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Sloane flinched slightly, but his gaze scrutinised the Akrhyn who had gathered in the hall. “Everyone come with me,” he ordered. “Bring everyone, get everyone, I want all Akrhyn in this House to be inside the main hall within five minutes.”
Sloane strode angrily forward, Salem beside him. “What are you doing?” Salem asked him quietly.
“What should have been done in this House a long time ago,” Sloane told him as he entered the hall. A trail of Akrhyn followed, and soon he saw the House Akrhyn enter and take their positions at the back, and he clenched his jaw tighter.
“You’re going to break your teeth,” Salem said lightly as he watched them gather.
“Better my teeth than someone’s jaw,” Sloane growled. His eyes scanned the hall. “My mother, where is she?”
“She is resting,” one of the older House Akrhyn said.
“Can you tell her she has the rest of her miserable days to rest and escort her here please?” Sloane asked one of his Elite Sentinels. He ignored the sharp intakes of breath and the whispers among the Akrhyn of his House. Sloane turned to Salem. “I need the Great Council, would you?”
Salem knew his surprise was on his face, but he merely inclined his head and left the room. He found the four Great Council members in the interrogation room with the Three. He asked them to come to the hall, and like they had been expecting it, they rose and accompanied him.
Salem tried to catch any Sister’s eye, but they all studiously avoided his gaze. Sloane wouldn’t be the only one today breaking his jaw by clenching it too tight, Salem thought as he followed the Council Elders.
As they arrived, Delilah was escorted into the hall. Salem stopped his laugh at her dramatics. Hunched over, looking frail and lost, he wanted to call Drakhyn droppings on her pitiful act. He was almost pleased to see that Sloane was not buying her act either, but at the same time, he was saddened that the young male was so bitter towards his mother.
With surprise, he saw Pure Castor Jameis standing beside Sloane. He did not know he had arrived, and then he looked back at Delilah. She truly was a manipulator, to call a Castor for her own selfish subterfuge when she knew better than anyone what was happening on their very doorstep.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Sloane suddenly addressed the crowd. No preamble, no build up, just straight in there. He was really very much like his aunt, Salem thought and smiled. “I am the Heir to House Ivanov,” Sloane said with a mocking bow. “And what a House to inherit.” His disdain was dripping. “A House that is known for its hate, its prejudice, its corruption.” He ignored the outrage and the shocked gasps. “For years, I have enjoyed a separation from the House because I have been raised and trained by this male, Salem Holt, your Principal Elder.” Sloane pointed at Salem, and his face softened. “I have been loved like his own son, I have been training for fourteen years to be Second to the Heir of House Holt when Michael took up his father’s mantle.” Sloane looked over his rapt listeners. “My brother was Heir, as you know, as you may wish he still was.” Sloane gave a casual shrug. “But my brother is a tricky one. He hates this House more than half of the Akrhyn outside these walls do...he hated the Elder of this House with such intensity that to bear the name Ivanov brought him shame.”
The Akrhyn mumbled uncomfortably amongst themselves as Delilah wept silently. “My brother was blessed by the Ancients, and by being gifted the Mark of Velvore, he was able to be granted the one thing he has wanted since I have understood his hate: he was able to be free of the chains of shame.” Sloane met the gazes of the Elite and the Sentinels, some angry at his words, some sad. He saw the same in the eyes of the House Akrhyn. “This House, House Ivanov...I admit, I have been ashamed to call myself Sloane Ivanov. For many years, I prayed to the Ancients that I could be Sloane Holt,” Sloane admitted with a little laugh. “My brother by blood is House Lebedev, my brother by friendship is House Holt, my cousin is...” Sloane smirked as he looked at Salem. “House HoltandHouse Novikov. She declined to take the House Ivanov title, and who could blame her?” Sloane’s tone was derogatory.
“Akrhyn who know what’s right and wrong refuse or refrain from saying they are House Ivanov, why?” Sloane looked around. “Because we are ashamed. We are ashamed of the male that was the Elder here. We are ashamed of the way our fellow Akrhyn were being treated. We are not better than Lycans, and we are not better than the Made. Those ofHouse Ivanovarelessthan the hounds in the mess room.” Sloane’s angry glare met the Elite Sentinel from earlier. “Have you ever tried to beat a Lycan in a straight-out sprint? Their speed and their agility make them better fighters. Their venom? Deadly to Drakhyn. A Vampyre can stand on patrol every minute of every day and never tire. They can see in the night better than the Drakhyn can. Can you?” he asked the Elite Sentinel from earlier. When the Elite could not meet his look, Sloane turned to another. “Can you?” He received no answer. “Can you?” he asked another. “No. If there is any Akrhyn in this House—inanyHouse—who is less, it is us who are not Lycan or Vampyre. But we arenotless,” Sloane’s voice was loud in the quiet hall. “We work just as hard, just as long until we stand side by side with the Lycans and the Made, and onlythendo we call ourselvesequal!”
