by Laura Taylor
Caroline didn’t react to his sudden profession of love. But perhaps that was simply her pragmatic way of seeing the world. No fuss, no drama, just taking each day as it came, whether it brought sunlight and hope for the future, or the perpetual dangers of the Endless War.
Without a word, she got up. Searched around for her clothes, dressed in silence, and only when she’d laced her boots and straightened the worst of the wrinkles did she face him again.
“I have no regrets about last night,” she told him frankly, looking him in the eye. “I know what your responsibilities are. I’m not asking for anything you don’t have to give. And for the record… I’ve been in love with you for just as long. And we both know that’s never going to work out for us.”
With those final words, she quietly let herself out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. And the thing that pissed Andre off most about that was not that she had no expectations of him. That was simple pragmatism, and nothing he could hold against her. No, what really made him grit his teeth and want to curse at the sky was that she was right – as far as a real life went, as far as commitment and emotional stability and any kind of real future… he simply had nothing to offer her.
And it was about time that all that changed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Three days later, the Den was slowly returning to a semblance of normality. A funeral had been held for Nate and Eric, a heartfelt ceremony held on the back lawn by moonlight, new plaques added to the memorial wall, and the traditional chants and prayers to Sirius performed as a tribute to their courage and sacrifice as warriors of Il Trosa. The bodies of the other shifters had been cremated and the ashes boxed to be sent back to their respective Dens.
Baron and Caroline had given an extensive report on the attack to Eleanor, who had passed it on to the rest of the Council. Condolences were pouring in from the other Dens – being attacked was bad enough, but for it to happen during the Densmeet was a blow that had everyone’s emotions on edge, and amongst the heartfelt sympathy were several comments reaffirming the growing view that Il Trosa’s current strategies on the Endless War were inadequate. Despite agreeing with some of the sentiments, her anger over the attack still raw, Caroline knew there was little she could do to change their current course. It was an issue for the Council to decide, the best minds in Il Trosa already employed to tackle the problem, but the answer to the crisis remained as elusive as ever. Every strategy they could devise contained inherent risks that could do as much harm as good.
There was an incinerator in the basement, and they’d put it to good use, disposing of the bodies of the Noturatii men and their dogs. Alistair, their PR guru, had managed to track down the elusive news report on the death of the hiker – elusive, because the Noturatii had apparently done their job well. The official story was that the girl had wandered into a hunting ground on private property – covered by all the appropriate permits and warning signs – and been accidentally shot by one of the hunters. For the sake of the family’s privacy, few details had been released, and it was a relief to know that for once, their enemies had proved as useful as their word.
After giving her reports on the other Dens, Eleanor had announced that she was eager to be heading back to Italy. The Council’s plane was standing by for the journey as soon as Eleanor gave the word, so it wasn’t a surprise to Caroline when Eleanor approached her, requesting a private meeting with her, Baron, Andre and Caleb: The verdict of his assessment for service to the Council.
As promised, Andre had handed over his final report on the matter several days ago, and Eleanor would have discussed the selection with the other Council members by video call, no doubt reaching a rapid conclusion, given how thorough she knew Andre to be. And with the meeting now set up, Caroline had to assume that it was good news. If not, Eleanor would likely have simply returned to Italy without speaking a word of it. Caleb himself was still unaware of his assessment, and if he hadn’t been chosen, there would have been no point in letting him know anything about it.
And so the five of them now sat in the library, her and Baron feeling a swell of pride in one of their finest shifters, though Caleb was no doubt feeling rather baffled by the meeting. “Is this about the dead hiker?” he asked immediately, once everyone was seated.
“Not at all,” Eleanor said. “It was a most unfortunate situation, of course, but you did nothing to warrant any kind of reprimand. If anything, your quick thinking saved us all a lot of trouble – albeit with an unpleasant ending.”
Caleb nodded, seeming to relax a little with the official pardon for his actions. But then the confusion returned, as he no doubt wondered what this could be about, if not that.
“I have some news for you,” Eleanor said, apparently deciding there was no point in drawing this out. “And I think it may come as a surprise. You have been told that Andre remained at your Den because of a tense political situation in Italy which made it unsafe for him to return home. And that much, at least, is true. But he also had another purpose in staying here. He has been assessing you for service to the Council.”
Caleb’s shock was palpable. His eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped, his gaze flashing over to Andre, then to Baron and Caroline, as if astonished that they would dare to keep this from him. “Me?” he squeaked out at last. “I’m not… I don’t… I haven’t the skills needed for service to the Council.”
“On the contrary,” Andre spoke up, and Caroline steadfastly avoided his gaze. What she’d said to him the other day was true – she had no regrets about sleeping with him. But somehow she hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to still have him around the manor, now that she knew what she had been missing all these years, and with the firm knowledge that it was most definitely a one-time event. So she’d gone out of her way to avoid him, while trying to keep the tension between them a secret from everyone else. So far, at least, she seemed to have been successful. “You have excellent skills as a warrior,” Andre went on, addressing Caleb. “You have a solid grasp of the old language, and you’re a superb strategic planner. There will be additional preparation required once you get to Italy – assuming you accept the post, of course,” he added as an aside. “But you’re more than capable of completing the training, with the appropriate instruction.”
