Chapter Thirty-Three
Caleb
Ican’t believe she came.
And by the paled skins of the council, neither did they. Taya and Sam, on the other hand, look rather pleased. Everyone stands until she takes her seat.
My mom looks put together. More than I’ve seen her in a long time. She always used to take pride in her appearance.
“Gentlemen,” she says. “Please, be seated.” Everyone sits. “It is my understanding we are here to talk about my son’s choice of mate.”
“Yes. Medein Rosa, an elemental witch from the Zagaia’s Coven,” a councilman answers. “A fine choice. In elements, her magic is mostly rooted to the earth with erosion being her specialty, but we all know covens sometimes mingle with others.” He elbows Sam at his crude joke.
Sam, surprisingly not entertained by his behavior, growls until the guy stops touching him.
Once distance is established, he scowls as he brushes off his shoulder. The man clears his throat and continues. “What I mean is, her heritage has sometimes dabbled into the air community. Which is how Medein can also manipulate wind.”
The councilman slides Medein’s file over to Mom, who begins flipping through its contents. She looks up at me, astonished and confused. “A witch? You want to mate a witch?”
Instantly, she doesn’t approve. It’s not who either of us pictured, least of all me. “She would be good for the pack.”
“And I admire that intention, but, honey, I’m far more interested in what is good for you. Mating is for life. It’s a big decision. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”
Before I can answer, Taya chimes in. “Yeah, Caleb. I mean, Medein is great, and any guy would be lucky to have her as a mate, but . . . for a wolf, a witch is an inconvenient choice.”
“Inconvenient? What do you mean?” my mother asks.
I shut my eyes tightly.
Crap. I was hoping we could skip this part. She’s not going to like this at all.
“I was saying in general that choosing a mate is a big decision. What’re you talking about?” My mother’s anxiety is going haywire.
Crossbreeding between species is still a new concept, and my mother has been out of commission. There have been plenty of conversations she has opted out of by not showing up. I was hoping she wouldn’t find this part out until after the decision was approved.
Taya looks at me, wide-eyed and disappointed. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” My mother whips her head to me. “Caleb, what are they talking about?”
I rub my forehead.
Sam clears his throat. “He won’t be able to complete the mating process.”
My mother’s eyes glaze over, and she slumps back in her chair at the news, like it has hit her full force. “What do you mean?”
“He can’t bite her. It’ll kill her. The best we can do is a spiritual bond ceremony where he would be recognized by ancestors of power,” Sam answers.
My mother shuts the file. “This is a big decision. I will need some time to discuss this with my son. We will need to reconvene at a later time.”
A council member pipes up.
“I’m sorry, but the Zagaia Coven is eager for a response. I’m afraid if we don’t provide them with an answer soon—”
“If it is my son she wants, she will gladly wait.”
“We don’t know this for certain. Your pack does not have the leverage it used to in making negotiations.
A lot of the marital options presented to your son arrived under the impression that your resources were bountiful and civilization and agriculture thriving.
After having them all here, I’m sure they are starting to put the pieces together that this is not the case.
It’s only a matter of time before you lose all interest—”
“Then, Goddess help us all that his fated mate appears.”
“We can’t bank on that, Mom,” I say.
“I’m not ready to make a decision. I haven’t even met this woman,” my mother scoffs.
I clench my teeth at the implication that my mate is her decision. She hasn’t been around for my present and my recent past, and now she wants to decide my future? It’s infuriating.
“The best we can do right now is give her coven a deadline, a date by which to expect our decision. When do you need one?”
My mother’s eyes bore into me. And if it wasn’t a bad look for us, she’d smack me in the back of the head.
Taya chimes in. “We can give you until the next full moon.”
I silently thank her.
The councilman shakes his head, displeased.
He then laughs off Taya’s statement like a child who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
The tension between the council and the crown deteriorates with every meeting.
There’s a struggle for power. And I’m wondering just how long until the council realizes they are not going to win.
“Forgive Taya, she’s new at this.”
“Excuse me?” Taya, clearly offended by their audacity, furrows her brows.
Sam, immediately sensing her displeasure, scoots out of his chair, ready to come to her defense. But Taya always had a knack for dealing with egotistical men—my beta being one of them once upon a time. I’ll never forget how she embarrassed Tyler for the rumors he spread about her.
