Chapter Eleven
Rhael
The pack house didn't recognise me anymore. It smelled wrong. All of the fond memories from my younger years faded and filled with the new feeling of judgement.
Every decision I had made since crossing over into Lycanthyr had felt measured, controlled. Nothing like the young boy who spent his summers here, running wild with friends through halls that had felt like a second home.
The long hall stretched before me, massive beams carved from ancient trees, the ceiling high enough to swallow sound and return it.
Pelts lined the walls, some fresh, some old enough to have been there before even I could remember.
Lights danced across the runes I had once traced with my fingers, years before I became King.
In a few hours this space would be full of wolves, all dining on a feast designed to test me, and I would have to brave it all or die. Death, for me, was not an option. Not yet.
I had not been here without Averan until this visit. My brother's voice haunted me more this time than it had done before. His absence lingered like a ghost at my shoulder, memories threatened to overwhelm me, it made everything so much harder.
“You look like you belong here,” Averan had told me during one, more enjoyable, visit.
“That is because he is less courtly like you and has more teeth like me.” Magnus had joked whilst clapping his hand over my brother's shoulder. At the time he had not been wrong, I had felt more at home in the wild kingdom of the wolves than I did in my own castle.
However, that had changed now. I was different, older, more used to the workings of the Fae Court than I had ever thought I would need to be.
That wild streak had died with my brother. Now I had to be strong, calculated, cold to the memories I had once sworn to hold so dear. It would be the death of who I once was, but I would push myself to make it work. I had to.
Magnus waited for me at the far end of the hall, standing near the central hearth with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His dark braids caught the firelight. Tattoos curled over his forearms, old runes marking him as both an Alpha and a King.
“Rhael,” my old friend greeted. His tone was rough as stone dragged across bones. No longer did he look at me like a friend, but as opposition, expecting me to beg and grovel for his acceptance.
“Magnus, once again I thank you for hearing me out,” I responded, stopping several paces away. Close enough for us to speak, far enough to avoid provoking him.
Once, we stood shoulder to shoulder in this hall. Planning campaigns, trading insults and sharing drinks like brothers, who did not share a mother but might as well have.
Now there was only distance, all of my own creation. Each betrayal I had committed had been a bridge that I had decided to burn. Knowingly, willingly. I never thought I would have to rebuild them. Yet here I was, ready to do just that.
“You bring strange things into my home,” he murmured, looking me up and down before his eyes darted back to the door behind me, gesturing towards the bedroom area where I had left Elara waiting for me.
I frowned, ever so slightly, feeling my lips turn downward, the metal of my lip ring tugging at the skin. Of all the things I had wanted to discuss, she was not one of them.
“I bring the truth,” I said, moving through the room to sit in one of the chairs off to the left. It wasn't as comfortable as the ones in my home, but it would do for the discussion we needed to have. I did not wait for Magnus’ permission.
In my own mind I didn't need to. Even if I was not in my kingdom, I was a King in my own right and I did not need to wait for anyone's permission.
“Then please, speak,” Magnus smirked, raising his eyebrows as I sat but he did not mention it further. As if he was finally seeing the new dynamic between us.
For so long he had always seen me as Averan’s brother, the brother not meant to be King. The warrior instead of the crown. However, now we stood on equal footing, both kings in our own right and he could look down on me no longer.
“Something is moving between our borders, they have become more organised. My borders have been raided and left to ash, and your welcoming of my visit tells me you have experienced it too,” I explained.
Being open and honest with my words, trying to be as clear as possible. I was not there as a threat. I was trying to do the right thing.
“The vampires are on the move again,” Magnus sighed looking over at me, pity flickered in his eyes. Pity I did not want nor appreciate.
“Yes.” I ground out the single syllable breaking through the air like a glass hitting the cold floor.
The confirmation sat heavy between us. Noctharis had always been the rot in our lands. The vampires themselves were too weak to leave their stronghold, but they had other creatures to do their dirty work for them.
It was pathetic really, but they were still a threat, and after their last attack on my kingdom I was not prepared to turn a blind eye.
“I will admit, there have been more disturbances of late, members of my pack have gone missing. Other creatures have reported kidnappings. Some of them are children,” Magnus admitted, sitting in the chair opposite from me. His hands rested on the large table that separated us.
My hands curled into fists, I knew the feeling that I could see reflected in Magnus’ eyes. Helplessness, there was nothing worse than a King being unable to protect his people.
“They are testing us. Seeing who will be brave enough to stand up to them. As far as they are concerned, our alliance is fractured and both of us stand alone,” I explained, trying to keep my tone neutral.
I knew we were approaching dangerous territory where it could get tense, but I did not have time to waste.
“And you come to me, after killing a member of my pack all those years ago,” Magnus asked, the anger and pain in his voice more evident now. Another attribute of the wolves that I did not envy, their emotions were always displayed so clearly on their faces.
However, it did not change the fact that this was an impasse we would need to discuss. A wound that had always refused to scab over. Neither one of us was letting go.
“He broke the rules. The action was clear,” I explained, leaning forward in my seat, my shoulders squared as I tried to keep my voice level.
“He was reckless, but he did not deserve death,” Magnus argued and my back bristled as I tried to see some part of his logic, but in my head, stubborn as it may have been, I knew I was right.
“I had my reasons.” I replied simply, in a very similar tone I had used with Elara earlier that day. It was the easiest tone I could use when trying to sound disinterested.
“He did not deserve to die.” Magnus reiterated, his hands turned white as his fists tightened, his anger came to the forefront of his face.
“Neither did Averan, yet here I am fighting against the same damn enemy that killed him,” I sighed, my brother's name stinging my tongue like acid. I rarely used his name, but this was necessary.
Magnus had been Averan’s friend as well as mine. Our kingdom's original alliance had been built on the mutual trust between them. The Wolf King before me needed to understand. Averan was dead, I had taken his throne, and we were not the same.
“Your brother's death has changed you,” Magnus voice lingered in the realms of curiosity, his head tilting to the side, letting his braids fall over one shoulder. The same way he did when he was looking at something he was desperate to figure out.
“He trusted the wrong person. We both did,” I said, Averan’s smile filling my mind.
Boyish, trusting, dead.
“You speak as though trust is a weakness,” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he leant forward, his eyes meeting mine in a clash of wills.
“It is,” I shrugged as I moved to sit back in my seat. Letting my shoulders relax to give myself a look of composure, despite the pain and anger running through my veins. If there was one thing I was good at, it was hiding my emotions.
“Why should I help you? Why should I bring my wolves to a war for a King who already burned our bridge once?” He questioned and I felt my resolve harden. This was the question I knew we would get to.
“Because if you don't, by the time they are banging on your door, Vaetharyn will already be ash” I sighed, it was the honest, brutal, truth.
My kingdom would fall well before the wolves, but it did not make them safe. It would only make the vampires stronger and harder to stop.
“You were always so good at threats,” Magnus chuckled, looking down at his hands as he shifted his weight. The sound only came once, bitter.
“This isn't a threat. I am here being honest, trying to write the wrongs between us and make it so both our kingdoms survive.” I pulled my lip ring back in between my teeth, savouring the metallic taste against my tongue.
“Terms.” He said finally. Relief did not come even though it should have. Instead, tension tightened between us.
“We share intelligence, movements, raids, sightings. But your shadow scouts are not to cross my borders without permission. I do not want my information shared” I explained, making my boundaries clear, I would not tolerate the wolves using this alliance as a way to bolden themselves or strengthen their knowledge of my people or me.
“On my end, I do not expect you to interfere in pack justice, and should any of my wolves die in your war-” Magnus began, but I waved my hand away.
“They will be honoured in Vaetharyn. Names carved in stone. A blood debt repaid.” I interrupted, my stance was clear. I would not let any death go unhonoured. It wasn't in my nature.
“Fine. But you will not bring any of your Fae politics into my home. That manipulation is not welcome here.” Magnus relented and I could understand it. Neither of us was prepared to let the other in, not truly.
“Fine.” I accepted. Letting my body relax, thinking we had come to a concise, amenable solution.