Chapter 7 – The Council’s Eyes
1398 Words
Lucien Starvale’s temporary office was tucked into the quietest corner of the main house, as far from the training grounds and kitchens as possible. Neutral ground, he’d called it with a pleasant smile.
It still felt like enemy territory.
An assistant showed me in with a bow and a nervous glance. Lucien sat behind a broad oak desk, papers spread in neat stacks, a teapot steaming gently at his elbow. The window behind him framed the dark line of the forest.
“Lyris,” he said, rising smoothly. “Thank you for coming.”
“As if I had a choice,” I said, keeping my voice polite.
His mouth quirked. “We all have more choices than we think. Tea?”
“No, thank you.”
He poured himself a cup anyway, the motion unhurried. Not a hair out of place, jacket perfectly tailored, silver pin of the Council gleaming at his lapel. He looked less like a wolf and more like a diplomat from some human embassy.
“Sit,” he invited.
I stayed standing a beat too long just to be difficult, then took the chair opposite him. My palms were damp. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, hackles up.
He studied me for a moment over the rim of his cup.
“You were… not what I expected,” he said finally.
“Your reports again?” I asked. “You should demand a refund.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps.” He set the cup down, lacing his fingers. “My information painted a picture of a young woman who took pride in order. Who valued structure, rules, responsibility.”
“I still do,” I said. “I just don’t confuse ‘structure’ with blindly doing what I’m told.”
“Ah.” His eyes warmed in brief approval. “Spoken like a true Beta.”
Then his gaze sharpened.
“Help me understand, then,” he went on. “In the span of a few days, you have refused a standard contract, undermined a sacred ritual, and publicly questioned your healer and High Priestess. What changed?”
You killed me.
“I started paying attention,” I said instead. “I started asking who benefits from the things we’re told are ‘for our own good.’”
“And your conclusion?” he asked mildly.
“That not all of it is for Mistveil’s good,” I said. “Some of it is for the Council’s. Some of it is for specific wolves who happen to stand very close to power.”
His smile didn’t slip, but something in his eyes did. “Big words,” he murmured. “Dangerous ones.”
“Is it dangerous to say the obvious?” I asked. “My father is getting sicker the more he ‘rests’ and drinks his prescribed blends. Alpha Rylan hasn’t been himself in over a year. We hold more ‘clarity rites’ than training drills some weeks.”
He tapped one finger lightly on the desk. “You believe there is deliberate harm being done.”
“I believe,” I said slowly, “that if people are getting weaker while the same few wolves get stronger, it’s not an accident.”
He studied me in silence. For a moment, the air felt thick.
“Eryx Valemir,” he said at last. “Do you trust him?”
My heart lurched. “You tell me. I’m sure your files are full of praise.”
He ignored the barb. “I’ve known him since he was younger than you are now. Brilliant, dedicated, very loyal to Mistveil.” His head tilted. “He speaks of you with… affection. Concern.”
“He speaks very well,” I said. “He’s a healer. That’s half the job.”
“Hmm.” Lucien’s gaze never left my face. “And Serapha?”
I swallowed. “She’s the Council’s High Priestess. Isn’t that supposed to mean you trust her without question?”
“If I wanted rote recitation of dogma,” he said lightly, “I’d have asked her here instead of you.”
He waited.
I exhaled slowly. “I think Serapha loves order more than she loves wolves,” I said. “I think if you gave her a choice between saving a pack and preserving a ritual, she’d let the pack burn and call it holy.”
A slow, delighted smile curved his mouth. “Now that is an interesting assessment.”
My skin prickled. “You asked.”
“I did.” He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Tell me, Lyris: do you think the Council itself is corrupt?”
The room seemed to shrink. This was the question that mattered.
Careful, my wolf warned. One wrong syllable, and they’ll call you mad.
“I think,” I said, picking each word like it might explode, “that any group that answers only to itself will eventually stop hearing those it claims to serve.”
He hummed. “For someone who refused a clarity rite, your mind seems very clear indeed.”
“I don’t need smoke and chanting to know what I see,” I muttered.
His eyes sharpened. “Ah yes. The rites. You’ve been… resistant to Serapha’s guidance of late. Why?”
“Because when I walk out of the temple, I don’t feel lighter,” I said. “I feel… blurred. Like my questions are wrapped in cotton.”
“Is that not the point of easing anxiety?” he asked softly. “Blurring the edges until the pain dulls?”
“At the cost of what?” I shot back. “At the cost of your own instincts? Your own doubt when something is wrong?”
We stared at each other across the desk.
Finally, he smiled, slow and satisfied.
“You are going to give us such a headache,” he said. “Serapha was right about that, at least.”
My heart stuttered. “You’ve discussed me.”
“Of course,” he said easily. “You are the future Beta of a key pack. Your stability—or instability—is our concern. You know that.”
My hands curled into fists in my lap.
“And what’s your verdict?” I asked. “Unstable enough to leash? Or just enough of a nuisance to keep an eye on?”
He laughed quietly. “I think you are… at a crossroads. You can become the Council’s strongest ally, if we earn your trust. Or its most dangerous irritant, if we do not.”
“Not its enemy?” I asked.
“Enemies are simple,” he said. “We know what to do with them. Irritants? They spread.” His eyes danced. “You already have friends listening to you, don’t you? Kessa. Some of the younger warriors. Your brother.”
My stomach dropped. “Leave them out of this.”
“Oh, I have no intention of dragging anyone anywhere,” he said smoothly. “Provided their future Beta doesn’t drag them herself.”
I swallowed, throat tight. “Is that a threat?”
“A caution,” he said. “You are asking good questions, Lyris. I would hate to see you declared ‘unfit’ before we are done hearing them.”
The way he said declared made my skin crawl.
“Sleep,” he added, picking up his cup again. “Let your father read the contract. Let Alpha Rylan decide how to proceed. And consider that the Council is not a faceless monster. It is wolves. Some better. Some worse. All… very interested in what you do next.”
I stood, legs a little shaky. “Are you?”
“Oh, intensely,” he said with a pleasant smile. “You weren’t like this in my reports. I’m curious what changed.”
I met his eyes, pulse roaring. For a second, I almost told him.
“I did,” I said instead. “I finally remembered who I’m supposed to protect.”
“From whom?” he asked.
I opened the door without answering.
As it shut behind me, I heard him murmur, almost to himself, “Let’s see which way you crack, little Beta.”
The Council had its eyes on me now.
Good.
I needed them looking the wrong way when I finally struck back.
- Writer
