Chapter 26 Gracie
Gracie
“Ravik Gentry, welcome,” the steward at the door said. His purple linens were fitted with gold buttons and a crest on the lapel, similar to the staff moving about the castle but elevated. His expression was polite but firm, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Alpha Waylon knows we’re here, I assume?” Ravik asked, pulling me gently into his side.
“Yes, he is expecting you. Please follow me.”
With those words, the jewels embedded in the wood glowed with light and the doors opened in one sweep, giving way to a stunning hall.
The room was filled to the brim with people who barely noticed the doors had opened. They laughed and moved about the space, some even dancing to the music. None of them seemed in awe of the space they were in, but I had no idea how.
The hall was a very long room that peaked at the top, the walls covered in bone and wood, and from the rafters hung crystal chandeliers of purple and gold that cast stunning rays of light onto the floor.
Castle staff carried food from table to table, the seated faces smiling and happy to receive more.
I felt completely underdressed in my tactical clothing.
Every woman and man present was dressed in heavy, expensive clothes and jewelry.
From their power signatures I could tell that, no matter who else lived in the territory, everyone here was a dragon shifter—down to the castle staff.
The bones that formed the structure of each room may have felt eerie at first, but the joy and ease of the people filling the space made it feel anything but.
There was a formality, sure. I could see it in the guests’ polite and polished mannerisms. But the atmosphere was relaxed and so incredibly happy.
I didn’t even move forward at first, just soaking it all in.
I hadn’t expected this at all.
“At the back, in the center,” Ravik said, and I realized he was pointing out where Alpha Waylon was. I nodded as the steward led us forward. People offered us curious looks but otherwise went about their celebration.
Was it a celebration? Or was this just a normal lunch for them?
Before the crowd shifted, I caught a glimpse of Waylon already in conversation. He was leaning toward whoever was speaking as though what they were saying genuinely mattered to him.
Then a break in the crowd made it easy to fully lay eyes on the dragon shifter. On a raised platform, a few steps off the ground, he sat with a woman who appeared to be around his same age.
Thornar let out an amused sound. “They don’t look bad for being a few thousand years old.”
A thousand or more? My eyes widened as I looked over Waylon and his possible mate.
Just like the last time I’d seen him, he looked to be only in his mid-fifties, his angular face carrying almost no wrinkles except around his eyes and mouth.
Green scales covered his olive-toned cheekbones, and his black hair was loose, hanging down to his waist against his purple robes.
There was a confidence to the way Waylon held himself that wasn’t arrogance so much as the quiet certainty of a man who felt he had never done wrong. That he’d always made the right choice. Whatever that meant.
“Who are all of these people?” I asked.
“Family. He and his mate have upwards of forty children, and naturally some of those have children of their own,” Thornar said.
“Forty?” My voice came out almost choked. Basir shook his head, seeming to find it just as insane as I did while Thornar flashed me a smile.
“You don’t want forty kids, Gracie? You sure?”
I nearly wheezed, breaking into laughter. I shook my head immediately because the idea of children, while appealing in theory, was not on my immediate horizon. Freeing Thornfell of Ivan had first place firmly and tightly in its grasp.
Now that he’d mentioned it, though, I could absolutely see how they were family. I could see it in the young and old alike, their facial features similar and their mannerisms even more so, and at the center of it all were Waylon and his mate.
Queen would probably have been a better title for her, though.
Her head was tilted back in laughter, her black hair shimmering under the colored lighting.
Much like Waylon, she had scales on her face, and I was starting to think it was a show of power.
None of the children had them, but many of the older adults did.
It also couldn’t be understated how different this was from even the Ironsun Pack, and a universe away from the Cold Moon Pack.
No one feared Waylon here. They viewed him as a leader, yes, but they didn’t fear him.
Maybe those outside these walls did, but not the people he surrounded himself with daily.
I was fascinated by how you even kept track of a family this large!
Although I supposed my family was growing every day as well.
The steward brought us past the crowds, and Waylon turned his dark gaze on us. His mate did the same, offering me a friendly smile. I felt a weird sense of misplaced guilt. Was it uncomfortable for me to be here? Ivan had tried to sell me to Waylon—she had to know that, right?
“Ravik Gentry!” Waylon exclaimed. “You’ve arrived, and you brought friends!”
“It’s good to see you, Alpha Waylon. My father says hello.” Ravik offered him a nod of greeting, his hand tightening around my waist protectively. I could feel Basir and Thornar on either side of us.
Waylon made his way down toward us, his mate still talking to a woman standing next to her. “How is your father?”
“Good. Busy as ever.” Ravik chuckled, not giving any hint to his father’s diminishing health. “You’ve met my Beta and Enforcer, Thornar and Basir? And this is our mate, Gracie.”
Waylon let out a hum of understanding. “I thought I recognized this young lady. You were accompanying Ivan Rivers last time.”
“Yes. I was living in the Cold Moon Pack territory.”
Waylon’s gaze searched my face, and his expression softened. “I’m glad to see you’re no longer in his care. I heard how he treated you at the conference—what you endured—through my operatives. You deserve better than that.”
Emotion welled in me at his sincerity. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
His gaze moved over my mates before settling back on me. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but once I rejected Ivan’s suggestion…how do I put this politely… Were your mates involved in the arrangement Ivan had in mind for you?”
Ravik’s chest rumbled at the insinuation. I shook my head, feeling a defensive bristle rise out of my wolf. In theory I appreciated him checking, but he hadn’t worried about the effects of his rejection at the TTC, so why now?
Before traveling from territory to territory, a question like the one he’d posed would have left me overwhelmed and flustered, certain I had done something wrong.
This time I felt composed, because I knew the truth and felt confident in it.
More than that, I no longer feared every person I came across who held power.
I was slowly learning that I had my own.
“No.” It was a firm and sincere answer, my voice steady. “They were the reason I got out. I met them at the trade conference and they came to save me from the Cold Moon Pack.”
I knew I didn’t need to explain past a no, but I wanted that thought corrected.
My mates said nothing. I could feel that they were proud of my answer but still stung by the question. After a moment of weighing my answer, Waylon nodded and looked at them.
“I hope you understand why I needed to ask,” he said evenly. “We don’t tolerate anything like that in Stark Flight.”
“And I insisted on knowing,” Waylon’s mate said as she floated down toward us, offering me a soft and understanding look. “You must be Gracie Holloway. I’m Waylon’s mate, Bishu.”
Now I was nervous.
I offered her a smile of greeting as she continued, “Alpha Haiden contacted me and told me you’d be coming. She said you were the one to listen to.” The compliment melted my nerves away.
“It’s wonderful to meet you. I do hope you’ll listen to what we have to say,” I said.
“Speaking of that.” Waylon glanced over our shoulders, and I noticed the eyes on us, the interested murmurs carrying across the hall. “They are much too interested in what’s going on up here.”
“Very nosy bunch,” Bishu mused. “Let’s retire to the private sitting room.”
“Lead the way,” Ravik suggested.
The room they led us into was simpler and more homey than the hall, cushioned surfaces and incense filling the space.
Fresh air drifted in on a breeze from an open window that faced the ocean, and I fought the urge to walk over and breathe it in properly.
When Waylon and Bishu motioned for us to join them at a round table, I sat as close to that window as I could manage.
“We were surprised you risked coming here,” Waylon admitted. “We heard what happened at the border, the envoy we lost before you arrived. I assume the issue was taken care of?”
“Yes,” Thornar said. “But with it came a larger one. The Blazefur Pride is assisting them.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Bishu said. “Chace has always been a prick.”
My eyes widened at her unexpected language, but I tried to hide it by nodding in agreement. I was gathering that there was a general consensus on the man. Waylon offered her an amused look before his gaze roamed over all of us.
“You’re here to pull us into a war.”
“Yes,” I answered resolutely, feeling as though this was the moment I needed to be most vocal. “I’m not sure how much Alpha Haiden explained, but what we’re facing with Ivan isn’t just a threat to the neighboring territories. It’s a threat to all of Thornfell.”
“She didn’t explain much,” Bishu conceded.
