Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 72: Caine: Banquet (II)

CAINE

Fenris doesn’t acknowledge the greeting, instead fixing his gaze on something beyond the Alpha’s shoulder. I follow his line of sight to a display of ancient-looking weapons mounted on the wall inside—ceremonial, but deadly nonetheless.

There is blood. Fresh. Not even a day old.

My nostrils flare, but I can’t pick up any scent.

Halloway’s eyes drift over our party, dismissing Andrew and Thom almost immediately before pausing on Elizabeth with a distinct frown. Then he settles his attention on Jack-Eye, his lips thinning. Not quite hostile, but... something. "I see your beta has dressed for the occasion."

Jack-Eye inclines his head. "I believe in respecting local customs, Alpha Halloway."

"Indeed." The Fiddleback Alpha’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. "And the others are...?"

"My warlock," I say, nodding toward Thom, who shrinks further into himself. "And a wolf from Blue Mountain."

"Ah." A flash of recognition crosses Halloway’s face as he looks at Andrew. "From the rumors. You have our condolences."

Andrew says nothing, his posture rigid.

The alpha steps aside, allowing us entry into a vast open space with vaulted ceilings and tables draped in white linens. The room buzzes with at least fifty wolves, all in formal attire, watching us. A string quartet plays in the corner, though the music falters as the musicians notice our arrival. They’re all human.

"I hope you don’t mind," Halloway says, gesturing to the gathering, "but word of your visit spread quickly. Many were eager to pay their respects."

As if he didn’t spread the word himself. My lips quirk. I’m sure he’s assembled his entire inner circle, possibly his full pack hierarchy. It is interesting he could call in so many on such short notice.

They’re either incredibly loyal... or deeply afraid of their alpha.

our efficiency," he

human, appears with champagne flutes on a silver tray. I wave them away with

a private discussion," I

you understand—it would be an insult to deprive

can only describe as practiced theater. "Tonight, we celebrate an unprecedented honor—the presence of the Lycan King

chorus of approval ripples through the attendees. I nod once, sharply, refusing to play this game of ceremonial adoration. The music swells slightly as

already clenched with the anticipation of holding

introduce some of our most esteemed

nothing, which he

surrounded by eager Fiddleback wolves, each desperate for a sliver of my attention. Some bow deeply, others attempt conversation with rehearsed questions about Lycan territory. I answer in clipped sentences when required, my attention split between the sycophants and Fenris’s increasing

by his own adulating fans, and

here, he says,

Andrew’s side. The latter looks bored, and his dark eyes meet

Bastard.

have just

with me now. Killing off a

even think

my teeth at Fenris’s snappy demand, I turn my

the surface—formal attire, respectable conversation, an appropriate amount

squeezes between two men to reach me. "I’m

her with a nod before another

excellent facilities. Should your companion require anything

curls back. "My mate’s care is not your

face pales. "Of course, High

his eyes are sharp. "High Alpha, perhaps you’d care to see the outdoor terrace? The