Chapter 21: Alpha Meets Alpha

Ryker's POV

I was in the throne room at noon when they arrived.

Twelve men through the main entrance, which was already a statement. Delegations brought six, maybe eight. Twelve meant he wanted to fill space. Wanted to look large. I noted it and said nothing and stood at the base of the throne steps with my hands behind my back and my face arranged into the specific expression I reserved for meetings like this one. Pleasant. Attentive. Giving absolutely nothing away.

Cax stood to my left. Zephyr to my right, which I had debated, because Zephyr had been unpredictable lately. But leaving him out would signal internal fracture, and I was not signaling anything today except unity and complete control.

Ryder walked in ahead of his men.

I had built a picture of him from Daren's reports and from the single crossed-out name on that Shadow-Vale bond registry. The picture had been accurate. Tall, broad, moving with the particular arrogance of someone who had never once walked into a room and wondered if he belonged there. Good looking in the aggressive, symmetrical way that some Alphas were, like everything about him had been arranged to communicate power before he opened his mouth.

He opened his mouth.

"Alpha Ryker." He crossed the room with his hand extended, smiling like we were old friends reuniting. "I've heard a great deal about you."

I shook his hand. Firm, brief, releasing first. "Alpha Ryder. Welcome to the Iron-Claw Kingdom." I kept my voice warm and my eyes empty. "I trust the journey was comfortable."

"Long. But worth it." He looked around the throne room slowly, taking his time, the way people did when they wanted you to know they were assessing you. "Impressive hall. Old construction?"

"Very old." I smiled. "Built to last."

His eyes came back to mine. He smiled back. We understood each other perfectly and had decided, mutually and without discussion, to pretend that we didn't.

The three Elder Council representatives introduced themselves after him. Old names, old families, the kind of men who had been in rooms like this one for decades and knew every version of the game being played. I greeted each of them correctly, used the right titles, asked the right questions about their travel.

The whole thing took twenty minutes and was entirely a performance from every person in the room.

"We'll get to business tomorrow," Ryder said, when the formalities finished. "Tonight I'd simply enjoy the hospitality I've heard so much about."

"Of course." I gestured toward the doors. "The feast is ready when you are."

The great dining hall seated forty. Tonight it held Ryder's delegation, the three council members, my brothers, four of my senior advisors, and enough food to communicate abundance without extravagance. I had been specific about the balance. Too much looked desperate. Too little looked hostile. The middle ground said confident and unbothered, which was exactly what I needed tonight to say.

Ryder sat across the table from me, two seats down, which put him close enough for conversation and far enough that I didn't have to look at him constantly. His men spread along the table. The council members took the honored positions near the head.

Cax handled the council members with his usual smooth precision, asking the right questions, laughing at the right moments, making each of them feel like the most important person at the table. He was extraordinarily good at this. Better than me. I was good at intimidation. Cax was good at charm. Tonight we needed charm.

Zephyr was quiet. Controlled, but quiet. I kept half my attention on him throughout the first course and the second, watching for the signs I had learned to recognize. The slight stillness that meant the wrong soul was pushing forward. The way his hands would go flat on the table when he was fighting something internally.

He seemed alright. Alright enough.

The third course arrived. Conversation around the table had loosened the way it always did when wine had been circulating for an hour and food was good and the formality of arrival had worn off. Ryder had been talking to the man beside him, laughing at something, performing the relaxed version of himself that I suspected very few people ever saw through.

I watched him and ate my food and waited.

He turned to me between courses. Easy. Natural. Like it had just occurred to him.

"Ryker." He picked up his wine glass. "I have to ask. You know how it is with delegations. You hear things on the road, rumors, bits of information that may or may not mean anything."

"I know how it is," I said pleasantly.

"Someone mentioned." He paused, swirling his glass. "That you've taken on some unusual new staff recently."

"We're always hiring. The palace runs on good staff."

"Of course." He smiled. "This one specifically. A new maid, I think." He tilted his head. "Violet-blooded. Someone in the city apparently noticed something. Strange coincidence, isn't it." He leaned forward slightly across the table. "I lost one of those recently."

The wine glass was in my hand.

Then it wasn't whole anymore.

The crack happened fast, the stem giving under my grip, and I felt the sharp edge against my palm and the wet spread of wine across the tablecloth before I could stop any of it. A servant appeared instantly with a cloth. I set the broken glass down with complete calm, took the cloth, pressed it against my hand.

"Forgive me," I said. "Faulty glass."

Ryder looked at the broken stem on the table. Then at my face.

He was still smiling.