The Council of Wolves

Chapter 6: The Council of Wolves

​The High Chamber of the Northern Citadel smelled of beeswax, wet slate, and ancient, unyielding stone.

​I stood three paces behind Joss Wayer’s obsidian throne, shrouded in a high-collared mantle of midnight velvet. Underneath the heavy fabric, a silver-embroidered tunic hugged my chest and waist cut specifically to conceal the subtle, soft shift in my lower abdomen that only I and Master Edwin could truly detect.

​My body felt heavy, anchored by the dense, blood-fortifying tonic Joss had forced down my throat two hours prior. The sickness had receded into a low, dull thrum at the base of my spine, replaced by an uncomfortable surge of heightened senses. I could hear the faint scuffle of leather boots against marble; I could smell the sharp, metallic tang of iron grease on the guards' broadswords; and most of all, I could feel the suffocating, protective pressure of Joss’s aura wrapping around me like an invisible suit of armor.

​Before the long, horseshoe-shaped council table sat seven high lords of the Northern Syndicate. Seven old wolves who had spent their lives watching the borders, executing traitors, and guarding the royal line.

​Seven pairs of eyes were fixed directly on me, burning with undisguised hatred.

​"This is madness, Lord Wayer," barked Duke Vane of the Eastern Marches, his gnarled hand slamming down on the polished oak table. "You bring a Southern assassin,the very snake sent to slit your throat in the dark into the sacred hall of the High Council? Unchained? Clothed in royal velvet?"

​"Mind your tone, Lord Vine," Joss said smoothly. He didn't raise his voice, yet the sheer weight of his tone made the heavy iron chandeliers above us hum softly in response. He leaned back in his throne, resting his chin on one hand, his golden eyes sweeping lazily over the gathered lords. "Gawin Caskey is no longer an active operative of the Southern Guilds."

​"Then what is he?" demanded Lady Seryna, commander of the Vanguard, her sharp grey eyes cutting into me like daggers. "A prisoner? A trophy? Or a spy who has somehow woven his way into your personal bedchambers while our scouts bleed along the Southern ridge?"

​I felt my jaw tighten. My fingers twitched, instinctively feeling for the silver throwing pins that had been stripped from my sleeves days ago. I took a half-step forward, ready to spit a bitter insult back into her arrogant face, but Joss’s hand moved.

​Without turning around, Joss extended his broad right arm, resting his heavy, warm palm flat against my hip.

​The gesture was possessive, casual, and utterly shocking to the entire room. The council chamber fell so silent you could hear the crackle of the torches along the far wall. The lords stared in stunned horror as Joss’s fingers gripped my hip gently, pulling me an inch closer to the side of his throne.

​"He is the Director of Counter-Espionage," Joss announced, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly absolute baritone that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "And he is the bearer of the next royal heir of the Northern Syndicate."

​A collective gasp rippled through the hall.

​Duke Vine turned pale, his mouth working silently before he managed to find his voice. "A... an heir? From a Southern assassin? Lord Vance, the Aethel-Core line has been extinct for three centuries! You cannot mean"

​"I mean precisely what I said," Joss interrupted coldly. He shifted his grip on my hip, his thumb pressing through the velvet to stroke the bone with a dark, steady rhythm that sent a wave of heat straight into my lower belly. "Gawin carries my blood. The core has awakened. Master Edwin has confirmed it, and my own magic seals the bond every morning."

​My breath hitched in my throat. Being claimed so openly before his highest commanders made my blood boil with indignation, yet the sudden, surging warmth radiating from his palm kept my trembling body upright and steady.

​Lady Seryna stood up, her chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. "Even if the child is yours, My Lord, handing our intelligence networks to an assassin is an intolerable risk! How do we know he isn't feeding our troop movements straight back to his former guildmasters?"

​"You don't," I spoke up, my voice cutting through the hall like a drawn blade.

​The lords snapped their gazes back to me.

​I stepped out from behind the shadow of the throne, brushing past Joss’s hand, though the lingering warmth of his touch stayed embedded in my skin. I took three steady steps toward the council table, folding my arms over my chest, tilting my head with a cold, mocking smirk.

