Page 7 of Unveiled

Connor moved closer to them. “And next time we meet, you’ll tell me all about who or what everyone seems petrified of. I—”

Xiathen closed Connor’s mouth with a slim finger. “Do not mention them here. We must be vigilant. We promise we shall tell you that story. For now, let my fellows rest and savour what peace they have.” His gaze softened as he observed the people milling around. “They have had little time for it in the past, so we would appreciate some time to enjoy the solitude.”

Connor sighed. “I respect that. But I will have the story, so don’t think I won’t ask again.”

“This is a remarkable event. I hadn’t thought to see it in my lifetime. A Valour in our midst. Extraordinary.” The soft voice behind him made Connor turn.

He saw three figures at the front of the gathering, watching him with a strange, almost hungry composure, as if they’d been waiting for a door to open for a long time.

The speaker was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with hair so pale it looked like moonlight spilled down her back. Her eyes were a clear, hard blue, the kind that didn’t seem to soften for anyone.

Beside her stood a man in his late forties, broad-shouldered, with long black hair tied back at his nape. His gaze was dark and steady, the gaze of someone who’d seen what the world could do and had survived by refusing to flinch.

The third was a child, no more than ten, small and still, with her auburn hair braided tight. Her skin was pale as ash. Her eyes were strange in a way that made Connor’s instincts snarl: blank white irises, unfocused, seeing nothing in the room and everything beyond it.

Blind.

And yet she looked straight through Connor as if she could see the shape of his soul.

She waved a hand. “Two Valours, in fact, and not human. This is indeed auspicious, Which one of you is the leader of your people, and the sovereign of this land we stand in?”

Xiathen made a sound, half gasp, half prayer, and dropped his head in a deep, formal incline. Around them, the three newcomers and the townsfolk followed as one body. A ripple of bows, hands pressed to hearts, and whispered invocations swept through the room.

Connor’s throat tightened and his skin prickled.

“I don’t know what you mean by valour,” he said, forcing the words out like iron. “But this is my land and I’m responsible for the people who live on it.” He nodded. “We’re shifters who’ve lived on this land for hundreds of years. We don’t make it a habit to tell outsiders.”

The woman smiled. “We are the Triarc, not outsiders, not strangers,” she murmured. “We will not reveal your secret, so do not fret. And neither will anyone here.” Her gaze travelled around the room, and everyone nodded as if in a trance.

A hush fell so deep Connor could hear the fire shift in the grate. The pale-haired woman took a slow step forward, and the air seemed to tighten around her. She didn’t raise her voice, yet the room leaned in as if pulled by a hook.

“Valour is not a title you claim,” she said softly. “It is a mantle that finds its bearer. And when it does, the Triarc must witness it.”

Her eyes moved between Connor and Adrian, weighing them with the same unsettling composure she’d used on the entire room. “We ask permission to assess you both for what we believe you are.”

Connor felt Fraser’s presence at his shoulder, solid as stone, and beyond that, the hush of unnaturally still Utharian bodies. Even the fire seemed to burn quieter, as if it had learned manners.

His wolf bristled at being watched, tested, and named by strangers with pretty mouths.

Adrian’s brows rose, a flicker of his wolf in his expression, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re looking for, but you speak as if you already know the answer,” he said, forcing a light tone. “If this is an assessment, what happens if we fail?”

The child’s white eyes turned, unfocused and unerring, until they faced Adrian. “It’s the names that matter,” she whispered. “And the creation of the Bond.”

The woman’s gaze returned to Adrian, then back to Connor, pinning them both. “The Veils shift. The Council listens. When power moves, it leaves a wake.” Her smile was thin, reverent. “Before we speak further, we must be certain of what stands before us, so we do not offer vows to the wrong deity.”

Adrian shrugged. “If it gives you comfort, mademoiselle, I am happy to be judged.” He turned to look at Connor. “How about you, mon ami?”

Connor frowned. “It sounds like a load of bullshit to me.” He had no idea what the whole Bond thing was about, but he didn’t like it.

Fraser chuckled. “Are you scared, lad? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Connor glared at him. “I’m not fucking scared, you idiot. I’m wondering what this all has to do with a bloody village arriving unsolicited on my land.”

Xiathen moved forward. “I assure you no harm will come to either of you,” he remarked softly. “But it means a lot to the Triarc. And to our people, if you would let them see your worth.”

“Fine,” Connor said in exasperation. “Anything to keep the peace.”

The woman acknowledged his reluctant compliance with a nod.