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.

pride in our efficiency," he

on a silver tray. I wave them away with a sharp gesture. Halloway

for a

surely you understand—it would be an insult to

eyes searching the crowd in a manner I can only describe as practiced theater. "Tonight, we celebrate an unprecedented honor—the presence of

to play this game of ceremonial adoration. The music swells slightly as conversation resumes, and Halloway guides us deeper

of holding my temper at bay for an hour or

of our most

say nothing, which he takes as

attention. Some bow deeply, others attempt conversation with rehearsed questions about Lycan territory. I answer in clipped sentences when required, my attention split between

and I can feel

he says,

Thom nervously hovering by Andrew’s side. The latter looks bored, and his dark eyes meet mine

Bastard.

just killed him

me now. Killing off a pesky

even think about

my teeth at Fenris’s snappy demand, I turn my attention to the

surface—formal attire, respectable conversation, an appropriate amount

an honor, High Alpha." A woman in her fifties squeezes between

a nod before another

companion require

upper lip curls back. "My mate’s

pales. "Of course,

at my side; he’s been schmoozing in his own way. Now, his expression is neutral but his eyes are sharp. "High Alpha, perhaps you’d