment into a tight cylinder with both hands. His penetrating eyes that see straight through bone and bullshit find me in the crowded hall.
I’m still not quite processing any of this yet.
“Truth Seer Ethan.” The title sounds different coming from him.
It’s weightier somehow, like his voice is carving it into stone instead of air.
“You now carry the privilege and the gravity of serving this pack on behalf of the Moon Goddess. May you honor the calling she has placed upon you with a just mind and a steady heart.” He inclines his head as if checking with the Goddess herself that he covered everything.
Then, he pronounces, “So it is declared.”
I open my mouth, then close it again and bow instead, because my voice has apparently packed its bags and left the building.
“Let’s hear it for the Truth Seer!” Conan’s voice explodes from the base of the dais, his fist punching the air with enough force to rip his stitches. He winces and grab his injured side again.
The sound of cheers surges through the hall. “Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!”
The pack roars with glasses lifted high, voices thundering off stone walls, and the gathered Shaman applaud.
Rhiannon crashes into me. Her arms lock around my neck and she pulls me against her so hard my feet nearly leave the floor. There’s no hesitation, no glancing around to see who’s watching.
“Ethan, you can stay.” Her voice brushes against my ear, threatening to crack on the final word.
And it hits me.
I’m not in limbo anymore. No longer paralyzed on borrowed time.
I have a home. A title. A job that isn’t borrowed from someone stronger or faster or more powerful. I have a purpose that is wholly, uniquely mine, borne from the Moon Goddess’s faith in me. And, to top it all off, I’m mated by fate to a formidable warrior.
I lean back just enough to meet Rhiannon’s gaze, her eyes glistening with tears.
I belong here.
Yes, of course you do.
My eyes burn. I bury my face in her hair and hold on.
Thea reaches us first, with Xander two steps behind. She throws her arms around both of us, her pregnant belly pressing against us, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
Her embrace loosens as she steps back to face me.
“I knew it.” Thea laughs through a sob. “I knew it!”
Xander pulls me into a solid embrace, one arm hooking across my shoulders, the way I’ve seen him greet his most trusted guards.
“Welcome to the pack, Truth Seer.”
“Thank you, Alpha.” A startling thought slips out before I can stop it. “Wait, do Seers have to be celibate?”
Thea and Rhiannon exchange glances before dissolving into laughter together.
“Of course not!” Thea says.
Xander’s laughing. Thea’s crying. I’m crying. Even Rhiannon’s crying. We’re four people who have every reason to be tougher than this, standing in the middle of a packed hall, falling apart together.
I laugh with pure unbounded gratitude — wet and broken and so full it hurts.
I belong here. I’m finally home.