Fresh bile surged in my throat at the sight of him, and I tore my focus away.
Pascal beckoned to me, and I stood between her and a ceremonial-looking boulder that separated us from the Luthers. I’d expected to sit in the front row, but the head team faced our tribe like groomsmen in a wedding.
Rhona echoed Sascha’s position on the other side, raising her chin as she regarded our people.
They were her people. They saw her poise and were proud.
My heart filled because, truly, she had nothing to worry about. And I’d do everything in my power to help her.
Pascal left my side and stood before the ceremonial boulder. A dark-haired werewolf joined her, but I knew not to disregard his youthful appearance. Sascha was nearly a century old. This guy could be ancient.
“Let a Luther shift, so all may be assured of the truth of these proceedings,” Pascal spoke.
Mandy shifted, eliciting an alarmed murmur from the watching stewards.
She lay at Sascha’s feet, alert.
“May all bear witness to the will and testament of a much-beloved leader, Hercules Bowen Thana. Son of Charise and Nicholas Thana. Sister of Ragna Booker. And beloved father.”
She’d missed off uncle. The omission relieved me.
I didn’t deserve recognition in his death. The Luthers looked at me, and I glared back until some lowered their eyes.
As Pascal set a carved wooden box on the boulder, the pack’s marshal passed her a key.
She opened the box and extracted a scroll.
Rhona was pale, focused on Pascal. Otherwise, she had control over her need for revenge. Which was good because I was, by far, the worse fighter between us—even if she didn’t have weapons.
Her eyes flicked to mine, and I nodded in encouragement.
Pascal unfurled the scroll, scanning the gathered crowd.
She turned to Sascha, and I forced myself to look at him, to get used to being in his presence. I couldn’t let the Luther cloud my judgement ever again, and that meant learning to push everything aside to deal with him.
I’d spend my life ensuring he never won the game.
“Does the leader of the Luthers, Sascha Alarick Greyson, agree that the contents of this will and testament are final and binding?”
Sascha didn’t return my condemning look. “I agree that the contents are final and binding.”
There had to be a lot of red tape on what could be included in a leader’s will because agreeing beforehand seemed careless.
Pascal faced the stewards. “Do the stewards, children of the Ni Tiaki tribe, agree that the contents of this will and testament are final and binding?”
I would follow Rhona without question. She understood the gravity of her role—no matter what Herc’s reservations had been.
“We agree,” the stewards boomed as one.
Shit, missed it.
Pascal glanced at me. “Andie Charise Booker, do you also agree?”
I met her calm gaze. “I agree wholeheartedly.”
Rhona threw me a quick smile that I returned.
Pascal stood side by side with the other marshal, their shoulders nearly touching as she raised the scroll to eye level and said, “With both sides bound to the words within, let it be known that Hercules Bowen Thana will be succeeded in Victratum by his eldest child, Andie Charise Thana.”
I didn’t register her words at first.
Gasps rocketed through seventeen hundred onlookers, replacing their leaden attentiveness.
I stared at Pascal, numb. Ears buzzing.
That’s not right.
“Andie Charise Booker,” Pascal repeated, extending the will to me.
I didn’t reach for it, locked in place. Rhona snatched it away.
“There’s been a mistake.” But she didn’t read the will. Rhona looked at me instead. “Is this true?”
“The box contains a birth certificate,” the Luther marshal said, a paper in his hands. “Her father was Hercules Thana. Her mother was Savannah Thana.”
My soul left me then.
It just left.
My cousin wasn’t my cousin.
Rhona was my sister.
Oh, god. Herc was my father.
So many lies.
Mum wasn’t my mum
She wasn’t my mother.
I turned to stone—from the inside out. Steel coated my heart. My mind froze. My expression smoothed to a hardness I’d only seen in others.
I met Rhona’s wide gaze. “I didn’t know.”
Her face crumpled. I took her hand to lay a gentle kiss on the back.
“If you need to leave, then go,” I said softly. “I’ll be with you soon.”
Not needing more encouragement, my cousin—my sister—fled. The gaping stewards and Luthers parting like curtains in some dreadful theatre show.
Dispassionately, cut off, I noted smirks from several werewolves. Were they enjoying this?
Did they think Rhona and the tribe were easy targets now?
“Andie,” Pascal hushed. “You agreed to be bound to the will.”
I regarded her.
She’d known what the will said. Why else ensure I agreed in advance? My reply was icy. “I’m aware.”
The woman lowered her gaze. “Then please step forward to claim your birthright.”
My birthright?
What a fucking joke.
One person made me step forward.
Rhona.
I took the hit for both of us and left the row of shocked head team members to step forward.
Had they known?
Did everyone know but me?
I clung to the coarse hardness inside as I faced one thousand appalled stewards. I listened to the screech of tires as Rhona made her escape.
A spear was passed into my hand. A cape of feathers rested on my shoulders. With deft fingers, Pascal twisted my hair up, inserting an ornate jade pin to hold the thick mass in place. Roderick passed her a bowl and a floral oil was smeared on my forehead.
“Will you protect the stewards of Ni Tiaki with your final breath, Andie Thana?” Pascal said.
I had to get away. “I will.”
“Will you lead us in Victratum to the best of your ability?”
My ability was about zero. “I will.”
She faced our tribe. “Stewards, the blood of our ancestors runs strong in this woman. Through her, we will be protected. Through her, we will be led! All here today lay witness. Andie Charise Thana is head steward and leader of the Ni Tiaki.”
I gazed back at the shaken tribe.
No one cheered. No one made a fucking sound. Wade and Cameron were white-faced in the second row.
“The leaders must meet in the spirit of Victratum,” the other marshal boomed.
I managed one step, but Sascha crossed the ground between us. He stopped before me and I met his gaze, aware that anything less would be viewed as a weakness.
The shadow in his eyes was marked, and he flinched at whatever he saw on my face.
Good.
Forcing my lips upward, I extended a hand to him. “The best of luck to you, Luther.”
Growls arose from his pack at the disgust I infused into the word.
Sascha took my hand, tilting his chin down so his hair swung forward.
I, alone, saw when his eyes turned pitch-black.
Greyson spoke softly, gravel riding his voice. “And to you, mate. Let the game truly begin.”
Andie and Sascha’s story continues in MOON CLAIMED.
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MOON CLAIMED
Supernatural Battle: Werewolf Dens, #2
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Books By Kelly St. Clare
Supernatural Battle
Vampire Towers (Paranormal urban romance)
Blood Trial
Vampire Debt
Death Game
Werewolf Dens (Paranormal urban romance)
Shifter Wars
Moon Claimed
Wolf Roulette
The Darkest Drae (Dragon shifter romance)
with Raye Wagner
Blood Oath
Shadow Wings
Black Crown
The Tainted Accords (Royal fantasy romance):
Fantasy of Frost
Fantasy of Flight
Fantasy of Fire
Fantasy of Freedom
Novellas:
Sin
Olandon
Rhone
Shard
Pirates of Felicity (Pirate fantasy romance):
Immortal Plunder
Stolen Princess
Pillars of Six
Dynami’s Wrath
Veritas
Eternal Gambit
Mortal Trinity
Last Battle for Earth (Dystopian romance):
Earth’s Warrior
Rebel’s Crusade
Traitor’s Mandate
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Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1) Page 35