Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Caine: Banquet (II)

CAINE

Fenris doesn’t acknowledge the greeting, instead fixing his gaze on something beyond the Alpha’s shoulder. I follow his line of sight to a display of ancient-looking weapons mounted on the wall inside—ceremonial, but deadly nonetheless.

There is blood. Fresh. Not even a day old.

My nostrils flare, but I can’t pick up any scent.

Halloway’s eyes drift over our party, dismissing Andrew and Thom almost immediately before pausing on Elizabeth with a distinct frown. Then he settles his attention on Jack-Eye, his lips thinning. Not quite hostile, but… something. “I see your beta has dressed for the occasion.”

Jack-Eye inclines his head. “I believe in respecting local customs, Alpha Halloway.”

“Indeed.” The Fiddleback Alpha’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And the others are…?”

“My warlock,” I say, nodding toward Thom, who shrinks further into himself. “And a wolf from Blue Mountain.”

“Ah.” A flash of recognition crosses Halloway’s face as he looks at Andrew. “From the rumors. You have our condolences.”

Andrew says nothing, his posture rigid.

The alpha steps aside, allowing us entry into a vast open space with vaulted ceilings and tables draped in white linens. The room buzzes with at least fifty wolves, all in formal attire, watching us. A string quartet plays in the corner, though the music falters as the musicians notice our arrival. They’re all human.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Halloway says, gesturing to the gathering, “but word of your visit spread quickly. Many were eager to pay their respects.”

As if he didn’t spread the word himself. My lips quirk. I’m sure he’s assembled his entire inner circle, possibly his full pack hierarchy. It is interesting he could call in so many on such short notice.

They’re either incredibly loyal… or deeply afraid of their alpha.

“My pack takes pride in our efficiency,” he adds, as if reading my thoughts.

A server, also human, appears with champagne flutes on a silver tray. I wave them away with a sharp gesture. Halloway takes one, sipping delicately.

“I was hoping for a private discussion,” I say.

“Of course, High Alpha. After dinner.” His smile tightens. “But surely you understand—it would be an insult to deprive my pack of the chance to honor your presence.”

Halloway raises his glass in a grand gesture, eyes searching the crowd in a manner I can only describe as practiced theater. “Tonight, we celebrate an unprecedented honor—the presence of the Lycan King himself.”

A chorus of approval ripples through the attendees. I nod once, sharply, refusing to play this game of ceremonial adoration. The music swells slightly as conversation resumes, and Halloway guides us deeper into the gathering.

My jaw’s already clenched with the anticipation of holding my temper at bay for an hour or more.

“Might I introduce some of our most esteemed members, High Alpha?”

I say nothing, which he takes as permission.

Within minutes, I’m surrounded by eager Fiddleback wolves, each desperate for a sliver of my attention. Some bow deeply, others attempt conversation with rehearsed questions about Lycan territory. I answer in clipped sentences when required, my attention split between the sycophants and Fenris’s increasing agitation.

He’s surrounded by his own adulating fans, and I can feel his temptation to disperse.

Something’s wrong here, he says, sounding confused. Something smells strange.

A quick glance behind me shows Thom nervously hovering by Andrew’s side. The latter looks bored, and his dark eyes meet mine with the faintest hint of defiance before he lowers his gaze in deference.

Don’t even think about it.

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