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Leonid and Cord edged along the ledge slowly, carefully. They had a long way to go. Cord could not dare the risk of portalling. The Darkness was looking elsewhere. Its attention was not on the foot of the mountain nor was it on two covert Akrhyn who were highly trained in the art of stealth.
Cord would need to portal once they were in position, because despite his heated words to the Alpha and the Mentor, there was one more Made who was not under the mountain, and Cord knew exactly where he was.
* * *
Salem read the fire message and breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like the first full breath he had taken in days. They were awake, they were fine, they were healing. His son and daughter were going to be okay. He sat for a moment longer and just breathed. It was something Celeste used to say to him when they were younger, just breathe and take a moment.
Salem stood as he remembered Tegan’s mother. She had been so full of life, so alive, she was entrancing. Whenever she walked into a room, the males and even females had been enraptured with her. His father had tried to tell him he was the same as all those others, it was merely an infatuation and that he didn’t love her, he only thought he did. Salem sighed in disgust at the male he was back then. Hehadloved her, with everything he had, and when he chose duty over honour, he had lost her.
As he should have done.
She was not his to keep. Not when she gave him her all and he turned her away. For another. Tiredly he rubbed his hands over his eyes as he thought about it. If he had chosen Celeste, he would never have had Michael or Zahra or the years he had with Mikayla. He would not have had his Headquarters, and theywerehis. His family name was associated with Northern Headquarters, who would have taken control of Headquarters had his father cast him out? Cornelius? Salem scoffed internally, over his dead body.
It was truly mind-boggling that two siblings had been so vastly different. Celeste stood for everything her brother did not, and it had not taken Salem long to realise that Sloane took after his aunt more than his father, for which he would forever be eternally grateful.
Salem had never looked back and thought his love for Celeste was a mistake, and as much as it hurt him, losing her made him the male he was today. He was blessed because he had Tegan out of their union, a sliver of her mother in his life every day, should he wish it. He had been granted a reprieve for his earlier days, and he gave thanks every night that the Ancients gave him his daughter.
“You look deep in thought,” Sloane said as he walked towards him. He was in his fatigues again, and Salem thought maybe he should tell him he needed to start dressing like an Elder, but then he saw how tired the young male was and held his tongue. He had been through a lot, and he still had a lot to get done. His dress code could wait.
“I was thinking about your aunt,” Salem said truthfully. “And my children,” he added with a sad smile. “My three children, who are intent on giving me grey hair,” he added with a laugh. “And my ward, who is making me very proud to say he trained in my House.”
Sloane flushed with happiness before he reached out and clasped Salem’s shoulder. “Thank you, I needed that today.”
“You deserve the praise,” Salem said as they began walking back to the room that had been used for an interrogation of Cornelius Ivanov. “How is your mother?” Salem didn’t actually care if Delilah had fled in the night, but he had offered his mother’s home for her to recuperate, and he knew from Sloane that she had accepted the offer. The Ancients knew she didn’t deserve it.
“You cannot use that room,” a voice said sharply as they rounded a corner, and Sloane pulled Salem back, gesturing for him to be quiet as he raised a finger to his lips.
Peering around the corner, he saw an Elite Sentinel of House Ivanov standing with his sword across the door, barring the other Akrhyn from entering. The other Akrhyn was Lycan.
“Why not?” the Lycan asked as his hand fell to his own sword casually.
“Lycan rooms are further down, beside the kitchens,” the Elite said snobbishly.
“Lycan rooms?” the Lycan asked, the heat of his anger sounding clearly in his voice.
“Yes, beside the hounds’ mess room,” the Elite snickered.
At the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard, Sloane walked casually around the corner, Salem a step behind him, curious to see how the new Elder of the House handled the situation.
“Sentinel Grant,” Sloane greeted the Sentinel warmly. “I didn’t expect you here so soon. Did you have a good journey?”
Sentinel Grant turned and regarded Sloane cautiously, his sword still half drawn from its scabbard. “Sloane,” he greeted. “Yes, the wind was on my heels,” he said with a dirty look to the Elite that still barred his way. “MyLycanheels.”
The Elite’s lip curled in disgust, and Sentinel Grant took a step closer to him. “What’s the matter? My Lycan blood too rich for your prejudiced heart, maybe you would prefer I was Drakhyn?”
The Elite swung his sword, and Sloane leapt forward, his hand halting the movement. “Elite Sentinel...whoever you are,” Sloane said coldly as he pushed the Elite back slightly. “You raise your weapon against a comrade again in this House and I will have your head, do I make myself clear?”
“He is a Lycan,” the Elite said to Sloane in an urgent whisper.
“I know.” Sloane grinned. “And we are very grateful to have him and his brethren here to aid us.”
“We do not need their aid,” the Elite snarled as he stood aside from the door, his raised voice bringing attention from more than just House Akrhyn.
“Are you blind?” Sloane asked him with his head cocked to the side. “Have you seen what in shade’s name is happening? Are youdeaf? Have you not heard that the Drakhyn are marching south to wipe us out?”
“I have seen and I have heard…heard they travelled with Lycan.” The Elite glared at Sentinel Grant.
“Just as I heard that the Elder of this House aligned with their Drakhyn master,” Sentinel Grant bit back.
