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“It’s some sort of silver alloy,” Demetrius said. “Although it leaves a very odd silver burn, as Winter discovered while examining it.”
Kaarina set it back in the box. “Where did you find this?”
Demetrius nodded to me. “Winter dreamt of the necklace. When Rodero died, it was discovered that Elder Luna Autumn had hidden several of her dream journals for Winter, knowing Winter would come for them before the age of twenty-five. Autumn also dreamt of the necklace, many times, but it was Winter who put the clues from her mother’s dreams together to discern its location. She and Sterling found it in a small shop on the edge of the Florida Everglades.”
“And this fanciful story is all documented.”
“As only the paranoid daughter of the Chronicler could create such an obnoxiously detailed and ready-for-Elder-scrutiny papertrail.” Demetrius smirked.
Paranoid? At this point: very.
Mikkel ceased to feign even a hint of affability. Being nailed to the board like a butterfly tended to do that.
Demetrius ground it a bit deeper. “Additionally, Elder Luna Autumn foresaw Sterling Mortcombe as her daughter’s mate. She didn’t know the wolf’s name, but saw him, and called himwolf-of-silver. It would seem Gaia is speaking, and we would do well to listen.”
“Now you sound like Rodero.”
Demetrius smiled. “How unfortunate. I recall you never agreed with Rodero’s pedigree politics. How has that worked for your pack?”
“We have had this argument.”
“Hmm. And I am the one with the winning hand. I have Sterling, I have Winter, I have what Elder Luna Autumn left behind, and I have the relic. What, exactly, do you have?” Demetrius rested his cheek on his upraised fist.
Mikkel chuckled. “We’ll escort you to the Archives, but I will be bringing this up to the other Elders. It was unnecessary to involve your First Beta.”
“We will disagree on that point. Have you heard anything about a pendant like this? Any old fairytales or legends?”
Mikkel, actually, glanced at the box. “Perhaps. There’s a very old scrap of a story about a wolf princess who had a pelt like diamonds, eyes like the ocean, and wore a fanciful collar made of many colors of ribbons. You could try that. It’s sixth or seventh century.”
“What was the story?” Searle inquired.
Mikkel shrugged. “A wolf princess’ mate braided a collar for her from all the banners of his vanquished enemies. He took a silver hammer to the head in battle and lost his memory, including his claws and love for her. He wandered mindlessly. She stayed at his side in wolf-form wearing the collar and letting him believe she was just a faithful hound and he was human, while he searched for his name. Finally, his memory was restored, they returned home to slay all their enemies and live happily ever after.”
How could such an epic love story have been lost to time? Absolute crime. Instead we got idiotic girls in red coats wandering through forests, hapless girls making questionable choices in footwear,morehapless girls eating apples from strangers, or playing with spindles when specifically told not to, or idiot children taking treats from weird women living in candy houses. Every single one seemed to involve some idiot doing something they had been specifically toldnot to door exercising zero common sense.
The only famous fairytale we shared with humanity I could stomach was the original version of Rapunzel, because she’d gotten tossed into the wilderness, had to give birth alone, survived (with twins) in a wasteland until her partner managed to find them again, despite his having been blinded. I also liked the Russian version of Cinderella, because she’d actually had a lick of sense and instead of forgiving her horrible step-family, she torched them and went on to be a skilled seamstress living her best life.
Searle intruded on my thoughts with a practical question. “How was his memory restored?”
“No idea. The story is told as part of a bard scene in a larger epic that has nothing to do with the wolf princess.” Mikkel glanced at me, then back at Demetrius. “I have your assurance you will not let her browse?”
“You mean satisfy my personal curiosity?” I asked dryly.
Dirty looks from the Elders.
“Alpha Mikkel, I don’t think wolves from a thousand years ago need their privacy protected, and as for the most recent records? I’ve already seen enough of them to know how dirty your laundry is.EspeciallyFrostFangare’s.It’s not possible for me to think less of you, and it’s also not my place to discuss why I have that opinion.”
Mikkel moved, and Kaarina barred her teeth.
Demetrius held his arm in front of me. “The she-wolf’s contempt of you is not out of line or unjustified. Make arrangements. Or I will make them and note that you seemed to have something to hide. There have already been several instances of Elder Alphas proving they cannot be trusted to maintain the Archives accurately. Don’t add to the list.”
“What are you talking about?” Mikkel demanded. “We havenevertampered.”
“You are also in a unique position of trust, with the potential for vast abuse.” Demetrius’ tone was measured. “And others have abused their influence before. Except this time, I have proof that it is truly happening.”
Like you, I wanted to ask Demetrius. Like he had, leaving Sterling and me officially unmated?
Mikkel shot to his feet. “What evidence is there that the Archives have ever been tampered with?”