“I only have one eye,” Caleb protested, which made Eleanor laugh.
“I’m not recruiting you as an assassin,” she pointed out drolly. “Aside from anything else, you haven’t the temperament for it. But one of our historians is about to retire, and he’s looking for a protégé to pass on some of his extensive knowledge to.” She smiled, a warm affection lighting her eyes. “I think you would fit the bill rather nicely.”
Caleb didn’t seem to know what to say, so she asked, “Would you like a few days to think about it?”
Caleb shook his head. “No, Ma’am. It is the highest honour to be offered such a position. I wholeheartedly accept.”
The smile on Eleanor’s face was bright and welcoming. “I’m so glad. I’ll be returning to Italy in a few days. If it’s not too soon, I’d like you to come with me.”
“Of course,” Caleb agreed, then he turned to Baron and Caroline. “You both knew about this?” he asked, then went on without waiting for an answer. “I had no idea. That whole time in Scotland, I thought Andre was just… killing time.”
“I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to the job,” Baron said warmly. “We’ll miss you. And I hope you’ll stay in touch, as far as your duties will allow it. But we couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of things to prepare before we leave, so I’ll let you go and get started,” Eleanor said with a smile. “Unless you have any further questions?”
“No, not at the moment. Thank you so much. This is a great honour.” Caleb left the room, and Caroline stood up, assuming that the meeting was over.
“Just a moment,” Eleanor called her back. “We have o
ne other issue to discuss.”
That was news to Caroline, and she sat down again, her mind racing to imagine what the problem could be. Don’t go jumping to conclusions, she told herself sternly. It was probably just a follow up on the attack in Scotland, new security measures from the Council, perhaps.
“I’m afraid Caleb is not the only one who’s been kept in the dark,” Eleanor said, a sly grin creeping over her face, though Caroline couldn’t begin to deduce the meaning of it. “Andre had another assignment to complete while he was here. He handed in his final report two days ago, and the Council has reached a decision.”
“A decision on what?”
“On you.” Eleanor pulled a sheet of paper out of the stack she had in front of her and slid it across the table to Caroline. “This is a letter, signed by the Council, formally inviting you to join us as a Councillor.”
Caroline stared at her blankly. Was this some kind of joke? “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been assessing you as a replacement for Amedea,” Andre explained patiently, and Caroline took the time to notice that he lacked Eleanor’s enthusiasm for the proposal. “You’ve been accepted. They’re offering you a seat on the Council.”
Stunned, Caroline reached out and took the letter. It was signed at the bottom with eleven signatures – the entire Council – and she had to read it twice to get it to sink in. A Councillor. Her? “Why me?”
“We made a selection of four potential candidates,” Eleanor explained, not at all put out by her shock and hesitation. “We sent emissaries to assess each of them. And yesterday we took a vote. It came in in your favour, eight votes to three.”
There was a heavy silence, as Caroline read the letter again. Yup, there was her name at the top. And all those signatures at the bottom. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Take a few days to think about it,” Eleanor said gently. “I realise this is a big decision. And you’re likely to have a lot of questions, so feel free to come and find me any time, day or night, if you want to talk things through. In the meantime, here’s some more information about the intricacies of the position.” She handed Caroline a small, ring-bound book. “There’s extra training provided, so don’t be alarmed if you feel you’re not up to speed with some of the responsibilities. This is more an overview, to give you an idea of what you’d be signing on for.” She fixed Caroline with a steely look. “I have the utmost confidence in you, Caroline. You would not have been selected for this position if you weren’t capable of fulfilling it.”
With a reassuring smile, Eleanor got up, nodded to Andre, and the pair of them left the room, leaving Caroline staring at Baron, who was giving her an odd, scrutinizing look.
“You knew about this?” she accused him angrily. How dare they just drop this on her like this? This was huge! A massive responsibility with implications affecting the survival of their entire species!
“I did,” Baron replied. And Caroline wanted to hurl a huge pile of accusations at him, but knew they would all be useless. Of course he couldn’t have told her. Andre would have forbidden it, the same as he’d forbidden them both from telling Caleb about his assessment.
And Andre… fucking hell, she suddenly realised. She’d slept with the man who was assessing her for a position on the Council. She wasn’t familiar with all the regulations that governed the behaviour of Council emissaries, but there were surely rules against that. She could only assume that Eleanor didn’t know.
What the hell was she supposed to do now? Leave her Den? Her family? Leave Skip, and Tank, and Silas, and know that if the shit really hit the fan, the species unable to fight their way out from under the claws of the Noturatii, then it would be partially her fault, a consequence of the decisions made by the Council, which could just as easily bless, or damn the lot of them.
