"The benefits Skybern offers us,offers the betasyou'reresponsible for?—"
"I am responsible for the Hills, for our dragonkin, yes. I am not responsible for Danielson's gambling debts, or McKinney's mismanagement of his own fields. Honestly, Keane, youknowthis as well as I do. You also know what we risk by giving Skybern this grip in our territory." The sun was low in the sky, and I was exhausted, and this damn meeting was going nowhere. I never should've agreed to hear Keane out again, but I hadn't expected an exact rehashing of issues we'd presumably put to bed several times over already.
"What I know, what every dragon I speak to agrees, is that your priorities lie in the wrong place now, my lord. As evidenced by?—"
Sam Cameron cleared his throat at my side, his eyes narrowed on the older dragon. "Be careful what you say next. As for the alpha's priorities, it's clear you're speaking to your own circle and not the majority of the Hills' betas."
I couldn't let myself release an outright sigh, but I took the brief reprieve from the council's focus to breathe out my nose, trying to force some of my tension out as well.
Keane's feathers were ruffled, and he shifted in his seat, staring down his narrow nose at the younger man. "While you might be very grateful to the alpha for your recent elevation?—"
"Are you saying there's some superiority between us outside of he who rises as alpha? Can you point to it, sir, so I might recognize it too?" Sam bit out.
I raised my hand and Sam settled back into his chair, glaring daggers at Francis Keane. On Sam's other side, another of the younger betas clapped my friend on the shoulder. The council had grown contentious as of late, I admitted, but there was a balance in the arguments. Unlike my father, who had surrounded himself with the same men all his life, I was hearingallof the betas' differing opinions, not just those of my own generation. That didn't stop me from having a preference as to the opinions expressed.
"MacIntyre, you tell him. You're the only one he listens to," Keane bit out, narrowed eyes turning to my old friend, the closest figure I had left to my father.
It was a punch to the gut to think he might've been won over by the likes of Keane—Keane, who wanted to sell us, our land and dignity, to the highest bidder.
"You think we should sell?" I asked, baffled. Had Ned fallen on hard times without me realizing? If so, it was true he was the kind of man who would be too proud to say so directly.
"It's not that," Ned said with a quick roll of his eyes in Keane's direction. "But I…" He scowled and looked around the table, shooting me an indecipherable look. Ned had always given me his truest opinion in private. He rarely attended council meetings like this, and he'd once referred to these settings as packs of wild dogs waiting to snatch food from each other's mouths.
"Go on, Ned," I said, voice low but without growl or censure.
He sighed. "You know I've concern for where your first interests lie. You…you push dragonkin to your liking, lad."
"I push you forward, you mean," I said.
He shrugged. "'Forward' is only defined by the man holding the map. You can't herd men like sheep, la—I mean, milord. My concerns are what happens when you let too many slip through your grip." His eyes slid toward Keane for a moment. His words were meant to be a warning to me, the advice of a friend, not just a reprimand.
But the advice was to keep the status quo rather than challenge my people to grow. Ned was more afraid of giving offense than of what would happen by risking our women's lives and happiness. More afraid of refusing men like Keane than of what happened when those men finally died and there was no one in a position to carry their place to be a new leader.
I took a deep breath and circled my gaze around the table, bracing myself for the blow as much as the men who had the guts to raise their eyes to meet mine. "I will not coddle the fears of men who seek to keep us in the dark ages. We can grow, if we are wise enough to do so. We can protect our people, if we are brave enough to do so. And we can meet the changes ahead of us, if we have the sense not to hide in the past.
"I refuse to allow Grave Hills to be bought out from under its own people," I continued, pulling my gaze from Ned and turning onto Keane, who no longer bothered to hide his malice. This argument wasn't over between us. He'd found his way into Damian Worthington's pocket without my realizing. They'd made up their mind to give Skybern a grip in Grave Hills, and my refusal wouldn't stop their scheming.
I'd never wanted to be the kind of alpha who planted spies in other dragonkin territories, but I might need to call in comfortable favors now. Worthington wouldn't show his hand until too late, and if it held any serious force, I needed to be ready.
Chapter Thirty-Six
BRIGID
Ipaused in the door of Torion's office, my hand raising to rest over my racing heartbeat as I caught sight of the pair of them. Torion's arm curled toward his chest, cradling Tylane there even as she squirmed and kicked impatiently, small grunts of sound from her precious bow lips entertaining them both.
"I thought it might be feeding time," Torion said, glancing up at me with a soft smile. "She gets bossy, like you, when she's hungry."
Tylane's face turned into Torion's shirt, likely leaving a wet mark from her open mouth there. She slapped a small red fist to his heart, and the grip of her perfect possession squeezed in my own chest. This tiny child owned us absolutely with the blink of her eyes.
"Did it startle you when she wasn't with the nurses?"
I shook my head and entered the room. "I knew she'd be with you. They said as much."
"Did you get some sleep?"
I laughed. "After last night, I was so tired it was impossible not to. Have you, yet?"
Torion turned his face back down to gaze at Tylane, and even as the lines of tension eased, they didn't vanish completely. His head shook slightly.
