Chapter 30
Fern
“Head Alpha Dane, my uncle and Kyntha’s father, is like Alpha Alastair without any of the humor.”
“Wait… but Alpha Alastair isn’t—”
Reinn nodded grimly. “Exactly.”
The Head Alpha of the Ironcoat Clan was impossible to miss, standing nearly a head taller than the other silver-haired wolfkin on the right side of the room.
Fern lowered her gaze, bowing her head to show her neck and dipping into a curtsy.
And then a wall of alpha scent hit her all at once.
She thought she was used to it by now, but the addition of the new alphas in the room, one of them the head of a clan large enough to rival the Sabletails, was overpowering her senses. Like drowning in strength, dominance, and wolf musk all at once.
Her knees weakened, and then failed, almost falling to the floor before Reinn was able to grab onto her arm.
“Fern, are you alright?”
The alphas all moved slightly, flinching to rise as though they had meant to cross the distance to help her themselves.
With embarrassment stinging her cheeks, she looked at the floor again, unable to meet any of their gazes. It was almost laughable how quickly she’d failed at this, too. “My deepest apologies, I just… I’m not accustomed to so many… so much…”
“Reinn!” Dane barked, the alpha next to her stiffening and waiting for the command. “Bring the omega to her chair already. Poor thing is about to pass out.”
Then he addressed Fern, his tone softening. “I’ve heard of the effect alphas can have on an omega. You mustn’t be ashamed, little one.”
She bowed her head again, murmuring her thanks, as Reinn guided her to the empty space on the other side of Darion.
Fern could already feel the displeasure coming off him like waves of heat from a roaring fire.
She knew her role today was simply to be a jewel in his crown—something to be admired briefly for its rarity and then ignored.
But she’d drawn far too much attention to herself, and now her worry was causing her scent to turn bitter.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Darion, already bracing for correction as his hand moved towards her, but it simply landed on the back of her neck, squeezed gently as a comfort, and then released her.
There was a lull. Fern wasn’t sure if she’d interrupted a conversation about to continue or if they’d been waiting to begin one, her entrance distracting them enough they’d forgotten themselves.
Karn then cleared his throat. “I would like to discuss our shared border along the Bloodmoons’ newly acquired territory.”
“His son and heir is Cyran. He defeated Darion in battle once and will never let him forget it. He also has three Naravekh and a pup from each of them, all surviving their first year.”
Three children wasn’t so unheard of for humans, but for wolfkin it was impressive, something certainly worth bragging about.
“I imagine he must be quite insufferable.”
Reinn rolled his eyes. “You have no idea.”
“There is little to discuss,” Cyran replied before anyone else could speak, lounging back in his chair. “The western ridge must be abandoned.”
Silence settled heavily across the room, and Darion’s expression hardened. “Abandoned?”
“It cannot be defended,” Cyran said.
Fern glanced carefully toward Darion, watching the muscle feather in his jaw. “It has been defended for nearly sixty years.”
Cyran lifted one shoulder lazily. “And now the Bloodmoons have siege forces twice the number they did sixty years ago. Even three years ago. Unless you mean to turn two thousand human men into Solvekh by the end of the year, but I believe their King might have something to say about that, especially since he still insists we had something to do with his missing prince. And then we’d have trouble on the Southern border, too. ”
Alastair folded his hands. “The ridge protects several villages.”
“Then evacuate them,” Cyran said simply. “Unless sentiment has become the Sabletails’ latest military strategy.”
Reinn caught Fern’s eye from across the table, and he smirked knowingly.
Darion continued. “Retreat invites pursuit.”
“Poorly defended positions invite slaughter,” Cyran replied. “You learned that yourself at Blackwater Ford, if memory serves.”
Fern did not know of the battle, but she knew an insult when she heard one, and her wolf seemed offended on Darion’s behalf.
Darion’s fingers tightened against the arm of his chair hard enough that the wood creaked, and Fern was glad he no longer held her neck.
“A fortuitous victory,” he said coldly.
Cyran smiled. “If you believe my victory was merely owed to good fortune, then it is no wonder you lost.”
“I wasn’t aware you controlled the weather, now.”
Cyran’s lips curled.
“And your father?” Fern asked.
Reinn snorted. “My father stopped caring years ago. The only way to get him to show up to anything is to promise there will be ale.”
Arnet snapped his fingers and a Solvekh approached, filling his goblet.
