Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
Eldrick
The next morning, the sun shine high in a cloudless sky. Songbirds darted across the blue backdrop, and the pines, their green color no longer muted by frost, swayed in the breeze. A whisper lay in the air, as if the lands sang their approval for Eldrick and Tovi’s evening together.
The wolf and dove.
Though, the Drabek Village didn’t mirror the crisp, bright morning.
A few sleeping werewolves hadn’t made it to their beds. Bent over with their faces planted against wooden tables, they’d fallen asleep with their festival wine in hand.
He weaved through fallen petals, abandoned streamers and lost flower crowns. Not a single establishment had their doors open, and not a chimney billowed with smoke. He found the sleepy village almost peaceful.
Eldrick had left Tovi, begrudgingly, to clean and wash for the day, with plans to meet at the training grounds before the mid-morning feast.
His own room sat waiting at the first Sheild-maiden, but as he entered through the main door, his inner wolf’s hackles rose. Something lay in the air, and it wasn’t the stench of ale or the sweaty patrons snoring at the tables.
Eldrick sprinted up the stairs to the hallway of guest rooms and halted at the top.
At the end, Bétar, Yennifer, and Siv were huddled by his door—no, around someone. Siv sniffled, mumbling someone’s name. Eldrick quickened his gate, boots thudding against the walls, and the Gray Fenris commander caught sight of him.
“Eldrick,” he whispered.
Bétar turned, and Eldrick recognized the unmoving figure slumped at his door.
“Sam—“
Bétar grasped Eldrick’s shoulder and held him back from the horrific sight before him. If it weren’t for Sam’s hair, he’d have not guessed by his face. Both eyes were swollen shut, purple and bulbous. Blood streamed down his crooked nose, running into the rivets leaking from his split lip.
Eldrick blinked, anger and worry warring within him. He tried to detect a heartbeat, tried to listen for signs—
“Is he alive?”
Siv nodded, adamantly. “Yes, but we need to move him.”
“He was left here,” Yennifer said, words thick.
Eldrick shook his head. “Outside my door . . .” He trailed off, noticing for the first time the makeshift sign hanging from Sam’s neck like some necklace.
BANISHED one side read. Eldrick dropped to his haunches and flipped it over. HE’S ALL YOURS, DRENGR the other side read.
“Moons,” Bétar hissed.
“He was punished because of me,” Eldrick whispered. “Bjorn did this—“
“It doesn’t matter,” Siv hissed. “Sam requires a healer, now.”
Eldrick sighed. “You’re right. Bétar?”
“Aye,” his friend nodded.
“We’ll carry him,” Eldrick said. “And you lead the way Siv.”
The female werewolf fought tears. “Alright.”
Together, Bétar and Eldrick lifted Sam. Eldrick held his shoulders, keeping his head steady, while Bétar grasped his legs. Sam moaned in their arms, and the two werewolves were careful with his bruised and beaten body.
Back in the village, the too-bright sun blinded Eldrick. The several werewolves now awake stopped and stared as he and Bétar rushed after Siv, Yen at their back. The Drabek werewolf pushed through double doors of the village’s infirmary, calling out commands to the healers on duty.
Eldrick and Bétar lay Sam on an empty cot, and Eldrick’s inner wolf growled at the sight of his beaten face again. He inhaled, detecting more than one scent on the young wolf.
“Bjorn and Dalinda did this,“ he snarled. “His own father and sister.”
Healers huddled around Sam, pushing Eldrick and his friends back. Siv tunned them all out, bringing up a stool and grasping Sam’s hand.
“But why?” Yennifer whispered. “Why would they banish Sam?”
Each werewolf in the vicinity stiffened. Banishment, though a rare practice in the last century, was the ultimate punishment, a horrendous sentence to any werewolf. It meant they were officially removed from their pack by their alpha.
It was exile for Sam, meaning he couldn’t return to Johannes lands.
Eldrick’s stomach backflipped. He’d offered to let Sam join the Drengr Pack, but he’d never intended it to be under these circumstances. He’d hoped it’d be the young werewolf’s choice, not forced upon him.
“There you are,” Tovi said, breathless. Her gaze fleeted over Sam and Siv, then back to Eldrick. “I heard whispers in the village and came as quick as I could.”
Eldrick swallowed, suddenly needing her presence like an anchor in this harrowing turn of events.
He assessed Sam again as the healers who applied a cooling ointment to his swollen eyes.
Another readied twine a needle for the gash running through his brow, another injury Eldrick hadn’t accounted for.
He fisted his hands at his sides, knuckles popping.
“Look at me.” Tovi grabbed Eldrick’s hand. “This isn’t your fault.”
“But it is. Sam warned me about his father. He told me to travel south,” Eldrick said.
“Bjorn must’ve figured out his son tipped you off,” Bétar sighed. “But Tovi is right. Sam’s father did this, not you.”
“The other alphas deserve to know,” Yennifer said.
“What if they already do?” Eldrick asked. “I spotted Sam’s bruises the moment I met him. They can’t be that oblivious.”
Tovi shook her head. “Yet, they’ll still vote for him?”
Eldrick’s jaw ticked. “They’re afraid of him.”
“They should be more afraid if he becomes Earl,” Siv said, peering up at them all. “If this is what he will do to his own son, the Johannes Magu, I’d hate to think of his wrath against anyone who defies him.”
“What will you do?” Tovi asked.
Eldrick debated, the same question of late tumbling through him: what sort of leader did he want to be?
“I refuse to be afraid. I’ll confront Bjorn.” He searched Tovi’s face. “I need to do this—“
“Alone.” She nodded. “I know.”
Because though they’d decided to try and make this work between them, they weren’t Evelyn and Kade. They couldn’t waltz into a room together, hand in hand. At least, not until Eldrick secured the Earl vote, and that was still a strong, unknown maybe.
He inhaled and stormed out of the infirmary, swallowing the bile of leaving the woman he loved behind and wishing they could face this together. But he’d not let Bjorn’s cruelty remain in the dark any longer.
Eldrick pushed both twelve-foot doors open into the Drabek’s longhouse. The remaining festival cheer continued as hungover werewolves piled food atop their plates, drank herb-infused drinks, and reminisced on the previous evening’s affairs.
At the center, Bjorn roared with laughter with Alpha Skau at his side. Dalinda was nowhere in sight. Eldrick didn’t care, he marched straight for Alpha Johannes. Werewolves took notice, conversation lulling to a murmur.
Bjorn’s attention snapped to Eldrick, and he smirked, eyes glinting with amusement.
“I see you got my gift.” Bjorn snickered, laughed about beating Sam and dumping him outside Eldrick’s door.
Blood still stained the bastard’s knuckles, and Eldrick’s control snapped.
He slammed his fist onto the table and whirled to face the hall. “Is this the Earl you all wish to lead the Vadon Mountains?” Eldrick shouted.
Conversation quieted, and ahead, the Drabek Alphas paused their hushed conversation in their alpha chairs. Alland and Lindstrom pushed off the wall where they stood, falling deeper into the crowd.
“Werewolves need a true leader to help face the battle to come,” Eldrick said. “Yet, the male you all consider is nothing but a bully.”
Skau sneered while Bjorn chuckled. He pushed out of his chair, the legs scraping against the stone and cutting through the rest of the conversations.
“I suppose you’re a better fit, pup?” Bjorn said. “Will your mother join you on the battlefield so you can suck from her tit in between foes? You’re far too young, too na?ve to lead packs that have run these mountains for centuries.”
“You are right about one thing, Alpha Bjorn,” Eldrick said. “I am young, but I’m not hardened by ego and prejudice like you. I ask, alphas, what sort of leader is it that you want? A bully who beats his own son into submission? Banishes him when his efforts didn’t work?”
The hall bristled with tension, shocked murmurs snaking down the tables. Eldrick’s heart hammered inside his chest. Never had he felt so centered, so certain in his conviction.
“That is Johannes business. How I discipline my pack members is of no concern to you.”
Eldrick snorted. “Only a coward hides his actions. It matters more what one does when no one is watching. That is a true testament of your character.”
He turned back to the werewolves in the hall, making sure to find the other alphas, too.
“If Bjorn leaves bruises on his own flesh and blood, how do you think he’ll treat the rest of us?
” Eldrick asked. “I’ll admit one thing, the Johannes Pack produces formidable warriors, some of the best in the Vadon Mountains, but Bjorn leads with hate.
He thrives off malice and power. Elect Bjorn as Earl of our homeland, and you will not only doom us all to lose the war ahead, but ruin werewolf history. ”
“What are you suggesting?” Alpha Drabek descended the dais from her chair.
The hall parted, letting her pass. Lindstrom and Alland followed suit, and Leif moved into position behind Eldrick, giving him a swift, approving node. All six alphas stood near, and Eldrick’s wolfish blood sang, and the Vadon Mountains answered in a steady chorus.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“I say we cast the Earl vote now,” Eldrick said. “Why waste time when our people need a leader?”
Bjorn’s laugh grew uneasy as a hundred eyes fell to him. “The decree—“
“Never explicitly set a date for the vote,” Leif said. “It was simply part of the discussion.”
Bjorn growled and pointed his meaty finger at Eldrick. “Is this truly who you all wish to vote for?”
“By all means, Bjorn,” Ragna said, “state your case if it is your name we should consider instead. We’re all here.”
Bjorn chucked off his cloak and unclasped his breastplate. “I’ll not waste words when I can simply show you.”