Father sighed and returned his attention to me. “What more do you have for me, son?”
Not deigning to spare Benedictus a glance, I focused my eyes on my father.
“While the Hikshil have agreed to maintain our working relationship, they still do not agree with our uses of the wellspring. They ask, again, that we limit the commercial aspect of the wellspring in the future. They wish it to remain more of a shamanistic and spiritual item, rather than something to make us rich.”
There was a stirring around the room, which I’d anticipated. This was a delicate topic, and one most of us did not want to think about. Without the wellspring’s benefits, our clan would be bankrupt.
My father eyed me warily. “Do they make this suggestion in earnest? Or do they make this request on friendly terms?”
“It was a simple request between trade partners,” I said. “They simply wished to let us know their opinion on the matter. They will not restrict our use, but they do want us to understand the gravity of the situation. New human construction near their lands is planned in the coming years. One of those being a solar power plant. As you know, this may have a dulling effect on the wellspring,” I explained. “The Hikshil simply want us to know that continuing to use the wellspring as we have may deplete its energy even more.”
Father nodded gravely as he absorbed my words.
“Understood,” he said at last, then sighed wearily. “Of course, we cannot allow that. Their request, however, does not fall on deaf ears. When I have some free time, I will dispatch a letter to the head of the Hikshil tribe and assure him I understand his worries.” He waved a hand about as if shooing a fly. “I’ll say all the right things to placate their worries. We’ll also look into the human construction. Perhaps, through our contacts, we can try and nudge the humans to build elsewhere.”
Bowing my head, I said, “I believe that would go a long way with easing their fears, Father.”
“And what of the Laurents?” he asked as I lifted my head. “Any word of them in your travels?”
“Bah,” Benedictus spat. “Who cares what those mongrel dogs think?”
“Ben, I think His Majesty deserves to hear the information from the prince’s mouth himself,” said Cornelius, an older man with graying hair.
The Laurents, the powerful family who reigned over the entire wolf shifter kingdom, were the sworn enemies of our house and our kind. There had always been tension there, and due to the fact that they controlled the second-largest wellspring of magic and envied our larger source, there were always barbs being thrown back and forth between dragon and wolf shifters. Those who were more prejudiced, like Benedictus, exacerbated things even more than they already were.
“Lord Beatrix,” I said, addressing Benedictus. “I think, perhaps, we would be best served to worry about problems and people we do have under our protection. Our people need our minds on them, not on some distant enemy.” I didn’t hide the self-satisfied smirk that flicked to my lips as Benedictus’s face grew red.
The man glanced at my father, who looked like he also wanted to call him down. Benedictus nodded in surrender and plastered a faux smile on his face.
“My apologies, Your Highness. I would love to hear any news you have of our dragon lands,” Benedictus said.
One of Benedictus’s friends on the council, Selinius Corsair, spoke up after a not-so-subtle look from the Beatrix House Lord.
“Might I ask, Your Highness,” Selinius said, “why are we allowing these fae to dictate to us what we can and cannot do with the wellspring?” He gave my father a simpering look. “Your Majesty, do we not control these lands that the wellspring sits upon? Do we not protect these fae from the human world? Should they not be offering all they can to us in return for our mercy?”
This was getting exhausting. It was all I could do not to show my irritation. These pompous bastards were using the court and all its finery and diplomacy to drag long-held grudges and slights into the light of day. It was childish beyond belief, and drained what little patience I had.
“The religious fervor is a bit tiresome,” another man agreed. “Wouldn’t it be better for them to join the twenty-first century rather than continuing to bask in this strange near-hermeticism they like to live in?”
It went on like that for another five minutes with others speaking up. Some sided with the fae, while others agreed with Benedictus and Selinius.
“What you should care about,” I finally said, raising my voice to be heard over the arguments, “is that the Hikshil tribe have no wish to use the wellspring for commerce, as I’ve already said. That alone should allay your fears. Let them have their religion-let them worship how they wish as long as they do no harm to us nor others. They are leery of both us and the Laurents, but trust us more, and therefore count us as allies. We must continue that relationship as equals, not as a master and servant.
“Now. Can we please get back on track?” I glared around at the men, some casting their eyes down in chastised shame, others staring back with thinly veiled anger.
“My son is right,” Father said, with a single bang of his fist on the table. “Let’s leave this discussion for another time.” Father at last gestured to the empty seat to his right. “Come. Sit. You should help lead this meeting, as the throne will soon be yours by rights.”
Giving him a single nod of acceptance, I circled the table and took my seat beside him as instructed.
Father stood again, addressing the council.
“On to other, though somewhat connected, items,” he said. “We do have something about the Laurents we must discuss.”
“Their encroachment on our supply lines?” I asked.
He nodded. “They have been inching closer and closer to the areas where we transport our wellspring items out of Hikshil territory and into more direct lines of highway and rail transportation.” He picked up a small remote control, then turned and clicked the next slide on the large screen behind him. “Here we have the most up to date map of the Laurent family movements…”
Ispun the top off a crystal bottle of bourbon and poured myself a very large drink. The meeting had left me emotionally drained in a way I couldn’t even describe. Not once did anyone mention why their meeting took place early. Perhaps some of them hoped to garner favor with my father in my absence. The fact that Father had gone along with it irked me even more.
Just as I was about to take a sip, a sharp tap-tap-tap came at the doors to my quarters
“Blasted hell.” I put the glass down and raised my voice. “Who the hell is it?”
“Your only friends, you ass,” a muffled voice called from beyond the heavy wooden door.
My irritated frown vanished, and I opened the door to see Raspion and Vincent standing in the hall. Rasp smiled broadly, and Vince flashed me a happy but somewhat awkward grin.
“Get in here,” I said. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you two.”
Rasp stepped in and made a beeline for the small bar, picking up a bottle and admiring the clear liquid inside.
“Gin. My favorite,” he said as he poured himself a drink.
“A drink, Vincent?” I asked.
“Oh, no. I’m fine,” Vincent said.
Raspion, my baby cousin, was several years younger than me and not quite the brightest bulb in the family. He had a good nature, though, and didn’t treat me with deference the way many in the other families and even my own household did. We had the same strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes, but he was beefier and bulkier in his musculature. Where I was more lithe, like a swimmer or gymnast, he was the spitting image of a football linebacker.
Vincent was Benedictus Beatrix’s son. As much as I disliked his father, I liked Vincent even more. Vince was every inch a different man than his father. In fact, his difference was what caused Benedictus to mostly isolate and ignore him. Vincent was kind-hearted, if a little awkward. He was somehow both lethal in a fight, yet a gentle giant in most other things. Rather than being outspoken and well-versed in public, he tended to be more quiet and reserved, sometimes stumbling over his words if he got too anxious. The mountain of a man would have been more at home in quiet solitude with a couple of friends than in a boardroom or court meeting. Because of that, Benedictus thought he was an abject failure to their family. I’d befriended him and taken him under my wing at a young age, and that simple kindness had caused him to latch on to me and Rasp in a way I hadn’t anticipated, but never questioned.
He ducked his head under the door as he came in, a strange mannerism he always did even though he was only six foot three, an inch below my own six-four. His dark hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail, hung almost to his broad shoulders.
More Kickass Werewolf Reads
Dive into our collection of free werewolf romance novels—where fierce Alphas, daring heroines, and heart-stopping twists await. Every story burns with forbidden desire, loyalty, and destiny. Don’t wait—here’s a world where love bites hard and nothing is stronger than the call of the mate.
Leave a Reply