That didn’t seem to sit well with Lucien. “What kind of favors?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“I am not so uncouth as to inquire of any Fae of mine what kind of favors they ask for in their private contracts,” he replied, sounding almost offended at the idea that he would know such private information, and so we were left to wonder.
Seeing he wouldn’t be able to get an answer for that, Lucien moved on. “I want a nonaggression agreement between the Syndicate and the Montrévère pack,” he said now, grabbing the other pen. “You won’t come for us, or for me, as the Alpha, under any circumstances, and we will not come for you.”
The boy smiled. “This is not how it works, wolf,” he said in a lecturing voice that made me scowl. “I require payment.”
“In the form of favors,” Lucien added with evident distaste.
The boy shrugged. “We are Fae,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.
And it seemed it did, because Lucien gave a curt nod and said, “Then I would like you to pay us with favors in return.”
“Ah.” The Syndarch’s smile widened. “Now you’re talking.”
The next few minutes were a back-and-forth between Lucien and the Syndarch, as each changed, added, and removed terms for the contract. A lot of it I didn’t quite understand, but since Lucien obviously did, it didn’t matter.
I was no longer feeling sick, no longer sweaty and anxious, as if my body felt the danger had passed now that Lucien had declared me his Eteria. Yet some part of me was still uneasy, as if something wasn’t quite right still.
“To seal our agreement, the contract requires a member of your pack to stay here as a liaison,” the boy now said, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes falling on Teya. “I would like to add that I shall choose the liaison I see fit.”
Lucien didn’t seem to like it one bit. “I refuse to leave a member of my pack down here for an indefinite amount of time, Syndarch.”
The boy sighed again. “Under the agreement, I am not allowed to harass, abuse, or touch even a strand of any of your wolves’ hair,” he said, folding his arms. “This is a necessity for our mutual nonaggression relationship.”
It seemed Lucien couldn’t refute that, even though he didn’t like it one bit, as revealed by the curl of his lips. “Fine,” he grated out. “So in this case, I will choose the liaison of the Syndicate as well.”
“This is fair.” The boy nodded. “How many are we talking about? One?”
Lucien glanced at Teya, who seemed a little pale, and said, “Two.”
“Two,” the boy repeated in a murmur while making a face, another rare show of emotion. “No. Let’s make it three.”
“Fine,” Lucien said, blue eyes flaring in barely hidden hatred as he looked at the boy. “We choose today, then.”
The boy nodded and pointed at Teya, like a kid in a candy store. “I want her,” he said plainly. “I don’t care about the other two. Zairos can choose them.”
Teya’s pale face fell now, but I saw her trying to collect herself, to not show how distraught she obviously was. It made me feel sick, seeing her so out of it. While I didn’t know Teya, never talked to her, either, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. She obviously didn’t want to be the liaison, and yet she had no choice.
Lucien didn’t seem happy about it either. “You chose one of my Betas,” he said in a warning tone. “That means you owe me a high-ranking member too.”
“This won’t be a problem.” The boy shrugged, a secretive smile on his lips. “I’ll do you even one better: I’ll give you the Mathenio.”
The silence that followed the boy’s words could have been cut with a knife. Everyone seemed shocked, holding their breath, at what the boy just said—including the Betas, and Blaise in particular, who seemed downright flabbergasted.
The shock didn’t bypass Lucien either; he stared at the Syndarch, almost disbelieving, and with a healthy amount of suspicion. “The Mathenio,” he repeated slowly, breaking the silence.
With another cold smile, the boy nodded. “Yes. You’ll get the Mathenio and two others of your choosing.”
As if he still couldn’t believe his ears, Lucien nodded before he turned to Blaise. “You choose the other two.”
Blaise, whose shock was still palpable, gave a sharp nod.
“Then if that is all, I think we are done here,” the Syndarch said as he signed the contract and pushed it toward Lucien. “It’sverynice doing business with you, Alpha wolf, and congratulations,” he added, glancing at me, “on your Eteria, that is.”
Lucien signed, too, his muscles tense, and rose to his feet, grabbing my hand. “Teya needs to pack,” he said, not acknowledging the latter statement, “and Zairos needs to pick the other two members of my pack. I’ll take them both with me and leave Blaise here to pick your members.”
The Syndarch rose to his feet, his face suddenly bored. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said, voice dry, before he turned his back to us and left the hall as if nothing had just happened.
