Chapter 7: The Chair Beside Him
1296 Words
The Roarke assembly hall had room for two hundred people and nowhere Vespera Morcant could sit without being seen.
She paused inside the entrance while guards checked invitations behind her. Long tables filled the floor beneath the pack banners. At the raised front table, seven chairs faced the gathering.
Her chair was gone.
For four years, it had stood immediately to Tavian Roarke’s right. The position carried no formal title. Vespera had used it to pass him notes, warn him when an elder was about to leave, and intercept questions before they became public arguments.
Tonight, Mirelle Dacre sat there.
A pale silver ribbon crossed Mirelle’s shoulder and fastened near the red mark at her throat. It was the ribbon traditionally worn by an Alpha’s Omega companion at social gatherings.
Mirelle was a Beta.
No one at the front table appeared confused.
Sable Wythe stopped beside Vespera. “We can leave.”
“The registrar’s representative is here.”
“They can send the dissolution documents to the house.”
“They asked me to verify the ring was returned.”
Sable looked toward Tavian.
The ring was not visible on his hand. It would be in his pocket, his office, or beside last night’s plate. Vespera had not asked.
“You have a fever,” Sable said.
“I don’t.”
“You did an hour ago.”
“I took the medication.”
“That was not the same as becoming healthy.”
A staff member hurried toward them carrying a place card.
“Miss Morcant. We placed you near the east aisle.”
“Where?”
He pointed to a chair at the end of the lowest side table.
The seat was close to the doors and behind two visiting trade clerks. Someone had written VESPERA MORCANT across a folded card. No mate title. No pack designation.
The dissolution review had not been approved. Until it was, she remained Tavian’s provisional mate.
The household had removed the position before the registrar removed the claim.
Sable took the place card from the worker. “Who ordered this?”
“Alpha Roarke approved the seating this afternoon.”
“Did he approve the ribbon too?”
The worker’s eyes moved toward Mirelle and away. “I only handled cards.”
Vespera took the card from Sable.
“Thank you,” she told him.
He left too quickly.
At the front, Tavian looked up. His gaze found Vespera, then moved to the empty space where her chair should have been.
He said something to Mirelle.
Mirelle touched the ribbon. She did not remove it.
Tavian descended from the raised platform and crossed the hall.
“You came.”
“The registrar requested it.”
His attention went to Sable. “Does she need to be standing?”
“She needs to be in bed.”
“I can answer for myself,” Vespera said.
Tavian looked back at her. “Your seat is near the aisle in case you need to leave.”
“My normal seat was also near an aisle.”
“This one is closer to the exit.”
“You could have left the chair where it was.”
His mouth flattened. “I thought you no longer wanted it.”
“The position or the furniture?”
A nearby guard turned his attention to the invitation list.
Tavian lowered his voice. “Not here.”
“Then you should not have moved it here.”
Mirelle approached before he could answer. She walked without assistance, although she carried one hand near her throat.
The silver ribbon caught the overhead light.
“I asked them not to make a fuss,” she said.
Sable looked at the ribbon. “That failed.”
Mirelle’s fingers tightened against her collarbone. “Tavian said the gathering would be difficult after Elder Halwen withdrew. I offered to help receive guests.”
“That ribbon is not worn by greeters,” Vespera said.
Color rose beneath Mirelle’s makeup. “It was brought to my room.”
“And you put it on.”
“Tavian said it would prevent questions.”
“It creates one.”
Tavian stepped between their lines of sight. “The ribbon identifies Mirelle as under my protection. Nothing more.”
A bell sounded at the front of the hall. Conversations quieted.
The registrar’s representative entered through a side door carrying a narrow document case.
Vespera held out her place card to Tavian.
“I won’t use this.”
“You need to sit.”
“Then return my chair.”
Mirelle looked toward the front table. “I can move.”
Tavian turned to her. “No.”
The answer came too quickly.
People close enough to hear became interested in their drinks.
Tavian noticed. His shoulders settled into the posture he used when a private disagreement threatened his authority in public.
“The seating is fixed,” he said.
Vespera placed the card on a serving tray beside the wall. “Then I will stand.”
“You are too weak to stand through the gathering.”
“That concern would have been more convincing before you moved me behind the trade clerks.”
Sable touched Vespera’s elbow. “We can wait outside for the registrar.”
Tavian blocked the most direct path to the doors.
“Vespera, take the assigned seat.”
“No.”
His scent sharpened.
It reached her through food, packed bodies, and Mirelle’s strangely sweet perfume. The provisional mark beneath Vespera’s blouse tightened in response. Her body knew Tavian’s rank even when she no longer wanted the man carrying it.
The bell sounded again.
At the front table, Garran Roarke stood near the center chair. He did not call for Tavian. He only waited.
Tavian glanced at him.
“Ten minutes,” Tavian said to Vespera. “Sit through the opening. Speak to the registrar afterward.”
“No.”
Mirelle shifted closer to the wall. “This does not need to become public.”
Vespera looked at the silver ribbon. “It became public when you wore that.”
“I didn’t take anything from you.”
“The chair disagrees.”
Mirelle’s expression changed. For one moment, the practiced weakness disappeared.
“You returned the ring,” she said. “Did you expect him to leave everything empty for you?”
Tavian turned. “Mirelle.”
She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
The apology drew more attention than the insult.
Vespera felt the room arranging the story around them. Mirelle in silver. Tavian between the women. Vespera refusing the seat provided to her.
Her pain had become inconvenience. Her withdrawal had become instability. His replacement of her had become practical necessity.
She looked at Tavian.
“Enjoy your gathering.”
Vespera turned toward the doors.
Tavian caught her forearm.
Sable moved at once. “Release her.”
He did, but the pressure remained in his voice.
“You will not walk out while the entire pack is watching.”
Vespera faced him again. “Then you should not have given them this to watch.”
She crossed the entrance threshold.
Cold air touched her face beneath the covered portico. Two guards stood on the steps, one on either side of the path.
Behind her, Tavian followed.
“Come back inside.”
“No.”
The hall doors remained open. Beyond Tavian’s shoulder, Mirelle returned to the raised table.
She sat in Vespera’s chair.
Tavian stepped onto the portico.
His voice changed.
“Vespera.”
Alpha pressure struck the provisional mark.
Her knees weakened, but she caught the stone railing.
Tavian looked at her hand gripping it.
“Do not make me order you.”
Vespera held his gaze.
“Then don’t.”
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD