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Amora, who’s been silently watching from behind the seated elders, speaks up. “Grady’s right.” She inclines her chin toward the bald man. “Banding together seems like the safest route for our families and the children of our pack. Our future safety and security could rest on the decision to combine forces.”
The mention of “children” and “future” seems to stir the crowd into a sudden torrent of agreement, specifically from the North and East Packs. Each pack begins murmuring amongst themselves, looking more amenable to the idea that if it’s safer for their children, and their children’s futures, then perhaps they should decide to stay together.
But the chunk of unfamiliar West Pack shifters seem undeterred.
“Staying here would just mean trouble,” a hard-faced man snarls as he launches to his feet and points at Archer, of all people. His gaze is on Trystan. “We were doing just fine on our lands before this shit. If we stay here or invite the other packs to our territory, we’ll be asking for trouble.”
“Yeah,” the woman beside him agrees, standing to address the elders. “We had the witch threat handled and were doing fine prior to this. I say we go back to doing what we did before and let the other packs deal however they need to. Otherwise, we’d just be putting ourselves in danger.”
A North Pack shifter stands and glares at the couple. “So the other packs are nothing but a liability to you?”
“Aren’t you?” the first man shoots back.
The noise that breaks out at this slight is intense. It explodes over the clearing like a bomb, and even the mountains several miles away are probably echoing with the blast. I can feel all my old panic and anxiety fluttering in my stomach, and I close my eyes, trying to block out the shouting and arguing. The last thing I need right now is to lose control of the barrier in my mind because a bunch of grown adults are pointing fingers and tossing blame.
There’s probably some kind of spell I could use. Something to ease the tension or to calm tempers. Maybe if I had been raised a witch and had some training to fall back on, I could’ve spent the meeting surreptitiously calming everybody like a human oil diffuser. Yet another way I fall short as a witch.
Ridge sighs and I open my eyes to see him glance over at Archer. His voice is low as he says, “We clearly won’t be reaching a decision this evening.”
Archer nods, grimacing slightly. “This is going to be harder than we thought.”
On Archer’s other side, Dare nods his agreement too, but Trystan is zoned out as he stares at the arguing crowd. Judging by the glare on his face, his thoughts are dark and bothered.
“Let’s call it for the night,” Ridge murmurs. “Before someone draws blood.”
“Silence!” Archer yells louder than I’ve ever heard him bellow before, though there’s no anger in his voice.
To be honest, the only emotions I’m getting from him through our mate bond are frustration and despair. I don’t blame him for feeling that way either. I’m not even in charge of these packs, and I’m definitely frustrated.
His shout lowers the tide of noise just enough for him to speak and be heard. “We don’t need to come to a consensus tonight. Everyone take a day, calm down, give it some thought. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”
As one, the West Pack members look to Trystan, and the North Pack wolves all look to Ridge. If it wasn’t so divisive, it would be funny.
“Dismissed,” Ridge orders, backing up Arc
her’s decision.
Trystan nods and gestures for his people to leave. His silence bothers me; it isn’t like Trystan to stand back and stay mum, especially in the middle of a fight.
As the crowd begins to filter slowly out of the clearing, I circle up with Dare, Ridge, Archer, and Amora, but my eyes are on Trystan. He stands several feet away, his back to us and his gaze on the sun setting over the mountains.
“Is he—” I start to say.
Archer lifts a hand and gives me a small, silent nod.
When I turn back to Trystan, he’s already shifting. Magic shimmers over him like a mirage, and his sturdy, muscular body morphs from human to wolf with a kind of stunning beauty in the rosy evening glow. Then he turns to look back at us.
I walk forward and bend down toward his massive form, nuzzling my face into the soft patch of fur beneath his ear. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I give him a squeeze.
It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about whatever’s going through his head, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to try to make him. He obviously needs some time to think. I’m pretty certain he doesn’t want me trailing after him this time either.
Trystan makes a little noise deep in his throat and turns to snuffle at the side of my head. Then he pulls away from my arms.
As he races off into the distance, I go to join my other men for the short walk home, already counting the minutes until my fourth mate returns.
4
Sable