​"You don't know if I'm betraying you, Commander Seryna," I said softly, letting my gaze drift over each of their grim faces. "Just as you didn't know that three of your supply captains in the Western Reach have been taking gold from the Southern Shadow Guild for six months. Or that your secure cipher for the mountain patrols was broken four weeks ago."

​Lady Seryna froze, her eyes narrowing in shock. "That is impossible. Our ciphers are rotated every fortnight"

​"They are rotated using the third key of the Old Code," I interrupted smoothly, pulling a small folded parchment from my inner sleeve and tossing it into the center of the council table. "A key I personally cracked three years ago when I was sixteen. If I wanted to sell your troop movements back to my guild, Commander, I wouldn't need Joss’s intelligence network to do it. I could do it in my sleep from the dungeon floor."

​Duke Vine snatched the parchment, unrolling it with trembling hands. As his eyes scanned the decoded figures and names I had spent the previous evening organizing, his face drained of what little color it had left.

​"This... these are real names," Vine whispered, looking up at Joss in horror. "The Western border is completely exposed."

​Joss didn't look surprised. He remained relaxed on his throne, a faint, dark curve touching his lips as he watched me command the room.

​"Master Caskey has already redrawn the security parameters for the Western Reach," Joss said, standing up from his seat. The ambient temperature in the room plummeted as his massive presence dominated the hall. "He has identified two shadow safehouses within ten miles of our gates and provided the location of the Southern Guild’s primary dead-drop."

​Joss walked down the raised dais, stopping directly beside me. He didn't hesitate, he reached out and slid his arm around my waist, pulling my lower back flush against his side. I stiffened, my fingers digging into his forearm to push him off, but his grip was like forged iron.

​"From this day forward," Joss declared, his golden eyes sweeping over the pale faces of his council, "Gawin Caskey’s word on internal security is my word. Anyone who questions his loyalty questions mine. Anyone who plots against him or the child he carries will answer to my blade personally."

​Silence descended upon the High Chamber, heavy and absolute.

​One by one, the seven lords bowed their heads. Even Lady Seryna, her jaw clenched tight enough to break, slowly lowered her head in submission to the absolute power of the Northern crown.

​"Dismissed," Joss commanded flatly.

​The lords gathered their papers and filed out of the chamber with hasty, uneasy steps, leaving the two of us alone under the vaulted stone arches.

​The moment the heavy doors slammed shut, I turned in his grip, driving my elbow hard into Joss’s ribs.

​He absorbed the strike without flinching, though his grip on my waist tightened, pulling me so close our chests brushed with every heavy breath I took.

​"You used me," I rasped, my dark eyes flashing with anger. "You brought me out here like a prized hunting hound to show off to your lapdogs!"

​"I established your authority," Joss corrected smoothly, his thumb sliding up to tilt my jaw up toward his face. "Those lords would have tried to poison your food or cut your throat in your sleep within a week if I hadn't made it clear that your death means their execution."

​"I don't need your protection!" I snarled, trying to jerk my face away from his hand, though my body was already betraying me,my lower stomach relaxing as his magic seeped through his tunic into mine. "I've survived ten years in the darkest assassin guilds in the world!"

​"You weren't carrying my heir then, Gawin," Joss whispered, his voice dropping into a deep, possessive growl that sent an involuntary shiver straight down my spine. His golden eyes searched my face, softening just a fraction as he noticed the faint pale tint returning to my lips. "You're exhausted."

​"I am fine," I lied, though my knees felt strangely hollow.

​Before I could protest further, Joss swept his arm beneath my knees and lifted me off my feet, scooping me into his chest.

​"Joss! Put me down!" I gasped, clutching his broad shoulders out of pure instinct to keep from falling. "The guards outside"

​"The guards outside will mind their own business if they wish to keep their heads," Joss said flatly, turning on his heel and carrying me back toward the private sanctuary of his chambers. "You've worked for four hours. You've intimidated my High Council. Now you are going to lay down, drink your midday tonic, and rest."

​"You are infuriating," I muttered, burying my face against the warm crook of his neck to hide the heat flushing up my cheeks.

​"And you are mine," Joss replied softly, his hand pressing firm and warm against my stomach through the heavy velvet. "Get used to it, Spymaster."