“My nephew is a decisive one, I’ll give him that. But let’s not forget the villages along the ridge produce the majority of the region’s hops. Ale production will suffer if we move them before the harvest.”
“Brother,” Dane said, rubbing his forehead. “If you have nothing important to add, perhaps you should retire early and leave the conversation to those who actually make decisions.”
Arnet took a sip, sighing. “I’d rather stay. The view has much improved in the past few minutes.” He winked at Fern, whose cheeks blushed and eyes fell back to the table.
Like father, like son.
“But the most dangerous wolfkin in the room will be Kyntha’s mother, Lady Katreena.”
“How so?”
“She is much more cunning than she lets on. Katreena has spent years turning the clans into her own personal game board, moving her family strategically. And after all of her maneuvering, she now stands poised to become the most powerful she-wolf in all the known territories, with her son as the heir to the Ironcoats and her daughter as the mate to the heir to the Sabletails. And you, my little sunbeam,” he said, tapping her on the nose, “are a piece she never accounted for, one that could easily surpass Kyntha’s position in the eyes of both Darion and the clan. She’ll want you gone.”
“But Kyntha already has Darion’s favor, and she will be his mate. I am no threat.”
“Oh, Fern…”
“Thank you, Alpha Arnet, for bringing up a topic that I think requires our attention today,” Katreena began, bowing her head and speaking softly.
She was lovely, with the same pale hair and skin as Kyntha, youthful enough she could have been mistaken for her sister rather than her mother. Her silk gown clung almost indecently to her curves, drawing the eye despite one’s best efforts to look away.
“I am… concerned about Alpha Darion’s choice in Naravekh.”
Alastair straightened in his seat. “My son has every right to choose a Naravekh. This is the way of wolfkin. Your own son has three.”
Cyran smiled to himself, and Katreena bowed again, deferring to his point. “I completely agree, Head Alpha Alastair. Only…”
Then she sighed, looking towards Dane as if asking for his permission to speak.
He dipped his chin, and then she turned back to face the group.
“To take a Naravekh while in the middle of a courtship is… well, it is as though Alpha Darion already suspects my daughter will fail in her duty to give him an heir, is it not?”
She waited a moment, carefully looking at each face around the table before landing on Cyran, placing a hand on his arm.
“My son took his Naravekh while he searches for a proper Lurvekh mate, and will dismiss them once he enters courtship. And Alpha Norden, did you not take a Naravekh only after your second pup with Lady Eilie was born still?”
Norden shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Aye,” he replied, a tinge of grief in his tone.
Katreena nodded again, affecting an expression similar to contrition, if Fern could believe the lady had ever actually experienced the emotion.
“It is of the utmost importance for a Lurvekh she-wolf to live as free from stress and pressure as possible when trying to conceive. But now she must compete with an omega born from humans?” She shook her head.
“Alpha Darion will unwittingly keep her barren by hedging his bets towards another. It is setting her up for failure.”
Fern almost laughed, swallowing to keep the sound from escaping. It seemed Darion had a strong habit of doing that to the women around him.
She might have even struck up a kinship with Kyntha over the deficiencies of their shared alpha, if Kyntha weren’t such a horrid twat.
Darion spoke. “I appreciate your concern, Lady Katreena, and I would have waited until after the mating to take her as my Naravekh, but we couldn’t allow her to remain unclaimed for so long. It would have led to in-fighting, instability… chaos. The decision was in the clan’s best interest.”
Katreena put a hand on her chest, dipping her chin.
“I understand completely. I have only been in the presence of her wonderfully tantalizing scent for a few minutes and already feel the effects. Truly, it is a testament to how disciplined you keep the wolfkin of the Sabletail Clan that wars have not already been fought over her.”
Fern began to sweat, worried that Katreena’s silken manipulation would have the whole room agreeing with her in seconds, just like how Kyntha had convinced the whole clan that Fern was a dangerous “tail-tease” when Jules had attempted to defend her after her beating.
Reinn had not been exaggerating about Katreena’s influence over her daughter, for truly, this was an art form that must have taken years to master.
And even though Fern was fully aware that whatever was coming was going to go poorly for her, she couldn’t help but be impressed and ponder if she might learn something from today.
Because if this was the manner of speaking that the wolfkin were accustomed to when it came to their she-wolves, it was little wonder Fern’s tongue displeased Darion so thoroughly.