Page 37 of Alpha Charmed

“She’s got time.” I find the passage I’m looking for—Mathilda’s notes on the dragon’s location, sketched from her one failed attempt to reach the cave. “Here. The entrance to Chione’s lair. It’s in pack territory, deep in the mountains. The path is marked with symbols that respond to claimed pairs.”

“Claimed pairs.” Anouk’s voice goes careful. “That’s going to be a problem.”

“Is it?”

She looks up at me. Those dark eyes hold mine—measuring, considering, calculating options the way she always does. But underneath the analysis, I catch a flicker of heat she’s stopped trying to hide.

“We’re not claimed.” The words come out rough. “Not technically.”

“No.” I set down the journal, turning to face her fully. “Not technically.”

Silence stretches between us. The herbs on her workbench are expanding at an alarming rate—mint spreading toward me like it’s reaching for prey.

“The coven gathering tonight.” Anouk redirects, her voice deliberately professional. “Cordelia will be there. She’ll be watching for any sign that we’ve found new evidence.”

“Then we don’t give her any signs.” I step back, creating space neither of us wants. “We attend. We observe. We let her think she’s still in control.”

“While we plan our next move.”

“While we plan our next move.” I let my gaze linger on her face—the sharp angles, the silver-streaked hair she’s wearing down tonight instead of her usual severe updo. She looks softer like this. More approachable.

More dangerous.

“I should prepare.” She gathers the journal, tucking it into a locked drawer with the care she applies to dangerous ingredients. “The gathering starts at seven. I’ll need to speak with Elder Vera before then, coordinate our positions.”

“And I’ll brief the Network representatives.” I move toward the door, then pause. “Anouk. Tonight. Whatever happens⁠—”

“I know.” Her voice softens, losing its professional edge. “You’ll be there.”

“Always.”

The promise lands between us, heavy with meaning we’re not ready to unpack. She holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods once—acknowledging, accepting, filing away for later consideration.

I leave before I do anything inadvisable involving her workroom and significantly fewer clothes.

The Elder Council Chamber feels different tonight.

I’ve attended coven gatherings before—political necessity, network diplomacy, the endless bureaucratic dance between witches and shifters. The room is always the same: high ceilings, weathered stone, a circular table surrounded by seats that have witnessed centuries of decisions. The enchanted windows show weather that has nothing to do with reality—currently displaying a peaceful sunset despite the actual overcast evening outside.

But tonight, the air crackles with tension I can taste.

The coven’s senior members cluster in their usual factions. Elder Vera Nightbloom stands near Anouk’s empty seat, her expression thoughtful and watchful. Elder Jasper Moonwell hovers uncertainly between groups, clearly hoping to avoid commitment to any position. And Elder Cordelia Ashworth holds court near the refreshment table, her motherly smile firmly in place as she speaks with a cluster of younger witches.

She’s been busy. The gossip currents are obvious even to someone without witch senses—whispered conversations that stop when certain people approach, meaningful glances exchanged across the room, the subtle positioning that precedes political maneuvering.

Cordelia is building support. For what, I’m not entirely certain. But Grandmother’s warnings echo in my mind: she’s been in place for forty years. She knows how to work a crowd.

“You’re glaring.”

Torin appears at my shoulder, his massive frame somehow managing to seem inconspicuous. The bear has a talent for disappearing into backgrounds despite being the largest person in any room.

“I’m observing.”

“Observationally glaring.” He follows my gaze toward Cordelia. “The elder’s been talking to everyone. Making the rounds. Very concerned about ‘recent developments’ and ‘maintaining proper boundaries.’”

“She’s preparing a move.”

“Obviously. The question is when.” Torin shifts his weight, positioning himself to watch multiple angles at once. “Elio sent word. His networks have confirmed movement among Preserver cells in neighboring territories. They’re paying attention to what’s happening in Mistvale.”