Taya places her arm on Sam.
He stops and sits back down, registering that she wants to handle the matter.
“I think you’re out of line, council. I also do not appreciate you interpreting my decision—one that I have complete authority to make under the crown—as a mere suggestion. I don’t need you asking for forgiveness on my behalf. I don’t need it. But I will give you the chance to ask it of me.”
“The Hunt is quickly approaching, and it is tradition that the alpha and luna lead the unmated prospects to Crescent. At this rate, there will not be time for a mating ceremony. Not to mention the witches are not going to be happy about this.”
“You mean to say you aren’t happy about this. I haven’t been given any impression that the witches were on any sort of timeline . . .” Taya looks at Sam. “Have you?”
Sam glares at the councilman, and his teeth grind even more visibly than before. Pissed, he grits, “No . . . I haven’t.”
Uh oh.
Sam stands and adjusts his shirt. Although, everything about his attire is in order. I conclude he’s keeping his hands busy to stop himself from punching the man for having information the crown doesn’t have.
“Tell me, council. Have you been meeting with the Coventry to discuss matters without the crown’s knowledge?”
The councilman blurts, “I—er . . . no. Of course not. I just mean—”
“Because you know that it would be inexcusable to negotiate and discuss such confidential matters with the most powerful species without the permission of the crown.”
Shit.
Taya leans back. “You know what I think?”
“What angel?” Sam asks.
“I think he’s got some sort of stake in this deal. And I think that’s why he’s pushing for an answer.”
“Hmmm,” Sam savors the explanation.
“That’s absurd. I would never. This is just not how things are done, is all.”
I don’t believe him. And judging by the look on everyone else’s face, no one else does, either.
“The old ways have not been working, have they, Council?” Taya points out.
I’ve never heard her take such a tone. She’s always taken the high road and handled things with grace. Confrontation wasn’t her strong suit, but this version of her has a backbone. I’m proud of her.
The councilman, however, seems offended. “How dare you? I have served on this panel for twenty-five years. Longer than you’ve been alive. And you think because some old, outdated code section says so, that you all can change hierarchy just like that? It’s preposterous. Absolutely preposterous.”
His ramble indicates he’s been holding this in for a while. It’s been apparent that the council has been frustrated by the personnel changes, but he’s the first to speak on them. And judging by the glare Sam is giving him, he’ll be the first to die for it.
Sam rolls up his sleeves but allows the man to continue with such a disrespectful tone toward his mate.
“You”—he points to Taya, who blinks at the unexpected finger in her face yet remains stoic—“know nothing! I watched you grow into the petulant little brat you are today.”
Taya, who is not fazed by his tone at all, sits back with patience and attention. She knows it’s only a matter of time until Sam acts.
My mother and I scoot our chairs away from the man.
The next thing I know, the councilman’s body drops. Sam is coated in the guy’s blood.
Taya takes a tissue from the table and wipes the blood splatter from his face.
“Thank you, angel,” he says to her. “You ready?”
“Mhm,” she says to him.
Sam looks to me. “What my mate says, stands. Talk it over. Let us know.”
“Thank you,” my mother says.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get someone to come clean this up,” Taya says.
Hand in hand, Sam and Taya leave the conference room.
Once the room is empty and the door is shut, my mother stands. “I don’t like this.”
I stand as well and look at the guy bleeding out on our floor. “It’s fine. They said they’ll get someone to come clean it up.”
“Not that. The witch. You can’t be with her.”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“I won’t give you my blessing to be in some mateless arrangement. What about the other options? Was there not a suitable wolf among them?”
In truth, there may have been. Any paled in comparison to the one in my own bed.
I couldn’t choose another wolf—not with my true mate alive.
It would be too hard. It’s one thing to choose a mate without knowing who your fated one is.
Neither of you know and there’s no predisposed attachment or bond.
If I marked another wolf who was not Jay, we’d always know.
The bond with a chosen mate would solidify, but the attachment to my fated would always be there.
It’d just appear as grief, like the loss of a loved one, or in this case, what could have been.
And my wolf and I would share this pain at the same time every year.