Sloane looked over at his mother. “You were so desperate for greatness. Your son was remarkable more than any Castor has ever been, and on top of that, the Ancients gifted him by asking him to bear the Mark. The honour you should have for him, foryourson, should have been enough,” Sloane said sadly, “and still you wanted more.”
“No, Sloane,” Delilah began, but he held his hand up to stop her.
“My father wanted more. I am unfortunate enough to have to lay claim to the fact I was his son, but I was fortunate to have a brother, though my father sought to use Cord for his advantage, for his gain. And he used me when he sent me to spy on the Heir of House Holt, but I failed him miserably when Michael became my best friend and I refused to come back here when he called for me.” Sloane glanced at Salem. “Actually, I should probably confess I told him you wouldn’t let me go more times than I should.” He gave a sheepish smile to the Principal Elder before he turned back to the crowd.
“Iamyour Heir. I am Heir to House Ivanov, and it is time to change, friends. This Houseusedto be great. There is a reason House Ivanov is one of the Houses that represent the Territory. But there is no room in this House for hate. There is no room for discrimination, and I humbly beg every Lycan in this room to please accept my apology for not speaking up before now. My silence was my acceptance that what happened here was okay. It isnotandneverhas been okay. The Ancients may or may not have created us, but whatever made us, created us equal.” Sloane then shocked them all when he got to his knees and bowed his head. “With the Great Council and the Three as witnesses, I ask for your forgiveness and your belief that House Ivanov will never turn away a Lycan, a Vampyre or even a human in need.”
“Get on your feet,” the Elite Sentinel from earlier hissed at Sloane in fury. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”
Sloane lifted his head and stared hard at the Elite. “Then I have never been prouder of myself than I am today,” he answered coldly.
“My friend,” Sentinel Grant said as he stepped forward and held his hand out. “You need never bow to me, this will once again be a great House, and I will be proud to serve as an Elite here.”
Sloane looked over to the Sisters, and the Three nodded in respect. With a satisfied sigh, Sloane took the Lycan’s hand and was pulled to his feet. “All who feel like this Elite here”—he gestured to the furious Elite Sentinel—“you have one hour to remove yourselves from House Ivanov.”
“You need us,” an Elite who stood to the side shouted in disbelief. “There is war coming.”
“Do you think you are better than a Lycan?” Sloane asked bluntly, and when their face reddened, he turned his back on them. “I don’t needyouin my House.”
Salem stood silently as he watched a few—more than a few, he realised sadly—leave the room quietly. Not all were Elite, some were House Akrhyn, and Sloane stood resolute throughout. He didn’t even flinch when his mother slipped through the door. When they had left the hall, he looked at the remaining Akrhyn. “A fresh start begins today. It’s going to be rough, I really don’t know what I’m doing...but…are you with me?” he asked them with his well-known cheeky smile.
The answering cheer was deafening.
Leonid and Cord reached the cave that they had both sheltered in and exchanged a look but didn’t stop on their journey up the mountain. Every once in a while, Leonid or Cord would halt the other, and they would wait for Drakhyn to pass. It was evident that the Drakhyn were looking for the Vampyre.
Slowly but steadily, they made progress until they were up as far as they could go. Cord felt the Mark throb incessantly, and he knew, once more, the Ancient was guiding his steps. Leonid was a Vampyre; he could cling to the side of the mountain with his strength and tenacity. Cord was merely a Castor, a well-trained one, but he was grateful he had the Ancient guiding his steps and a Made one to catch him if he stumbled.
“We can go no further unless your Mark allows us to fly?” Leonid said as he stared up at the ledge that he had been shoved from. He looked at the ledge, and he looked down towards the cave. Even from here, he couldn’t see the dent in the mountain that had housed his damaged body for so long. “I have no justifiable explanation of how I even made it,” he said as he looked. “Maybe you’re not the only being the Ancients blessed,” he said with a frown as he stared back up towards the peak.
“Well, you did say the one that sliced your throat saidfly,” Cord reminded him. Cord looked out and around and took a deep breath. “It looks so peaceful down there,” he said quietly. “Up here, far from the worries of the world, it would be easy to forget what is waiting.”