“I need to be alone,” she muttered, staggering to her feet and stumbling out of the room. Baron made no attempt to follow her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
6 Years Ago
The Den was in an uproar.
Anna, the current alpha female, sat at the long table in the library, watching the chaos around her with calm composure. Beside her, Baron looked like he wanted to throw up. All around them, the members of the Den were expressing their displeasure at Anna’s latest announcement, shouting, swearing, some gesturing wildly to punctuate their angry pronouncements while others paced, hit things, overturned chairs.
And in the midst of it all, Caroline sat silently, mind racing, her safe and stable world suddenly on shaky ground.
Anna was resigning as alpha. And she was moving to Italy, abandoning her Den, her duties, her family. The Den was reeling in shock.
It was five years since the death of Kendrick, her husband, who had been alpha up until his death, when Baron had taken over. And though no one was quite willing to admit it, since that time Anna had hardly been exemplary in her fulfilment of her duties. She’d taken frequent trips to Italy, shown little interest in rebuilding their Den, left the vast majority of responsibilities up to Baron, and while more than a handful of their members had petitioned for a leadership change, the problem then remained the same as the problem now – there was no other female in the Den both willing and able to take control.
Heron would have been the first choice, the most senior and most experienced of the females, but for reasons that few among their number understood, she had steadfastly refused to challenge Anna for rank.
Raniesha fancied herself another good bet, but Caroline knew for certain that she would never gather sufficient social support to hold the rank. And Skip, of course, was far too young, and had neither the skills nor the desire to hold such a position of responsibility.
Which left Caroline.
Privately, she scoffed at the idea, sure that the Den would never support her, convinced that she was too hot tempered, too brusque and lacking important social skills to ever make a real play for the role.
The real problem was that, in the absence of a willing and able female, the Council would be forced to send in a new female selected from another Den, a strong, experienced wolf with the skills and personality to become alpha. While this was a sound plan in the long run, a strong female needed to keep the Den stable and functioning well, in the short term it was a nightmare. No one liked having new wolves of high rank brought in. It would create resentment among the females and dissention among the males. It sparked weeks, if not months of status fights, as everyone jostled for rank and with Baron as their alpha male, a powerful personality and formidable opponent, the new female would be up against serious opposition to ever get a say in anything. Feuding between the alphas made everyone tense and anxious, which led to more squabbling down the ranks. And though it was ultimately a sign of the Council taking care of its people, the need to bring in a new alpha was also taken as something of an insult, a declaration of shame and failure in the Den, as they had been unable to recruit and train a suitable female of their own.
But as Caroline sat there, running over all the possibilities in her mind, she happened to glance at Silas.
He was watching her, a grim, calculating look on his face. He seemed to weigh her carefully, unhurried in his assessment… and then, totally ignoring the ongoing chaos around them, he gave her the slightest of nods.
Caroline’s eyes opened wide in surprise. It wasn’t a totally new idea, Silas having brought it up several years ago in far different circumstances than this, but Caroline had assumed that it had been merely a bait, designed to get her to focus more on her training and strengthen the Den. She’d never imagined that he could actually mean for her to…
Bloody hell. She glanced at Baron, who was busy cursing under his breath. A new alpha meant one hell of a headache for him as well, and he caught her gaze, rolled his eyes and looked away, before seeming to do something of a mental double-take. He glanced back at her, then quickly over to Silas, the highest ranking male after Baron… and a strange calm seemed to come over him.
Across the room, Caleb, the next in rank after Silas, was pacing the room. Not one for displays of temper, he was nonetheless agitated about Anna’s announced retirement, lost in dark thoughts – their Den had been through enough chaos and trauma in recent years, nearly having been shut down at one point before Baron had stepped in and taken control, and this did not bode well for their continued future stability. It took a long moment for Baron to catch his eye, and then he nodded clearly, but subtly at Caroline. Half a dozen arguments were still going on around the room, and no one else was paying them any mind.
Caleb glanced over at her and rolled his eyes, but then he paused, as Baron quirked one eyebrow upward and added a faint hint of desperation to his expression. It was fascinating, as Caroline watched. So many conversations going on around the room, and the most serious of them were being conducted without a single word. Such was the way of it, when half their lives were spent in a form that could not speak, when they were dependent on body language to convey a wealth of meaning in situations from the most mundane to the most drastic of emergencies.
Caleb gave her another look, long, lingering… and then he nodded, a grim, resolute expression on his face.
Baron turned back to Caroline and nodded once, and with that single gesture, she knew she had, by some bizarre quirk of fate, just secured the most senior female rank in the Den. With the three top ranking males on her side, and no other female a serious contender, her victory was all but assured.
The idea was terrifying.
Not that it meant she wasn’t going to have to fight to get there. The rest of the Den might not get on board with the plan quite so quickly, and if she was entirely honest with herself, Caroline had absolutely no idea how to be alpha anyway. It was a role chock full of responsibility and ritual, fraught with danger, with Caroline expected to lay down her life for her Den, should they come under attack.