“I am the pack alpha!”
“I didn’t ask you to escort me. All I need is a guide who knows the territory. Kirk will do.” I took a bite of bread, chewed, and swallowed. “If you’re too busy managing pack politics while your people lose their ability to shift, that’s certainly your choice.”
His eyes narrowed.
I waited for the explosion I knew was coming. Why was I enjoying our verbal sparring so much?
But the contamination was spreading. Every day we delayed was another day someone else could lose their ability to shift. He knew that as well as I did. Better, probably, since he carried the weight of every affected pack member.
He could refuse. It was well within his authority. But I sensed he wouldn’t. Not if I framed it correctly.
“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” I said, keeping my voice level. “I need someone who knows which tributaries connect tothe main creek, what game trails cross through the area, and whether there are any abandoned dens or territorial markers that might indicate magical interference. Someone familiar with the land.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “You’re manipulating me.”
“I’m presenting logical arguments.”
“You’re challenging me to prove I care more about pride than pack safety.”
“Is it working?”
His jaw clenched. Then he shoved back from the table and grabbed his coat from the chair.
Trying not to smile, I stood, brushing crumbs from my skirt. Acorn leaped, flying to the table, where he grabbed two pieces of meat and stuffed them in his cheeks before hopping onto my shoulder. His tail curled around my neck for balance.
Feral looked from the squirrel to me. “Does he always steal food he can’t possibly eat in one sitting?”
“He’s optimistic about his storage capacity.”
A smile crossed his face, gone almost before I registered it.
He held the door open, and I walked through.
The three of us descended the spiral staircase together, Acorn humming on my shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FERAL
We reached the base of the tree and stepped outside into sunlight bright enough it made me squint. The clearing bustled with activity. A group of warriors sparred in an open area, their wooden staffs clacking in a steady rhythm. Maria and Tessa, as usual, were kicking the males’ asses. A cluster of pack members tended vegetable gardens along the eastern edge of the compound. Others hauled firewood, repaired a section of a stone wall, or carried bundles of supplies toward the storage trees.
Scenes like this made me proud of my pack.
“Lady Victoria.” One of the gardeners waved, a young male named Robin who’d lost his shift three months ago. He looked better than the last time I’d seen him, less gray and more animated. “Good morning.”
Victoria lifted a hand. “Good morning, Robin. How are you feeling?”
“Better, actually. That tea you suggested is helping.”
Her smile came genuine, and it softened her whole face. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Maria called out next, pausing mid-strike to grin at us. “Morning, Alpha. Morning, Victoria.” Her grin widened before she ducked a swing from her sparring partner and retaliated with a sweep that sent him sprawling.
A touch of irritation shot through me, because this showed my wife had been strolling around, speaking with my pack members. But the feeling died fast. She’d been getting to know my pack. Learning their names. Asking about their duties and their health. Making an effort.
The realization sat warm in my chest, right next to the pride I refused to examine too closely.
We crossed the clearing, heading toward the northern path. Victoria pulled out her notebook, her enchanted pen hovering beside it.