“Ivan and Graeme don’t have the numbers to counter even one of our military branches,” Waylon said. “I don’t understand how he can be a threat. We will need you to paint us a picture.”
“He’ll have even fewer people soon,” Ravik said, “because he’s planning to sacrifice all of them in a ritual during the full moon.”
That seemed to hit a chord. The two of them exchanged a look before Waylon sat back. “The Stark Flight is a deeply spiritual territory. After thousands of years it’s the one thing I’ve learned will survive any war—the belief in the unknown.”
“So war and territory disputes don’t worry us,” Bishu agreed. “This ritual, though—that does worry me. What does he hope to accomplish?”
“For a decade now, he’s performed monthly sacrificial rituals to Nyxarra,” Basir explained. “He hopes to sacrifice thousands for the same goal. To amass power.”
“We believe he thinks it will allow him to ultimately subjugate more people to his rule and expand outward,” Ravik said, “but that type of power…”
“Can’t be left unchecked.”
Both of the leaders nodded at my answer.
After a moment, Waylon tilted his head. “There is more to this picture that we’re not seeing. Why would one of The Eight accept that type of sacrifice? We’ve spoken with the six named, and I cannot see them accepting that.”
Of course they had. Anything less from a thousand-year-old dragon would have felt strange.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “There is more, but it’s hard to explain and even harder to know who we can trust with the information. What we can say is that the ritual has to be stopped. We want you to help us make that happen.”
I hadn’t expected to sound so certain of it. But I was.
Waylon let out a low hum and looked up at the ceiling. “Trust. I understand your qualms. But if we are to be allies, we need to know exactly what threat lies before us. Other Alphas may be content with the non-spiritual, but my mate and I don’t make decisions without full knowledge and guidance.”
“I have a suggestion,” Bishu said. “You feel as though you can’t speak the words to tell us, but what if they were read? In Stark Flight, our spiritual counsel comes through a high priestess directly connected to Yvelis. Our god is the foundation for everything here.”
“You want your priestess to do a reading?” I asked.
Ravik tightened his hand around mine. I could feel the unease through the bond as I turned the idea over, but my mates had apparently decided to let me take the reins for this meeting.
It filled me with pride to know they trusted me with such a vital piece of the mission, but it was also intimidating. What if I chose wrong?
At face value, I felt as though I could trust Waylon and Bishu, and I was starting to rely on my instincts.
At the same time, we had no idea who was listening to our conversation.
A high priestess, though, would probably be able to feel what was going on.
To sense the danger associated with the scale of Ivan’s planned ritual, even if we didn’t feel comfortable putting it into words.
“Yes,” Bishu said, disappearing through a door on the other side of the room.
Waylon spoke with my mates, but I found myself standing to walk to the window.
It wasn’t something I’d normally do, feeling bound to my seat in these talks, but everything could come together or fall apart in the next few minutes.
We hadn’t told them about Nyxarra—not the truth of it—or Vaelithra.
It was clear they had a relationship with the gods and probably knew of the unnamed ones as well.
A reading could do so much more than give the priestess an understanding of the scale of our problem.
It could reveal everything, all at once, including who we were trying to keep imprisoned.
My gaze moved out over the ocean as I let my mind drift to what Ravik had told me about the other continents out there. It was a nice distraction from my nerves…at least until the door opened again.
In my life, I’d been around my fair share of high priestesses, but not a single one had a power signature like the woman walking through the door behind Bishu. My head snapped to her, but her black gaze was already on me.
I turned my body toward her as she paused in the doorway, looking around the room. Her pupils were completely absent, her icy face half-covered in silver scales. Her hair was bone white and her robes were black, the contrast stark against the comfortable room around her.
“This is Tashmin, High Priestess of the Temple of Yvelis.”
My mates acknowledged her but she was still looking at me.
The pressure in the air grew heavier, as though she took up ten times more space than she actually occupied.
My wolf curled inward as the woman took a step closer, her robes shifting to reveal white bony feet, her nails black.
I swallowed. I could hear the others talking quietly around me, but I was having trouble focusing.
Something pulled at the edges of my mind.
“Child of shadows and moonlight. You’ve come.”